Take the kernel, leave the husk

We are looking at the role of innovation in thriving churches. It’s one of the words that makes me roll my eyes….kinda like the word ‘pivot’.  New…again??

And yes too much new, too much new at once, can be traumatizing. Trauma specialist Diana Strickland explained that’s what’s happened to (literally?) everyone during Covid shutdowns. Too much new all at once.

But for the church, we knew this time would come. Not just in the 21^st century but at the very beginning. Jesus said “you can’t put new wine into old wineskins or the wineskin will burst and both the skin and the wine will be lost.”  If we are not innovative, we risk becoming stale and sour, which is not good for the church that is nor for the church which is yet to be.

Charles Darwin made a similar observation.  In all manner of birds, fish and animals, when the environment or the context of where they lived changed, those that could adapt to new situations flourished. Those which did not adapt floundered, and eventually died out. (Which is also a warning about too much change too quickly.)

Innovation – doing things in a new way.  Taking the gift of our faith – if we know what that is – and offering it a way that will make sense to where we live now.  Not in a window-dressing way, like “let’s use a guitar and they will flock here”, or “bring in a praise band to liven it up” (although both of those are not bad ideas…)  Instead innovation is to be cultural interpreters of what is life-giving, what is saving, about the Way of Life that Jesus shows us.

Loraine MacKenzie Shepherd uses the story of Paul’s speech on Mars Hill to explain.

”In a brilliant approach to Athenians, Paul began a speech by commending them in their religious dedication. They were so meticulous in their devotion that they even built a statue to an unknown god in case they had missed something! Paul connected this unknown God ot eh God he knew through Jesus the Christ. Paul had been looking for signs of God’s presence within the Athenian culture and honoured what he found.  He didn’t’ bring God to them but acknowledged how God was already present in their midst.  He simply introduced them to another way to access God through Jesus.

          Paul didn’t condemn them but built their culture and foundation of faith.  He spent time learning about their philosophies and culture so that he could connect with them in a creative way….

Thriving rural and urban churches excel at out-of-the-box, innovative visioning. They look carefully at the needs of their congregations and communities, while connecting with their cultural contexts.  The leadership of thriving churches is aware of concerns and needs that capture their communities’ attention, and they pray for creative ways to meet these needs….

When unexpected challenges arise, it is this creative ability to discern, be flexible and adapt that carries thriving churches through the crisis.  Instead of shutting down, they welcome the challenge as an opportunity to explore new forms of ministry. Some of these emerging ministries continue after the crisis has passed and become new strengths of the congregations. Instead of being paralyzed by difficult situations, thriving churches are able to quickly discern how their ministry needs to adapt to the situations….” (from Thriving Churches: urban and rural success stories, UCRD 2021, p. 45f., used with permission).

Adaptation and innovation are not new concepts to the church.  Nor to the People of Israel. 

When the People of Israel were taken captive to Babylon, far from their land and all that they knew, they couldn’t uphold their traditions the way they wanted to, or the way they used to do them. Their roots were ripped out of the land. They were heart-broken. The Psalmist captures this when writing “By the waters of Babylon, we lay down and wept, and wept…How can we sing the Lord’s song in strange land?”  They were handed a choice: not being able to what they new they could forget who they were and assimilate into the new situation (and die out as a people) or learn to tell the old stories in new songs, be resilient and live.

They trusted that God was still with them, so they chose to live — even though they had to do things differently. (Like Red Green used to say “I’m a man. I can change, if I have to, I guess.”) Loraine’s comments were that in his speech Paul takes what is life-giving about this new life in Christ and makes it make sense to the people of Athens.  Peter is confronted by his worst nightmare – having to eat food he has known all his life as inedible and prohibited, so that he could meet with and mingle with Gentiles, people he had always shunned.  New situation for him, so the Spirit nudged him to be innovative. . 

For the Israelites, for Paul, and Peter, living out the good news of their faith, what is life-giving about it, is stronger than their fear of change.  For Peter and Paul, being loving towards those who were seeking a new way was stronger than their love of tradition.  Not that tradition is bad – not at all; but if it no longer serves the greater purpose and mission, of helping people to become more compassionate and loving to one another, it is an obstacle to following that new way of life in Christ,  then we have to be prepared let it go.   (True story: Mrs. McCracken always sat in the back pew. The new minister was trying to group people up so they’d sing more boldly.  Mrs. McCracken refused to move.  So pastorally the minister asked why won’t you move?  She replied that she sat where she had always sat, in honour of her family who sat there and her neighbours who sat in the pews around her.  The pastor said “But Mrs. McCracken they’ve all died. So which will honour them more – for you to stay put where you are, or to move forward and help build a strong congregation through song that will sustain us?”  She moved. Reluctantly. But stayed in her new seat…and became a greeter for new people inviting them to come sit with her.)

What about your faith is life-giving for you?  What is the kernel of your faith that you would want to bring forward as we move into a new era?  What husks need to be shucked off?

If we trust that love holds us, we can discern what new things we could try to make faith make sense in our new context.  We don’t need to change everything all at once. But let us not hold on to our old ways which no longer serve to share the good news we find in Christ.  If Peter can eat pork, surely we can try some ways to share our faith. If we know what that faith is. Innovation is about taking what is good and offering it in a new way….not knowing exactly where the road will take us but trusting that faith that God’s love is leading us..

Song for reflecting: Sing a new song unto the Lord (by Dan Schutte -ironically not so new anymore…)

(Note the featured image of kernels and husks is from phys.org)

Give me goods!

Have you ever read something and found yourself going “Oh. My. I need to know more!”

I have been known (ok, so it’s most of the time), when something catches me and I need to know more, to interrupt whatever movie I’m watching (or a TV show, reading a book, listening to music) and hope onto my favourite search engine. Sometimes I get lost in the links and research and forget about the instigator. True story: I was driving home on Saturday, listening to Great Big Sea’s XX collection, singing along with ‘Donkey Riding’, a folk song I’d learned in Gr 1 or Gr 2, and pulled over, enough, to google “what’s a ‘donkey’ in sea terms”? I am proud to say that, after getting some initial information enough to enjoy the song, I resisted the urge to keep following links so I could actually get home. (Do your own research on the song and meaning.)

I’ve been known, in the last week alone, to interrupt what I’ve been at to research (ok ‘google’) “Edgar Allan Poe” (for an old Michael Connelly mystery), early Quaker families in America, the Tla’amin first nation & their son Cameron Fraser-Monroe, Carmina Burana and Carl Off, Perhaps it is my own curiosity, or fear of not knowing something, but it borders on obsession. I want “the goods”.

Our story today, which I am persuaded tells a deep truth rather than a factual history, is about an Ethiopian court official who “wants the goods”. He’s reading a Jewish text, so something from outside of his own culture. The passage is about a man cut off from his nation, who has no family, who endures scorn and humiliation yet feels no shame, for he knows that by his action he will bring healing and peace to his nation. The Ethiopian — who, not coincidentally, is a eunuch — wonders if this passage he’s reading in the Jewish text could be true? He is scorned for his lack of sexual prowess, is relegated to the Women’s section of the Temple when he offers prayers for he is not seen as a ‘man’, and has no progeny of his own; is it possible that someone as despised as he could in fact bring healing and peace?

The apostle Philip, who it is likely is likewise scorned for being half-Jewish/half-Gentile, hears the man wondering out loud, and Philip asks ‘Do you know what you are reading?”. The Ethiopian pats the seat next to him and says “How can I if no one explains it to me?” So Philip jumps into the chariot and they begin to talk.

The truth of this story is that there are people, some we might not even imagine, who want to healing and to be part of a compassionate community, who understand there is more to life than what we can see and taste and touch and hear. They run into more progressive theologians, like the active contemplative Richard Rohr, the creation-based Matthew Fox, the atheist gretta vosper, the modern scholars Borg & Crossan, and others who talk about God in new ways and wonder is what they are reading real? Could it be that there is a ‘heart of Christianity’* that is not filled with hatred, or superstition, or is based on an existential fear of death? I think there are many people who are desperately wanting to ask someone “Give me the goods on this emerging Christianity!”

