Thursday 28 September 2017

A Thought For The Week Of September 25, 2017

"‘These who were hired last worked only one hour,’ they said, ‘and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day.’" (Matthew 21:12) If the purpose of a parable is to shock the hearer or reader in order to get a reaction from them, then the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Matthew 20:1-16) is probably even more effective today than it was when Jesus first told it. The truth is that in so many ways this parable jars 21st century ears; it just doesn't work today - and that probably gets our attention and gets us thinking. Most of we justice-oriented Christians should be outraged at this image. If we saw this happening today there would be demands that the workers should form a union because we'd probably agree that those who were hired first and worked longer should be paid more. That only seems fair. It's justice! And this idea of the landowner who should be able to do whatever he wants to do with his money? Nonsense. That's capitalism gone mad! He's exploiting some workers and not properly compensating others for their labour! Justice for the workers! Especially for those who worked longer or had more seniority. This parable - using economics and labour as its basis - is just so totally foreign to 21st century ears in the Western world. But the more we think about it, perhaps the more powerful it gets - from a spiritual perspective anyway. God's grace cannot be parcelled out among God's people as if it's a part of some cosmic collective bargaining agreement. God's grace is, in fact, offered equally to everyone. There's no reward for coming to faith sooner or for possessing faith longer. With the way this parable truly grates on the ears of modern, liberal and progressive Christians, maybe it is in fact more powerful to 21st century ears than it was in Jesus' day. Maybe this parable is a stark reminder to us about the very nature of God. Maybe - just maybe - God isn't really fair. Maybe - just maybe - God is actually love instead! Maybe.

Sunday 24 September 2017

September 24 2017 sermon: That Wasn't Quite What We Expected

For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which I prefer. I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you. Since I am convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again. Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel, and are in no way intimidated by your opponents. For them this is evidence of their destruction, but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing. For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well -  since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have.
(Philippians 1:21-30)

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     One of my favourite movies is "What About Bob?" It's a comedy - and in my opinion at least, one of the funniest movies ever made. Richard Dreyfuss played Dr. Leo Marvin. Leo is a famous psychologist who's just published a book about a new therapy he's developed. Bill Murray played Bob Wylie (the title character) - a troubled neurotic who's afraid of pretty much everything and who comes to Leo for help. Bob becomes uncomfortably attached to Leo, and begins essentially stalking him - even travelling to be near him when Leo takes his family on vacation. Leo can't escape from him. Bob manages to ingratiate himself with Leo's family. They like Bob, and can't understand why Leo is trying to get rid of him. Every time Leo comes up with a plan for them to escape, his wife or children cry out "What about Bob?" One of the things that I loved about the movie is the great twist that comes at the end (so don't listen if you want to find the movie and you don't want a spoiler.) Afte Leo spends the entire movie trying desperately to shake Bob off (to the point at which he tried to blow him up with a bomb) in the last scene we discover that their roles have been completely reversed. Inspired by Leo, Bob has recovered from his neuroses and gone on to become a famous psychologist himself and published a best selling book of his own - and getting married to Leo's sister added insult to injury! Meanwhile, tormented by Bob, Leo has been reduced to an incoherent and quivering mass of jelly totally unable to function. It's a gradual and brilliant evolution of the two characters that plays out throughout the movie, and it's not at all what you would have expected from either character when the movie opened.

     In a way, that's what life is like, isn't it. The unexpected keeps happening. things don't always make sense. We can't always predict what's going to happen. The person with the most votes doesn't always win the election. (Just ask Hillary Clinton about that one!) The smartest person doesn't always get the best grades. Although it's a  myth that Albert Einstein failed mathematics, it's true that he dropped out of high school, and only later gained a degree in physics after struggling to find a university that would accept him because of his lack of a high school diploma. And the best team doesn't always win the championship. In 1938 the Chicago Black Hawks had won only 14 of the 48 games they played that season, but they went on to beat Montreal, New York and Toronto in the playoffs to win the Stanley Cup. And, as we all know, sometimes bad things happen to good people - even to those we think of as the best people. Life doesn't always work out the way we expect it will or the way we think it should. There was even someone who once said "the last shall be first." Go figure that one out! I think Paul had such things on his mind as he penned these verses in the letter he wrote to the church of Philippi.