And what is our response? Are we like Philip, sharing what we know, and what gives us hope and brings healing to the ragged parts of our lives? Or do we hide behind the curtains?

Thriving churches, says Loraine MacKenzie Shepherd in her book of the same name,** are like Philip. They are mission-focussed — not in the way of going out and catching people to convert — but who find ways to take their faith and their hope-filled community outside of their walls.

This isn’t news. No one gets fed if we hoard what we have at the banquet, or if they’re scared off by those who insist that “to be Christian” one has adopt a pre-modern mindset, or be filled with with hatred and bigotry and who expect 21st century people to adopt a pre-modern mindset. They’ve been convinced that’s what “Christian” is. Eeew.

In spite of folks who sell that kind of christianity, there is still nourishing food to be had. But it isn’t just about us having it; it’s about us being it. What?? We are the church; how we live it is what it becomes.

Shepherd quotes Robert Schnase who “believes that spiritual practices need to be extended into the neighbourhood and workplaces because most people will never come into the church.” (p.36) Being mission-focused, or outward looking, Is Not about getting “bums in pews”, or thinking people will come to Sunday Morning Church Services. And it Is Not about convincing people “we” are “right” and bad things will happen if they don’t agree with our vision.

Mission, according to Shepherd (and many others), is about being with people where they are and taking spiritual hope in our back pack. A decolonized version of mission also ditches the one-way street system, of “us giving to them”. Rather, being mission-focused is very much about mutuality, receiving as much (if not more) from those with whom we seek. She writes “We learn from Jesus’ ministry that receiving… from others is part of our outward-focused ministry…..Jesus was open to critique from a women from a different ethnic group and religion….[In a missional approach] we risk developing relationships with those who are different from us, and we we are changed. This is the transformative nature of Christ-like ministry….We become the hands and feet of Christ as we recognize the face of Christ in the other….[As we] we look for God in others, and they will see God in [us]” (p.37).

How we do that is different in each context. For some it’s through serving at Thrift Store, or working with a food bank or Christmas Cheer, or hanging out at the rink or local coffee shop. A chaplain colleague encourages clergy and spiritual care volunteers to wander around the hospital, saying “You can’t care if you’re not there.”

Being there is half the work. The other half is shared being willing to listen when people are wondering what healing of the soul is possible and how to do it, the nurturing of our own spiritual health, and being able to give them the goods we have that they’re looking for? Faith-sharing is exactly that, it’s about sharing what is life-giving and healing, because that’s what many people are yearning for, what their souls are starved for.

So why are we hoarding the food? How can we, in our context, be about giving the goods?

Some Notes: Attending to our own spiritual health is vital to a truly mutual missional attitude. We need to know the ground we are on in order to share what brings us healing and makes us whole…. and we need to be open to how the Spirit is speaking to us through the other. When we are “too sure” we lose the capacity to walk by faith; when we are too sure we don’t actually need God. What makes us whole? How do we nurture connection between ourselves and others and the Earth? How do we make space for Holy Energy, or Holy Spirit, to be at work between us, transforming us into out best possible self? How do we make Sacred Space within us so we can have a heightened awareness when such a experience happens outside of those places we expect it.

*The Heart of Christianity by Marcus Borg offers a comprehensive and accessible explanation of a new orthodoxy, one that requires no superstition or “checking one’s mind at the door”. He “wants to show… today’s thinking Christians, how to discover a life of faith by reconceptualizing familiar beliefs.” I like to say he’s putting flesh on the bones of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s vision of a ‘religionless Christianity’.

*Thriving Churches: urban and rural success stories by Loraine MacKenzie Shepherd is published by UCRD, 2021. The e-book is available through Amazon, and Indigo; print and e-book versions are available through UCRDstore.ca. Excerpts are used with her permission.

Take risks….and talk about why

 We are looking at hallmarks and spiritual attributes of churches which are “thriving”.  In the book Thriving Churches  by Rev. Dr. Loraine MacKenzie Shepherd’s book, with additional research and reporting by Tammy Allen, they describe thriving as growing numerically (which for us might be having people involved who have been involved in the past), whose presence matters to the community, and whose faith is growing deeper.  They note that these thriving churches share certain spiritual attributes and conclude that thriving is as much about how we are as a church, as much as what we do. (Book available digitally from Amazon and Indigo and in print or digital forms at UCRD ) 

Last week we spoke about how to be intentional in our welcoming – radically welcoming even. This week the spiritual attribute we explore is of risk-tasking in, and for, their faith.  In other words they have discerned their path forward based on their faith in Christ’s Way, and they live that out with public witness.

What images come to mind when you think of “risk-taking”.

Personally, I find the idea of taking risks nauseating. I like being in control too much. Yet, I also feel an exhilarating rush of energy. Not to take reckless risks, but to challenge the status quo.

 Risk-taking is a hallmark of the Church, and has always been so.  In that time, and to a large extent today, there was a very strict social hierarchy which valued some people over others.  So, for example, Romans over everybody, landowners over merchants, merchants over slaves, men over women, wealthy over poor, people with lighter skin darker skin. Clearly some things haven’t changed.). 

The Church was taking huge risks when, within that social hierarchy, it said (and lived):  there is no difference in value between women and men, between masters and slaves, between rich and poor.  (Remember how we noticed last week they held all things in common?)   Within its own fledging movement, which was rooted in Jewish faith, the Church debated whether Jewish followers were better than Gentile followers; eventually they decreed that within the Church there is no difference between Jew and Gentile.  

I learned from Diana Butler-Bass, that the Roman Empire ran on a system of being indebted¹; if you wanted a lucrative job (like being a tax collector) the local governor who be “owed” some of your take and favours. (“I owe you one.”)  If you were an agricultural worker, a sharecropper, and wanted a better position, more power, or a larger field you would “owe” your landowner more money which you would raise from the other sharecroppers.  A primary piece of how the economy worked, and not coincidentally that the wealthy got wealthier, was through this system of owing and indebtedness.

So it was a risk for the Church to pray a very strange prayer together. In the Prayer of Jesus, the original languages says  “Forgive us our debts as we forgive those who are indebted to us”.  (The words we usually says as “trespasses”, or “sin”, actually means debt.)  So what would become of the world if we forgave debts?

The early church took risks to stand against the social hierarchy, and “the way of the world” of its day.  They confronted “the way it’s done” and offered an alternative way, a way that would bring justice and equity and mercy and compassion.  They took a huge risk, and were bearing witness to this new order publically. Everybody knew how the Christians behaved… and thought they were crazy!   Scholars of the era tell us many lost friends, family, businesses; but what they believed in was worth whatever they lost.²

Our story today is set in a particular situation in which Peter and John are taking a huge public risk. During the Second Temple period (when Jesus was alive) people who “were not whole” (people who were amputees, paralyzed, physically disabled, or with skin diseases) were not permitted to enter the Temple. That meant they were prohibited from offering prayers and sacrifices of thanksgiving, or of penitence. They were deemed to be “outside” the community. So people would pass by them. Some might throw a coin, others would pass without even seeing them. That’s just “the way it was”. So when Peter and John had the audacity to stop and speak with the beggar at the gate of the Temple — like he was real person, worthy of their time and attention, they are busting through that social taboo, disintegrating the social hierarchy. Scandalous! (and perhaps that is how he was made whole – by being seen?)

What are some of the social hierarchies or “ways of the world” in our time? Who (and how) does our society value some people over others. making the world inequitable and unjust?

(If it we can’t think of any then we aren’t looking.³)  

What might we be risking if we were to stand in solidarity with them?

And there is a risk: either we risk being looked down upon, or we risk not living with faithful integrity.

Jesus took risks all the time. He turned tables in the Temple in protest of how people were excluded from the community life of the religious community.  As a United Church, we have taken huge risks by confronting “the way it is” and saying “that’s not the way we think Jesus would have it”.  It has cost us…and it has healed us…and it has brought others to us…

What tables of our religious community might the Spirit be leading us to dismantle, or turn over?