     "For [God] has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well -  since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have." These words of Paul cut against the grain. Many people have a mindset that says that faith is some sort of magic elixir that's supposed to make things all better. I think that's especially the case among people who are new to the faith, because many people come to faith because of some sort of trial or challenge in their life, and they believe that faith - at least to an extent - is the answer. And, obviously, there's great comfort to be found in faith. I've felt it at various times over the years when I've faced some hardship, and I hope all of you have felt it as well. But at times we still fall into the trap of looking at faith from a simple reward-punishment perspective. As long as things are good (or at least getting better) then faith works; otherwise, something's wrong, and maybe we should just give up on faith because if things aren't all better then faith isn't of much value. But Paul wasn't under that illusion.  We aren't only to believe in Christ, he says, we are to suffer for him - and both are gifts from God. That's quite a gift. As I said, it cuts against the grain. It doesn't make sense. Suffering is not what we expect for people of faith. 21st century culture goes to great lengths to avoid suffering. We strive to make life more fun and fulfilling. Even worship has to be entertaining, because we may live for Christ and we might even be willing to die for Christ but we sure don't want to be bored for Christ, even if it's just for an hour. And our society admires people who succeed in life and fulfill their dreams and amass their wealth. And faith should help us do that. Right? I understand why people would think in these ways. After all, there really aren't very many role models for the idea that "dying is gain," as Paul wrote at the beginning of today's passage. And let's face it - a lot of the best known Christians in the world today who come to represent what Christianity is about for a lot of people aren't suffering very much. They have private jets and big mansions and fancy cars and lot of other perks. I myself drive a 2015 Honda Civic that already has about 85000 kilometres on it - and, let me tell you, it doesn't get any better than that! And some people think that Christian faith should promise wealth and riches and success and health and prosperity of every kind. But that's a very secular way of looking at faith that buys into the idea that it's all about getting more and doing well and living the high and easy life with all the toys that accompany such a life. But - I wonder - where did Jesus ever say that? Where did Paul ever say that?

     It's important to understand Paul's context. Most people believe that Paul wrote this letter while he was in prison in Rome, knowing that his imprisonment might lead to his execution. So he had a unique perspective on this subject. He had given up everything to follow Jesus, and what was his reward? A prison cell and perhaps execution. The church at Philippi was a special community to Paul. He had a close relationship with them. They had probably heard of his plight. Perhaps they had begun to question the value of faith. Perhaps they were asking, "If this could happen to Paul - then what's the point?" So Paul wants to encourage them. It's as if he's saying, "Don't be surprised. This is what you should expect if you really belong to Christ." But why? It's not what the Philippians expected. To add to their confusion, the Philippians themselves may have been starting to experience the first pangs of persecution, as the Roman Empire saw this movement beginning to grow and challenge the status quo.

     Now - there's the rub. They challenged the status quo. Jesus, Paul, the Philippians - all these nuisance Christians were challenging the status quo. And the people who benefit from the status quo (the people who gain power from it) don't like the status quo being challenged. And even those who don't benefit from it often prefer the familiar to something new. Karen's children's story was based on a story from the Book of Exodus where the people of God lamented that they were no longer slaves in Egypt - because at least in Egypt and in slavery they had homes and onions. And if it comes to a choice between the familiar and comfortable and the unfamiliar and uncomfortable - well, we'll often take the familiar and comfortable, even if that means leaving God behind and giving up our freedom. But what the Hebrews had to learn through the formational stories of the Bible, and what Christians are still learning, is that faith and following God isn't always going to be a walk in the park. You can't say to society that "the last shall be first" without expecting some pushback from the ones who are already "first!" And if there isn't any pushback - if Christianity has become that which is comfortable and unchallenging to those who are already "first" - then we need to ask what's wrong, because it really shouldn't be that way.

     There is a danger to this way of thinking. If we personalize what Paul says too much we can too easily fall into the trap of suggesting that people should just put up with suffering or abuse as if it's some sort of badge of honour. That's not what Paul was taling about. He's not talking about passively accepting the abuse of others; he's talking about our willingness to suffer for Christ because of the revolutionary message our faith proclaims. Listen to these words: "the last shall be first;" the weak shall be strong;" "the meek shall inherit the earth;" "there is neither slave nor free." In Luke 1, in Mary's Song - which we often hear before Christmas - Mary said of God that "he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty."  These are all radical and even revolutionary words. All the distinctions that our society makes to differentiate between those on the top and those on the bottom are to be done away with - and that invites trouble if we really live it. It's no wonder that Christianity has always appealed most to the poor and the outcast - and still does. If we truly live by the teachings of Jesus then who else would stand by the poor and the outcast and the marginalized and the powerless and the despised more than Christians? And who else would expect to face more opposition than Christians?

     I'm not saying that we should invite suffering or persecution into our lives. But I am saying that we should be prepared as a community to take the risk of challenging the way things are, of holding up a vision where all people are treated as God's children, where all that divides us is set aside, where we don't measure a person's worth by the size of their bank account or by the label on their clothes or by the model of car they drive. Our goal should be to be a truly prophetic voice holding up a vision of a society in which all people are valued and respected and treated with dignity simply because they are loved by God. Tht's going to rub a few people the wrong way. It might even cause us a bit of trouble. And that may not be what the world has conditioned us to expect from faith - because the world tries to tame faith; to make it docile and comfortable and weak and inoffensive to anyone - because if we're all those things then we're no threat to anyone and no threat to change anything. But Jesus was not docile and comfortable and weak and inoffensive. Jesus challenged the society he lived in, and - yes - Jesus paid a price. But he made a difference in the lives of those he encountered, and he made a difference in the world. As his followers, shouldn't we be as willing as he was to upset the apple cart and even to turn things upside down?