I found it interesting that both Loraine and Tammy write that it is not a coincidence that all of the churches are explicitly welcoming of 2SLGBT people. (I add, too, that there are other groups of people who are ‘left out’; this one is only one.) These thriving churches have discerned that this is one of the “tables” of Christianity that need to be overturned, especially when others vilify 2SLGBT people in the name of Christianity.  These churches knew that they had to risk being ostracized or shunned by other churches, because their faith is that in the grace of Christ everybody is of value. (For those who aren’t familiar with that acronym, it stands for 2-Spirited, lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people.)

How we each stand in solidarity is different; but they all involve taking risks of standing against the current. Some of the churches went through the full process of studying, writing Mission or Vision Statements, adapting current policies and creating an Equity Committee to help them stay true to those statements of radical welcoming and received their designation as an Affirming Ministry.  Others have discussed and written equal marriage policies – which in the ‘bible belt’ of Alberta was enough of a risk for now. Some put Pride gear outside where it could be seen, and others use sidewalk chalk to paint rainbow flags only on Pride Sunday. (Knox United in Terrace BC made a bold statement.)

Other churches stand in solidarity with Jewish and/or Muslim kin publically displaying support on signs, sharing space, or escorting children to school. Others stand with refugees by offering supportive settlement committees. Others stand with kids with learning challenges and offer after school support and positive social interaction. Others stand ecumenically bearing witness, through the WCC’s Thursdays In Black campaign, for the hope of a world free of gender-based violence.  And, even now in 2024, some churches who stand in solidarity with these groups (esp. it seems with gender- and sexual- minorities) – even in cities like Brandon, Calgary and Winnipeg — receive hate mail and threats for living their Christian faith by being publically supportive. These churches take risks, they bear public witness… and walk forward faith-fully.

Jesus told us we are like a lamp, which can shed no light in the world unless it is put up on a lampstand. We are like a city on a hill, a beacon of hope and refuge to the weary. If we aren’t shining our light of faith, are we being faithful?

So our story, of Peter and John stopping and talking with the beggar, is about taking a risk of public shaming and possibly imprisonment, and then being bold enough to talk about it. They bear public witness to the faith that in the reign of God, in the kin-dom of heaven, every body matters.  How will we do likewise?

A Song to reflect with: Christ has no body now but yours by Steve C. Warner, adapted from Ste. Theresa of Avila, or We are a rainbow by David Kai

Some notes:

Just as an aside, I hold the position (alongside other progressive and modern scholars) that Peter and John were not blaming the Jewish people for Christ’s crucifixion. They were holding the Temple leadership accountable for not listening to a prophet of God. When they say “Salvation is found in no one else”, they were not despising other religions; rather they were saying, as Jews, that the way to the Jewish vision of a world made whole, or the reign of God, was by the path of unconditional love and forgiveness.

¹ Dr. Butler Bass offered teaching based on the work of scholars of the Greco-Roman world.  Her interpretation of “forgive our debts” is also supported by the work of many contemporary biblical scholars and theologians as being in line with Jesus’ alternative economy.  

² This is pretty widely known and shared by historians, biblical scholars, anthropologists, and sociologists – from F.F. Bruce and Geza Vermeš, to J.D. Crossan and N.T. Wright to Mary Douglas and many more besides.

³ Some people choose to be offput by the word “privilege”. When one has worked hard to get what they have, I understand how they may not feel “privileged”; but the thing is there are many (in our province and country) who have not had the opportunity to work hard, for a variety of reasons.  The playing field has never been level.  However, if that word is a problem, let’s say some people are provided with more advantages and opportunities to live well, make choices, save money, or buy houses (Like: people with white skin have more advantages and opportunities in our country than people with black skin or brown skin.  Like: people who live in cities have more advantages and opportunities than people who live rurally.   Like: People who are especially wealthy -net worth over $2 million or the über-wealthy with net worth in the tens of millions of dollars — have advantages and opportunities that people with an income of under $100,000 or under $50,000 or under $24,000 have.  And still men have advantages than women don’t have. Just to name a few.  And then there’s human advantages, over every other species of animal, as well as plants, over land, water and air.)

Give and take

Here’s yet another story about Eating. The theme that runs through Jesus stories is that he is always eating with someone. Why is that? Because something changes between us when we eat together.

Think of all the occasions we throw a feast for – weddings, funerals, homecoming & reunions. We celebrate and mourn over food.

Sidebar: There’s an advertisement for Montana’s (restaurant) that shows a young straight couple. The girl has BBQ sauce smeared on her face, and as the boy is pointing it out (with a smile) she starts to smile. The caption is: “Montana’s for getting through that  first date awkwardness”.  Maybe the deepening happens because we are more vulnerable when we eat (esp if we’re sloppy eaters) at?

It certainly is a primary component of becoming community – to eat together. Seniors gather for Congregate Meals to get some social activity into them; it helps them thrive. I’ve seen church communities under serious strain begin to build bridges as they are passing the salt and sharing serving utensils.  The family that eats together stays together – whether that is family of blood, or family of choice, or family of faith.

I’m convinced that’s why Jesus gave us a meal to remember him by. Draw closer to me; draw closer to each other.

The early church – long before the gospel of Luke was written – was sharing meals together.  They shared everything –from food to money. The story in Acts 4 says the disciples and those who were joining them shared all things in common. Everyone brought what they had to offer, whether that was large pots of cooked meat or legumes brought by the wealthy couple Annanias and Sapphira, or a loaf of bread brought by the widows. There’s a line (did you notice?): “and Gods grace was so powerfully at work in them all that there were needy persons among them.” They were living in the reign of heaven, walking the path of Jesus, putting it into practice. (I know, they are like everyone else and don’t do it well or consistently, they tell us 2 chapters later…) But it’s still miraculous that they were at least trying.

So this story of talking on the road to Emmaus (which I learned means ‘nowhere’) they are sharing their innermost thoughts. Clopas and Mary Clopas open their heart in grief and the stranger rewards them with new insights.  The stranger is invited in, and the Clopases give what they have. They make room for him at their table, and intended to make room for the stranger to sleep. In the sharing of their hearts, their bread and their space, he is no longer a stranger, but an incarnation of Christ Risen. His spirit is not dead, even if his body was; the god-flame he carried was still being carried.

The story says and when they recognized him, he disappeared before them. I wonder if when they broke bread and recognized Christ’s Presence, they also realized that the person they invited in wasn’t Jesus at all but truly a stranger who was now kin. Sharing with the stranger brings Christ’s Presence. Didn’t our hearts burn within us? They said in astonishment.  Wasn’t only when we shared our hearts – we and the stranger – that we felt that fire?  That is being radically hospitable.

I think hospitality is about making space, not only in our physical space or sharing of tangible goods but also to make space within ourselves. The stranger needs to know it’s ok to take what is being offered. And the one offering hospitality needs to know it’s ok to be changed by the stranger. Radical Hospitality is not a one-way street: it’s in the sharing that makes the Presence real.

It isn’t a coincidence that radical hospitality is one of the hallmarks of churches that thrive and flourish. They share, they welcome the stranger, they make space for the stranger. It is the intentional making space for the stranger-among-us that makes us hospitable.  Sure everyone is welcome, but do they know we have a place for them? How do we welcome the stranger among us? We don’t serve meals, but is that something we could do?  Like a once a month potluck and ‘fellowship’? 

What else could being radically hospitable look like? Offering coffee and ‘something’ at church -before, during, after?  Stopping to visit and share more than the news of the day, but sharing how the news is making you feel? Maybe pondering together ‘what does Love ask me to do in response to this’? 

Affirming ministries are another way to be radically hospitable – making space for people to come in and helping them offer their perspective, insights and gifts to the community. Their lives and ‘fabulousness’ becomes another dish for the potluck! We have a stylized ‘progress flag’ that says ‘Everyone is welcome here’, a great first step. But it’s on the inside of a locked church; how would someone who understands themselves as LGBT, non-binary, or questioning know they are welcome among us before they get in the door? (Seriously, when you feel somehow different from others, when hate is spewed towards you in the name of Jesus or Christianity, and it seems to be socially tolerated, the assumption is that no church would let us Be Ourselves. )

And I think that could be said of anyone who feels they “don’t fit the mould” they have been told they should. Can any of us believe a church would say Come and Be Free to Be Yourself.  Really?  How do you know that before you go?

That’s why being intentionally welcoming is a radical act. It is why being explicit in our welcoming is an act of hospitality. It is why we need to be public about being intentional and explicitly welcoming of every person who comes through the door.

 Sidebar: There’s a dog Rescue Group video showing how abused and neglected animals change when someone sits in the cage with them. The dogs are everything from aggressive to passive.  The people simply go in the cages with them, an act of radical solidarity. Often the person does nothing at first, then once the dog knows this stranger will not hurt them, they see the person offering food or a treat.  Maybe the person says “good dog”.  Slowly the dog’s behaviour changes, allowing more interaction. The power of knowing you are seen and you belong the way you are…. is transformative. Sometimes that transition is quick – 20-60 mins. Other times it happens over days or weeks, a few minutes more with each visit.  But it happens.  It is a great example of the transformational power of loving through radical hospitality and welcome.  

In other words, the point of the video is to show how someone (or something) learning and feeling like they belong has intrinsic value. Radical hospitality can help them become their best self. 

Isn’t that what we all want – to be our best self? To have the pieces broken within us healed and to live from a full heart into a full life?   These stories, of Clopas and Mary, and of the early church, encourage and invite us to ask ourselves: how do we show people that they belong here in this community of faith for a world made whole? It doesn’t matter if that genuine welcome is to the ‘every week-ers” , the “occasional” attendees, or the never-been-here-before-ers.

 How could we use hospitality to build this beloved community?

A Song to reflect with: Blest be the tie that binds (new version)

In life, in death and in life beyond death, God is with us

We have been looking at the Statement of Faith used in services of the United Church and examining our intentions when we say we are “Called to be the Church…”

We have reflected on what it means to celebrate God’s presence, to live with respect in Creation rather than with Creation, what it means to love and serve others, seek justice and resist evil.  This past week we have reflected –through all the days from the excitement of the palm parade (or coronation parade) right through Jesus’s death and entombment – what it might mean to each of us to proclaim Jesus crucified and risen, our judge and our hope.  Today we contemplate what it might mean to proclaim that in life, in death and in life beyond death, God is with us.

Today is not a story that stands alone.  So we need to go back a step.  During what is sometimes called “Passion Week”, or “Holy Week”, we tell the stories of Jesus’ confrontation with the Jewish leaders involved in the Temple system, and how he called them out for their collusion with the Roman Empire so they could hold up the duties and rituals of the Temple instead of standing in solidarity with the people of Israel.  We have told how Jesus taught about “the kingdom of heaven” and then lived it out intentionally, being in community with and welcoming of those who often are not welcomed elsewhere. We have heard how this kingdom of heaven challenged the authority of the Roman Empire, and its system of domination.

On Friday we retold the story of how Jesus was executed by the State, by the Roman Empire, because they thought him a leader of a seditious movement.  We know this from history: the Empire crucified traitors to Rome, who claimed an authority other than Caesar.  Crucifixion isn’t just a death, it is a humiliation; it is intended to eradicate groups with an alternative to the imperial system of domination.  John Dominic Crossan puts it quite succinctly: Cut off the head and the body will die.*  Kill the leader and the movement will fade away.

By this humiliation of death by crucifixion, this person hailed as God’s anointed prince, the Messiah, the Christ, the head of this crazy movement declaring the kingdom of heaven would become like dust of the earth, and the movement gone.

I often say at funerals that what is important is that our loved one lived, not that they died. 
And that the Truth of Resurrection happens when we remember and live out the good that our loved one valued.   I know that is true as I remember my dad (who died around this time of year; perhaps you have that experience also.  As long as we remember them, they are not abandoned to the dust of the earth.  And our love of them makes alive again, even though their body is dead.

These stories of the resurrection of Jesus, at their heart, are proclamations that Jesus, as our teacher and leader, in short our Christ, is not dead and gone.  He is not abandoned to the dust of the earth as the Romans had hoped.   Rather because his followers love him he is very much alive and among us, whenever we gather in two or threes, remembering his teachings, his way of life and commit ourselves to them. Because love can’t be stopped by death nor contained in a tomb.

For me, the miracle of Easter has nothing to do with whether or not the corpse of Jesus of Nazareth started to breath again; it has everything to do with Life in Christ.  Resurrection is the affirmation that love doesn’t stop with death.  It isn’t contained by a tomb.  And that everytime we choose to live from a place of love and compassion, seeking justice, resisting the evil of devaluing another, we experience  God – the very source of love – is with us.

These women we read about – Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Salome,  love their Jesus enough to come to the tomb. They don’t know what they will do, after all there is a giant rock blocking the entrance to the cave.  But they go anyway,  to lovingly anoint a violently executed body with oil and spice, a ritual of grieving that had been denied to them on Friday.

Now they come… Did they talk about him as they were preparing their jars and cloths?  Did they share memories as they walked through the early dawn, even as they wondered how they would get in to anoint his body?  Is it that as they tell stories to heal from grief that they realize that what matters most isn’t that Jesus died, but that he lived?  Is that why at the tomb they encounter an angel who tells them  “He isn’t here, in a repository for bones; he is risen… and he will meet you back home, in Galilee”?  Is it possible that what they eventually tell the other disciples that every time we choose to live the Way Jesus lived, we experience Jesus, God-in-flesh, alive and among us, wherever we are?

If we want Jesus’ death to have any saving grace, we must not confine him to a particular time in history. We must ask ourselves, like those three women at the tomb,  what are we going to do with this experience? Are we going to tell our story?

If we have caught Jesus’ dream of a time of peace and justice, where love and compassion rules the day,  we can turn back to the Romans of the 1^st century and say “you lost. You may have cut off the head but body is still alive!”  And to those who perpetuate and benefit from any of the systems of domination at work in the 21^st century, who tell us that it is a fantasy to trust and have faith in this kingdom of heaven, that it’s all fiction, we can dare to say: Jesus was crucified, but he is also risen. By us, through love and faithfulness to his vision.

Love turns our weeping into gladness, our tears of sorrow into tears of joy. Love makes sure we are not headless.

In life, in death, in life beyond death we are not alone. God is with us. Thanks be to God.

Note: * much of this is influenced by John Dominic Crossan and the late Marcus Borg, and is shared widely in their individual and collaborative books and videos (available on Youtube).

And then came Friday…

“Passion week is about the passion of Jesus, not just his torture and death by crucifixion, but the thing that he was passionate about: the reign of God on Earth.” So begins The Last Week  by contemporary scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan.

Our stories of faith tell us that we are made in God’s image.  Like Jesus we are made to be passionate about Love being the law, about living with compassion and mercy so that those who have will share and those who have not will benefit from it.  We are made to love with all of our heart, and mind, and strength and will.   We are made to love our neighbour as ourself.

In our time and place, as we see injustice happening in our province, and yearn for the kingdom of heaven of Jesus’ vision. But do we yearn, are we desperate enough to take the concrete steps needed to mend the world, to bring healing and make peace?

That is why I begin services with acknowledging the indigenous people in whose territory we reside. It is a small act of recognizing the injustices down by colonization, and one step towards balancing power, encouraging shared access to natural resources, and stepping back from assuming I have a right to certain privileges simply because I am white, European-descended, educated and fully employed.

The rest of this blog is a read and reflect blog. Take your time. Write or draw out your reactions to the stories. Perhaps the questions may provide your thoughts a springboard; perhaps you won’t need them.

Before the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate: Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, made their plans. So they bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate.  “Are you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate. “You have said so,” Jesus replied. The chief priests accused him of many things.  So again Pilate asked him, “Aren’t you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of.”  But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed

Reflection Question: when have you refused to acknowledge an authority who was questioning your worthiness, or validity? Who benefitted from your silence?  When has your silence been prompted by the idea “you’ve got to go along to get along”?

Mocked by the soldiers: (Mark 15:16-20)  The soldiers led Jesus away into the palace (that is, the Praetorium) and called together the whole company of soldiers. ¹⁷ They put a purple robe on him, then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on him. ¹⁸ And they began to call out to him, “Hail, king of the Jews!” ¹⁹ Again and again they struck him on the head with a staff and spit on him. Falling on their knees, they paid homage to him. ²⁰ And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.

Reflection question: when have you mocked someone without giving them a full hearing? Has that ever then rebounded by showing you your own blind spots?

Jesus is Crucified: (Mark 15: 21-24)  They brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means “the place of the skull”). Then they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it. And they crucified him. Dividing up his clothes, they cast lots to see what each would get.

It was nine in the morning when they crucified him.  The written notice of the charge against him read: the king of the Jews.  They crucified two rebels with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, “So! You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, come down from the cross and save yourself!” In the same way the chief priests and the teachers of the law mocked him among themselves. “He saved others,” they said, “but he can’t save himself! ³² Let this Messiah, this king of Israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe.” Those crucified with him also heaped insults on him.

Reflection question: When have you assumed someone on trial is guilty before you’ve heard the evidence?

At noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).  When some of those standing near heard this, they said, “Listen, he’s calling Elijah.” Someone ran, filled a sponge with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to take him down,” he said. With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last.

Reflecting question: When Jesus cries out “why have you forsaken me” some those who heard him might wonder if he is despairing. How do you cry out when your heart is breaking and you are despairing?

Jesus is actually quoting the first line of Psalm 22, which begins with “a lament from the depths” and increasing concludes that despair is a trick of the Deceiver and the God of Life will have the last say. Have you ever found yourself despairing, and as you give voice to your lament discover within you a place of strength and resilience you didn’t know was there? How would you describe that experience to another person?

The curtain of the temple (which separated the Holy of Holies — God’s “residence” on Earth — from the rest of the Temple precinct) was torn in two from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how he died, he said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!

Reflecting Question: When have you drawn a curtain between yourself and the world around you as a form of self-protection? What were you protecting yourself from? When has that curtain been ripped apart, forcing you to see that which you feared? How were you affected by that forced awakening?

Jesus is entombed:  It was Preparation Day (that is, the day before the Sabbath). So as evening approached, Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. Pilate was surprised to hear that he was already dead. Summoning the centurion, he asked him if Jesus had already died. When he learned from the centurion that it was so, he gave the body to Joseph. So Joseph bought some linen cloth, took down the body, wrapped it in the linen, and placed it in a tomb cut out of rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joseph saw where he was laid.

For reflection: This scene has been the source of inspiration for some beautiful artwork – La Pieta of Michangelo being among them. How does this scene show a piety towards Jesus?

But on the other hand….

There are scholars who suggest if such a burial took place, it was not an act of kindness. Chad Myers, in his book Binding the Strong Man, suggests that Joseph of Arimathea was as anxious as the Empire to see Jesus dead and buried. To add insult to injury, Jesus the itinerent preacher is buried among “the wicked”, the uber-wealthy who could afford not only their own tomb/mauseleum but to own it before it was needed. Like surplus property. Crossan and Borg in The Last Week, make a similar argument that the burial might not carry the love we’ve often seen depicted in Great Art. They argue that Empire’s idea of crucifixion was not only to kill those who wanted to see Rome overturned, but it was also a humiliation and thus a big step towards the eradication of the movement. “Cut off the head and the body dies”, they say. To see Jesus buried, and in fact sealed away in a tomb, may have been an effort to bury the revolution once and for all.

Which of those explanations – that this was an act of devotion and kindness, or it was a way to ensure this Jesus would disappear — resonates with you? How does it lead you understand, and respond to, this “Passion” of Jesus?

In three days…we unfold the next chapter: “What do you mean ‘He isn’t there’?!?”

Thursday: a day of reckoning

 Passion week is about the passion of Jesus, not just his torture and death by crucifixion, but the thing that he was passionate about: the reign of God on Earth.  When we remember, and enact, the stories of this week, we are being asked if we will share his passion …both his vision of a time of justice and peace, where compassion and love are the primary law, and the sacrifice of letting go of what he had and give it to God, his life.

We gather tonight to remember a story that is sad, because we love our Teacher, Jesus of Nazareth. We gather to hear a story from long ago that confronts us even today because we love our Lord. We gather to remember his mandate to us: love one another even as I have loved you, and I lay my life down for you.

It is a disturbing story. It’s supposed to be disturbing. It makes us face how humans can refuse to see anothers’ humanity. It makes us face how cruel we can be – whether actively or passively by looking away. Together we need not fear what this story raises in us, for God is with us. We are not alone, in life, and in death, God is with us.

It’s a long story, so I have broken it into pieces. And I offer some reflection questions. You may want to sing between the verses a song from The Iona Community “We Will Take What You Offer”.

Part One: All year we have told stories about how Jesus shared good news with his people: the reign of God – the time of lasting justice and peace, when everyone would have what they need – this kin’dom of heaven has arrived.

This is good news for some: the poor and marginalized, those who struggle to get through the day, those who have been told they don’t count, those who fear that is true.  It is good news that the Source of all Love, a Fountain of Blessing, is with us, within us.

But this news that the reign of God has begun is not good news for everyone.  Particularly not for those who are content with how the world is, those who make policy decisions without caring how those decisions affect others, those who have enough to satisfy their needs and yet want more, those who think they and “their kind” are better and more worthy than others, those who want to keep for themselves and their families whatever it is that they have. 

On Palm Sunday we remembered Jesus coming to Jerusalem, how the throng was excited for him to reclaim the throne of David and set God’s reign into motion.  We carried such hope in our palm branches. But those hopes come with a cost. Tonight we remember Jesus Great Commandment – love one another as I have loved you. 

What inhibits you from letting Love infuse you?

We will take what you offer….

Part Two: Mark 11: 12-22, When Religion Withers   

  When most people say “I’m spiritual but not religious” they are doing what Jesus did: they are cursing the fig tree. They are saying religious rites and rituals have become withered, the fruit is dry inside.  That can be so. We can pray a certain way because we’ve always prayed that way, without the hope and the faith carried in those prayers making a difference to our lives. The seeds in the fig have no power anymore.

It isn’t the religion is bad, it’s because its power to move and change us has shrivelled up.

It is said that we do not pray because God needs our prayers, but because we do. “Prayer invites God’s Presence to suffuse our spirits, for God’s will to prevail in our lives.   Prayer may not bring water to parched fields, nor mend a broken bridge, nor rebuild a ruined city. Bur prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart, rebuild a weakened will.” (AJ Heschel cited in Mishkan T’filah p. 65)

A major advantage to participating in established rites and rituals which have been practiced by others for centuries, we discover that the hope for the world is a hope that others have carried before us.  We realize that our thoughts are not ours alone; we are but one link in the chain of faith. Knowing others have prayed for the same things as we actually enlivens the hope within us, and gives us patience to remember others have hoped this for centuries and we are not there yet.

But the words we say in our prayers and rituals are only words; do we say them or do we pray them? There is a difference.

When have you felt your spirituality has become dried up like the fig tree?

Part Three: Mark 12: 12-17 the temple and Caesar

Most of the history of human civilizations is marked by a clear pecking-order. We build villages and countries on a pyramid built on the backs and lives of those below where we are. Those at the top get most of the wealth, hold most of the land, have the power to make decisions that affect others.  Prosperity, prestige and power, the triumvirate of all systems based on domination.  

The world of the Roman Empire’s pyramid put Caesar at the very top of that system.  Caesar was called “Saviour of the World” because it was his rule, his word of law, which allowed trade and commerce to thrive (even though it was at the expense of those at the lower levels of the pyramid).  He was “Caesar the Great” and called “the son of God”.  So everything was geared to getting Caesar whatever Caesar wanted, and everyone was expected to work together to that end.

One way they did that was to pay a tribute, or tax, to Caesar.  For Jewish leaders this caused several difficulties. First, as a people under occupation they were essentially paying for the army that enforced that occupation and the oppression it brought. And secondly, paying the tax was a way of agreeing with the things said about Caesar – that his Word was law, that he was the saviour of the world and that he was the son of God. And yet, it was only because Caesar allowed it, that the Temple rituals were allowed to continue so they had to go along with some of the laws which were opposed to what the Temple was to stand for. 

So it was quite reasonable for Jewish leaders and scholars to ask: “According to the law that God gave to Moses, is it lawful to pay the tribute to Caesar, or not?”   In other words do we pay Caesar thereby acknowledging Caesar’s authority – in which case Jews who saw Caesar and his system as just another form of slavery would be angered and turn against Jesus.  Or do we not pay Caesar’s tribute – thereby denying Caesar’s authority over them as Jews and therefore angering the  Roman Empire and its supporters who benefitted from it. 

Jesus’ reply is to ask “whose image is imprinted on the coin you pay with?” When they say “Caesar’s”, he responds by saying then “give to Caesar that which has his imprint on it, and give to God that which has God’s imprint on it.”

  As a Jew, Jesus believes that all of creation has God’s fingerprints all over it, including us who are “made in the image and likeness of God”. 

So this story – both the question posed to Jesus, and the answer Jesus gives – gives us a conundrum.  Whose “coin” will we use? And what shall we support with it?

The domination system (the Way of Caesar),

or the way of Righteousness or Right-us-ness (the Way Jesus models)?

Part Four: Time for a Song Break… (based on Mark 14: 1-11) Said Judas to Mary (image from saltandlight.com)

Part 5: Mark 14: 12-26 The Last Supper

Jesus was always eating with people. Sometimes they were the outsiders of the town, or of “Who Is Proper”. Sometimes he ate with devoutly religious teachers, like Simon the Pharisee (in that previous story). Eating with people is part of how we deepen our relationship with them. And when we share what is available we enact the primary law of the kin-dom of heaven: when we share what is available, there is enough for everybody…. and more than enough. (Remember 2 small fish and 5 biscuits feeding a multitude?)

This meal isn’t small. It is a meal which is supposed to be extravagaant because it is the symbol of no longer being slaves but free. There is ample bread and wine. Several cups of wine, in fact. So imagine the reaction when Jesus picks up one 10-inch round piece of unleavened bread, passes it around and says “take this, all of you and eat it”. There’s at least 12 men, so likely another 12-20 people associated with that family – wives, parents, children and grandchildren. They would all have been there because one purpose of the Passover Meal ritual is to tell the story to the next generation, to raise them up to understand how this story is part of their story. Telling the story imbues it with its meaning: we only tell those stories that tell us who we are.

What part of this story of the last supper of Jesus’ mortal life is part of your story?

and what difference does it make to you?

We will take what you offer

Part Six: Mark 14: 66-73  Jesus is arrested… and his closest follow denies knowing him

   There are two kinds of silence in this part of the story. The first is Jesus’ silence before the Sanhedrin, the Jewish Court of Elders. The second is Peter’s silence about his faith.

The first silence, much like Eamonn deValera’s silence in English courtrooms, is Jesus’ silence which denies the court’s authority of him.

The second instance is more of “being silent”. Peter denies Jesus because he thinks it might save his skin from being arrested too. Fair enough. But there was the cost to him – a shame and despair so deep he wept when he realized he couldn’t stand up to his own values and principles. Perhaps Peter’s silence is a foreshadowing of the silence of other Christians over the centuries – when Silence = Death.

Question for reflection: when have you chosen to hide your Christian faith? What was going on that you did that? Was your silence prompted by fortitude, like Jesus’, or fear, like Peter? Who benefitted from your silence? 

For some of us, participating in Holy Communion (or Eucharist) gives us strength from the remembrance of the relative costs and rewards of following this Way of Christ.

What gives you strength in times when your faithfulness is tested?

Here’s a different take: We will take what you offer

Tomorrow we look at the next chapters of this disturbing story.  It should disturb us because it tells of horror and the inhumanity that we are capable of.  It should disturb us enough to hold fast to the hope that another world is possible.  Perhaps it can even disturb us into taking one more step along a road that is muddy and rough…that leads to our heaven.

We are called to be the Church….to proclaim Jesus – crucified and risen – our judge and our hope.

I have heard, more than once, from people don’t identify as Christian anymore that “other religions are about a lifestyle and Christianity is just a boring, unintelligible bunch of beliefs”.  My usual response is to say that we haven’t shared our religion very well then, because Christianity is a lifestyle – and a hard one . It is a Way of Life which is rooted in a philosophy of radical love, respect, and inclusion.  They look at me strangely.

I think they do that because Christianity has often been experienced as a “bunch of beliefs”, certain statements to which we are expected to give cognitive assent. Tick off the boxes and you’re good to go.

But that is not the Faith that Jesus taught.

In fact that was the kind of faith that Jesus was always confronting. Like the prophets before him Jesus would say “When you pray, and give your sacrifices, don’t think that’s what God is satisfied by. God wants your heart and your will and your strength.” (The prophet Micah is more poetic: Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
    with tens of thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
    the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?’
God has told you, O mortal, what is good;
    and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
    and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6, verses 6-8)

And those who walk this Way are inevitably going to come in conflict with the so-called “powers that be”, the ruling class, the systems of domination. (Just an fyi, what follows in not my own ideas or opinions. See notes below for more info.) That is the message of this Holy Week – from the palm parade of Sunday through to Friday when Jesus is executed by the State.

Yes, executed by the State. The crux of the Christian message is that we follow the Way of someone who was executed because he was a danger to the Empire, and who challenged the status quo. And who challenged the religious authorities who collaborated with them.

Crucifixion was the way the Roman Empire kept the fires of revolt down. It was reserved for traitors and what we might call ‘gangsters’, the ‘bandits’ of Jesus’ time. So to follow — and claim as Lord — someone crucified was scandalous! 

Crucifixion was designed to provide maximum pain and humiliation to the person (and anyone who thought similar thoughts as they). They would crucify the leaders of sedition before it could blossom into full-scale revolt. And it was highly effective in quelling opposition. In other words, cut off the head and the body will die.

But these Christians wouldn’t let Jesus, or his ideas, go away. What hope did he offer?

In how Jesus lived, in how he embodied the teachings of his heritage, Jesus walked the path — lived the lifestyle — which would bring a real and lasting peace to the world, a peace rooted in the justice we encounter in the Hebrew prophets, rather than from military crackdowns. The Pax Romana came through swords; the Pax Christi comes through love. The Way of Jesus runs against the Way of “empire”.

In other words, to truly be Christian is to choose this way, and embrace in it in how you live. A life-style. And one that clashes with the dominant culture in North America (at least).

Today’s story dramatically illustrates this impending clash. From the west comes Pontius Pilate, sitting on a well-bred stallion, in armor and followed by highly trained and armed soldiers.  From the east comes a landless itinerant teacher, sitting on a donkey, followed by a rag-tag group whose ability to live fully and flourish is dependent on the way things are being different.    And among that group are women, and people who have been healed of very hurt..

The two are heading for the same physical space: the Temple in Jerusalem, the place where, according to Jews, that God resides on earth.  It is also the residence of the head of state.  Pilate is going to settle in to the residence of the High Priest at one end of the complex, and Jesus is going to make a scene that says the only head of government of the People of God is God, whose residence is at the other end of the Temple complex, in the Holy of Holies.

They are going to clash.

It is a sacred story because it offers us an eternal Truth. This one says: there are two paths of life, two lifestyles, and you must choose between them. You can’t have both because they are rooted in opposite worldviews. And the story invites us to ponder which Way are you going to choose?

And so we proclaim Jesus crucified…and that he is our hope.

When we wave our palm branches, we are declaring that in Jesus’ Way, we find hope for a world that is better than the one we live in. We trust this Way to bring us to a time of lasting peace, of right relationship between people. A time when there is enough for everybody; there is no one who is ‘needy’ because there is no one who is greedy.

But what about the rest of that proclamation – that we declare him not dead but risen, and that he is our judge?

What is the primary function of a king? (back in those days it was clearer) To judge the people well. Prophetically inspired kings rule, and make decisions and judgements, in righteousness. Their decisions are to balance power between people, and to make it right.

In our United Church we often focus on God as loving unconditionally so much that we forget that we are also judged by this same Power. I am convinced, though, that we are not judged by the standards of Empire (where those with power, prestige and prosperity are the ones judged “good”) but by the standards of loving that Jesus has modeled, and that we set for ourselves.

How closely am I, are you, following that path which leads to the fulfillment of those hopes? Not well, in my case. But I am grateful for Grace. I am grateful that every time I realize I could have been more loving, I am forgiven my missteps, falling away from that path, and I am lifted up, dusted off and put back on that Way.

This way of Jesus will bring a world that is radically different from the way it is now. And that is good news – especially for those of us who are trampled on or “pushed to the side” by this world. Imagine a world where every person is in right relationship with every other. Imagine a world where there is no predator or prey, where everyone has enough, and no one is afraid.  What a hope that is!

Do I think it’s possible?  Absolutely.  Is it easy? Absolutely not.

This hope comes with a cost. It cost Jesus his life.  For us, the cost is letting go of whatever it is that inhibits Love filling us up, and whatever is stopping that Love from overflowing into the world around us. 

The scandal of the cross for us might not be about criminality, or even losing our life; but it is a challenge to be vulnerable and honest in a world, a culture, where that is seen as foolish. What is it you might have to let go of?

But I confess it is really hard to live that way.  We learn quickly that it is even harder – if not impossible – to live that way without being surrounded by a community that supports, encourages us, challenges us and helps correct us in love to live the lifestyle of Jesus. To love the way he loved. To love who, and what, he loved.

The Romans thought they’d cut off the head to this “foolish” movement that threatens to disrupt the status quo. They though it was dead. But to us, Christ is not dead. His ideas and way of living was not buried with him. We take on his lifestyle and he is resurrected in us and through us as we make the choices we do as we go about our day-to-day life. He is our hope…and our judge.

Our perhaps it is WE who judge between those two pathways.

Christianity is very much lifestyle whose promise is one of deep hope, but it is not well suited for those who want life to be easy.  We embrace the Cross and our reward is that we  experience that Spirit of Christ is alive and well and flourishing.

 The truth of this sacred story is it asking of which parade we will join?  Which set of values and virtues, which lifestyle, are we are willing to embrace?  They both come with a cost; which hope or goal is worth the cost you are willing to pay?

We proclaim Jesus crucified. And risen. We call him our judge, and the place of our hope. It is a very bold thing to say. But these are our ‘marching orders’, as they say.

Let us take up our palms and join the parade.

A song for reflection: Three Things I Promise by Brian Wren and Dan Damon

Called to be the Church…to seek justice and resist evil

In our Lenten series on A New Creed (1968 rev), we are looking at the final section which says we are called to be the Church, and how we are to act in order to Be The Church.

For me, this is a LOADED sentence! I seems so Don Quixote – finding something as elusive as justice, and jousting with ghosts and ideas. So is this even possible to do? Or more determinably, is it something it is possible to ignore?

First we must ask what do we mean by ‘justice’ and what do we mean by ‘evil’. Secondly we must ask are they related, and if so, how?  Finally, but by no means leastly, we must ask how will we seek, and how will we resist?

This is also a key component of our denominational identity and faith – to seek justice – so what does it mean to our spiritual well-being if we do not “seek justice and resist evil”?

Let’s begin with what do we mean by “justice”?

Often in the past few years, we’ve heard the phrase “Justice for…” and then the name of the person or group for whom someone/some group is “seeking justice”. In Manitoba we’ve heard it used in demonstrations against the use of lethal force by the police – esp in instances where such a response is ethically (and strategically) questionable.  Justice for Afolabi Stephen Opaso ,for  Eisha Hudson, for  John Barrion, for  Errol Greene for Tanya Nepinak, and the other hundred, maybe thousands, of missing and murdered indigenous women, girls and 2-Spirited people. It is the rallying cry in the Black & Indigenous Lives Matter movement(s). It is the rallying cry of a number of victim-advocate groups.

But what is it that is being called for?    When you think of ‘justice’, what images come to mind?

Is ‘justice’ different from ‘revenge’ or vengeance?

          In my experience of working as an advocate (on ‘both sides of the street’ with victims and offenders), relating to the Canadian court and penal system, I have learned that many people don’t want justice when someone is arrested; they want vengeance, some version of 39 lashes. “Lock ’em up! Throw away the key!” “They should go to jail and never come out” are heard in the public square. Understandable. When someone has hurt us, it’s okay to be hot-ripping mad about it. So I have learned two important lessons. I have learned court systems are not based on justice; they are based on punishment. And I have learned that inflicting punishment equivalent to our being mad doesn’t actually help anyone – not us to feel better, and not the offender to reduce the risk of reoffending.

For example, often someone abused by their domestic partner has wanted justice – a way to restore a balance of power in the family, a way for the abuser to get help; what they usually get is a copy of a probation order which include provisions of no-contact.  It was seldom helpful to the victim, the offender, or the situation. Imagine someone whose home has been burgled.  What they often want is for their things to be replaced, their sense of safety restored, and for the convicted person to offer a true apology.  Instead, the convicted person goes to jail for a period of time.  The person burgled person receives none of what they want or need. Those situations do not make justice.

What about in other situations?  We hear calls for Justice for Gaza, mostly from Arabic, Muslim and increasingly other voices – including Jewish and Jewish Israeli voices – condemning the group retributive violence by the Israeli military.   There are others, mostly Jewish voices but also tohers, who are calling for Justice for Israel, and supporting expansion of settlements and military presence in the (occupied) Palestinian territories in light of the rising anti-Jewish rhetoric and violence. And both sides claim their acts of violence are based in a desire for justice and peace.

The truth is there can be no peace unless there is justice. Or conversely, no justice, no peace. And the heart of the biblical prophetic tradition affirms that. Poetically, the biblical prophet Amos cries: “There are those who turn justice into bitterness, and cast righteousness to the ground.…Seek good, not evil, that you may live. Then the Lord God Almighty will be with you….[You say you worship the LORD, your God but] though you bring choice fellowship offerings, I will have no regard for them. Away with the noise of your songs!  I will not listen to the music of your harps.  But let justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like a never-failing stream!” (5:7-24 abridged).   And in the Book of Leviticus 19 (and repeated in Deuteronomy) it is very clear: ‘Do not pervert justice; do not show partiality to the poor or favoritism to the great, but judge your neighbor fairly.”

Justice – the treating of the poor equally with the wealthy, not stacking the deck in favour of the powerful against those who struggled, not giving preferential treatment because of what you will get in return – this kind of justice is a force, a mighty force that can change the land.  A cursory search for the word “justice” (especially in the Hebrew testament) will bring you to dozens of passages that say similar things.

It isn’t by accident that when we reflected on what it means “to love and serve others” I shared a quote by Professor Dr. Cornel West: Never forget that justice is what love looks like in public.  You can’t lead the people if you don’t love the people. You can’t save the people if you don’t serve the people. (And Dom Helder Camara, bishop of Brazil, is quoted as: When I give food to the poor they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food they call me a communist.”

What is also of great interest to me is that in the Hebrew testament the word for justice and the word for righteousness are often coupled or interchangeable.   One of my spiritual teachers and mentors, Rabbi Joel Wittstein of blessed memory, once preached this:

“In Hebrew the torah passage reads: ‘tzedek, tzedek tirdof” –justice, justice shall you pursue. The word for justice and the word for righteousness are synonymous.  So practicing justice / living the way of torah righteousness are the same.  And tirdof has the send of urgency.  So God is telling us: Pursue justice  like you’re late for work and running after the last train, pursue it like it’s the last call for boarding call for the plane – run like hell after it.  Seek it out, look for it like you’d look for a long-lost lover and don’t stop until you find it!”   

Tzedekah, righteousness — or right-us-ness – is what biblical justice is all about. Justice and loving are intertwined. Both promise fulfillment.

          And Jesus says the same, not surprisingly as he is rooted and nourished by the same prophetic tradition. In Matthew’s gospel (23:23)  Jesus says: “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.”

So if biblical prophetic justice is about balancing power and dignity, we have to ask where do we see the need for justice in our community? In our province? country? What relationships are skewed?

          It may be helpful to bring in the other part of the sentence: we are called to resist evil.  Is evil the opposite of justice?  Is the evil we are to resist our human propensity to protect our own (family, property, way of life) regardless of how it will affect others?

          And why do we need to do that because we are ‘the Church’? 

          In the 4^th century of the common era, a community of ascetics who lived in the desert, implied it is our human brokenness that directs us to break away from living in right relationship with others.  We are born being self-centered, and to try to get what we need when we need it. That isn’t a bad thing; it is evolutionarily dictated for our survival. But when we stay in that mindset, in that brokenness, we turn our backs on the invitation of Christ to be reconciled to one another, to different parts of ourselves, to God. Conversely, if we say we are disciples and followers of the Jesus Way, we bury that part of life.

In other words, to pursue justice, to make our relationships rightly balanced, is what it means to imitate Christ. “But if according to Christ we resist not evil, though they that are evil be not amended, yet they that are good remain good.” And it is work, because the pull to being selfish (what they call ‘evil’) is deeply ingrained in us (again, perhaps it was evolutionary survival). (They also make the comment that people who have been hurt hurt other people¹.)

          In other words, if we are seeking justice, we are also resisting the evil that tries to upset that right relationship.  Which is perhaps why part of the Prayer of Jesus says “may we not be led into temptation and deliver us from evil.”  Or as Rev. Jim Cotter’s paraphrase states it, we pray “from the grip of all that is evil free us”.

But justice is not static.  It is about balancing our relationship, living equitably. That can sometimes be like shifting sand (as in the Palestine-Israel relationship). To seek justice, thereby resist evil, is about navigating the shifts.

Then there is the question of could resisting evil require us to do something that is also wrong?  As in “two wrongs do make a right”?  This is the core of the theory of just war (which Augustine introduced in the 4^th century), and which was built on by some who resisted the evil they saw in the Nazi regime in 193’s Germany. In his essay “On Responsible Action” Professor Rev. Dr. Dietrich Bonhoeffer say sometimes we have to do something we otherwise think of as evil² (in his case it was the plot to assassinate Der Führer).

          So, clearly there can be diversity of opinion in how we resist evil. But the seeking of justice and resisting of evil is inherent to the work of living Christian faith.

          In our newest statement of faith A Song of Faith³, this work of seeking justice and resisting evil are seen as Dr. West said, as what it means to live with Christ’s love at work within us.

To use more theological language, perhaps to see justice and resist evil is our embodiment, our mirroring, of the grace we experience – the unconditional love of God we come to know through Jesus. We are called to be the Church — Christ’s body in our world — if we do not seek justice and resist evil, we are turning our back on the one we call Lord of our lives.

There is no shortage of opportunity to seek justice and resist evil.  Do we set aside pre-conceived notions and listen to those who are calling “Justice For…” rather than dismissing them? Where we see evil, or the absence of justice, perhaps we can center ourselves, join with others in community, and listen to the Spirit of God at work within us to seek where, and how, love is asking us to respond. Because to sit back and do nothing in the face of evil and injustice is not an option.  

Notes:

¹ “For without this command, the commands of the Law could not stand. For if according to the Law we begin all of us to render evil for evil, we shall all become evil, since they that do hurt abound. (This was found in a commentary on Matthew 5:39 ‘do not repay those who do evil’; but this was the only source I could find today.

² From David Bivin JerusalemPerspective.com 2699 (accessed Feb 24/24): On justice:

Referencing Psalms 37:1, 8, Proverbs 24:19 and Matt 5:39 (do not render evil for evil).

“….Likewise, the Good News Bible is apparently the only translation of the New Testament that uses “revenge,” or anything similar, to render Matthew 5:38-39: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ But now I tell you: do not take revenge on someone who does you wrong. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, let him slap your left cheek too.” It is surprising there are not other versions that translate in the same way. Following “But I tell you,” the context demands “Do not take revenge,” since the first part of verse 39 speaks of “an eye for an eye,” in other words, punishment that is a response in kind.

“In idiomatic English, Matthew 5:39a might read simply, “Don’t try to get even with evildoers.”[9]  Not “competing” with evildoers is very different from not resisting evildoers. Jesus was not teaching that one should submit to evil, but that one should not seek revenge. As Proverbs 24:29 says, “Do not say, ‘I will do to him as he has done to me. I will pay the man back for what he has done.’” Jesus’ statement has nothing to do with confronting a murderer or facing an enemy on the field of battle….. Resist Evil  Our response to evil does have to be resistance—it is morally wrong to tolerate evil. However, we also must continue to show love for the evildoer.

It should be noted that loving and praying for one’s enemies in no way precludes defending oneself when one’s life is in danger. One is morally obligated to preserve life, including one’s own. Jesus never taught that it is wrong to defend oneself against life-threatening attack. However, he consistently taught his disciples to forgive and not to seek revenge against those who had attacked them. As Proverbs 20:22 counsels, “Do not say, ‘I will repay the evil deed in kind.’ Trust in the LORD. He will take care of it.”

Later on in the same article:  “The Jewish position on this issue is summed up in the rabbinic dictum,

“If someone comes to murder you, anticipate him and kill him first.”[10]  The sages taught that if one is in danger of being murdered, he should defend himself, even if there is a measure of doubt about the intention of the attacker. Furthermore, if another person’s life is threatened, one is obligated to prevent that murder, if necessary by killing the attacker. The sages ruled that a person who is pursuing someone else with intent to murder may be killed.[11]  In light of this, it is very unlikely that Jesus, a Jew of the first century, would have espoused pacifism.

When we examine Jesus’ words from a Hebraic-Jewish perspective, we can see what has been obscured by mistranslation and lack of familiarity with Judaism. The passages construed to support pacifism actually condemn revenge rather than self-defense. It is not surprising that this interpretation is consistent with Jesus’ other teachings and the rest of biblical instruction.

³  From A Song of Faith , adopted in 2012 as one of the statements of doctrine of the United Church of Canada:

….. We are all touched by this brokenness:

          the rise of selfish individualism

          that erodes human solidarity;

          the concentration of wealth and power

          without regard for the needs of all;

          the toxins of religious and ethnic bigotry;

          the degradation of the blessedness of human bodies

          and human passions through sexual exploitation;

          the delusion of unchecked progress and limitless growth

          that threatens our home, the earth;

          the covert despair that lulls many into numb complicity

          with empires and systems of domination.

We sing lament and repentance.

Yet evil does not—cannot—

          undermine or overcome the love of God.

God forgives,

          and calls all of us to confess our fears and failings

          with honesty and humility.

God reconciles,

          and calls us to repent the part we have played

          in damaging our world, ourselves, and each other.

God transforms,

          and calls us to protect the vulnerable,

          to pray for deliverance from evil,

          to work with God for the healing of the world,

          that all might have abundant life.

We sing of grace.

This series is interrupted…

The weather in our part of Turtle Island was pretty nasty last weekend, so some of our congregations did not meet.

I was away, not coincidentally, on a professional development course on mediation when there is one specific incident where reconciliation – arguably real justice, not court justice – might be achieved. That means those who did have my reflection may have felt awkward reading someone else’s words…

So, rather than ploughing ahead with The Next Line, we spent time reflecting together more about how do we show our love of others? Can “doing for others” become beneficial to us rather than to the one to whom we are giving our help or gifts?

And how does knowing we are not alone help us to feel beloved? And if we are beloved (by God) then what is it that is worth fearing? Absolutely nothing!

Watch for Mar 17th edition, when we turn to “seek justice and resist evil”