Thursday 21 September 2017

A Thought For The Week Of September 18, 2017

"Have them make an ark of acacia wood—two and a half cubits long, a cubit and a half wide, and a cubit and a half high. Overlay it with pure gold, both inside and out, and make a gold molding around it." (Exodus 25:10-11) Recently I've been doing a lot of personal devotional reading through the Book of Exodus, and I've come in the last few days to those parts of the story that can be pretty dry reading - the sections that talk about offerings and the construction of various things like the Ark and the table and the lampstands, etc. Not the sort of thing that would usually lend itself to a lot of spiritual inspiration you might say. But I also remember the admonition of the New Testament that all Scripture is inspired and useful. So I wonder - how, today, are such dry parts of the story that seem to have so little relevance to Christians in 2017 useful to us? Well, one thing that struck me about the various accounts was that - however dry - they are full of details - lots of them. And the stories are also full of gold - lots of it. In fact, those have to be the two things that stood out for me in this part of Exodus. - and particularly the part of Exodus that deals with the building of the Ark. Obviously the Ark was important. It was where what you might call "the originals" of the Ten Commandments would be kept and preserved - and those commandments, of course, were the basic revelation from God of how the people were to live in community with one another and in relationship with God. So, perhaps, one can understand both the details and the gold and why it was so important for those who wrote these accounts to stress both so much. It's a matter of honour and respect. The details show respect for God - the Ark must be just perfect if the people are to meet God there. The gold honours God. It is the most precious of metals - and its use signifies the over-arching value of the people's relationship with God. The Ark couldn't just be slapped together haphazardly. It had to be put together carefully and used respectfully. In that sense the details and the gold are not a bad analogy for God's people even today in terms of how to nurture our relationship with God - with great care and attention and in a way that demonstrates that our relationship with God is the most important thing of all, since it guides our relationships with others. We're no longer building arks or temples, and our faith isn't measured by gold or money - but passages like this can still be a reminder of our need to put all of ourselves into the relationship we enjoy with God.

Sunday 17 September 2017

September 17 2017 sermon: On Forgiveness: A Faithful And Biblical Definition

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”
(Matthew 18:21-35)

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     A couple of weeks ago on Labour Day weekend, Lynn and Hannah and I worshipped at St. Paul's Presbyterian Church in Oshawa. Hannah had been asked to be the guest musician for them that Sunday and it was a chance to check out a different church. It was a Presbyterian Church, of course, so the service wasn't a great deal different from a typical United Church service - but there was one moment that threw me off ever so slightly. It was when we were reciting the Lord's Prayer, and I started to say the words "and forgive us our trespasses ..." and at that moment I realized that something was wrong. I wasn't in sync with the rest of the congregation anymore. I had to stop and listen for a moment, and then I realized what was wrong. I was saying "trespasses" and the rest of the congregation were saying "debts." "Forgive us our trespasses" as opposed to "forgive us our debts." As I thought about it later, it seemed to me that the difference had something to do with how we understand forgiveness. What are we forgiving? Perhaps even how are we supposed to forgive. It also struck me as important that this came into my mind as I was reflecting on The Lord's Prayer. Aside from our sacraments (Baptism and Holy Communion) if there's anything that's a "ritual" in the universal Christian church, it's probably reciting the Lord's Prayer. Its just a part of our lives of faith. If you look at the structure of the Lord's Prayer, you find that it begins with an acknowledgement of the qualities of God, and it ends with an acknowledgement of our own need, but pretty much right in the middle, there's what you might call a "bridge" about forgiveness that helps us transition from one to the other. "Forgive us ... as we forgive" are the central words of this universal prayer that's known even to people who've never set foot in a church in their lives. In just a few words, the most familiar prayer of Christian faith reminds us that (1) God is forgiving, (2) we are in need of God's forgiveness, and (3) we need to be forgiving of others. So, forgiveness is central to our faith as Christians. But is it "trespasses" or "debts" that are being forgiven. I think it's important to reflect on this, because if forgiveness is central to our faith, then it's important for us to really understand the concept.

     "Trespasses" suggests that we need to be forgiven for going places that we shouldn't be going - and that we need to offer forgiveness for the same thing; "debts" on the other hand, suggests that we've been let off the hook for something that we owe, and that we need to let others off the hook for what they owe to us as well. In most United Churches I've been familiar with over the years, "trespasses" is the word used, and while I challenge church traditions very cautiously, of course, I have to say that this traditional version of the Lord's Prayer that we use week after week (and some of us perhaps on a daily basis) is wrong. The word in the New Testament literally means "something that's owed." It means a debt, in other words, and not really a trespass. That puts the whole idea of "forgiveness" into what you might call economic terms  rather than strictly moral terms. Jesus seems to be saying that real forgiveness is about not holding someone in debt to you. And that seems to be the emphasis of the parable we read today.

     In this parable, Jesus is speaking in terms of forgiveness, and for lack of a better way of putting it he uses a couple of business exchanges as illustrations that he hopes will help his disciples (including us) to understand what this Christian "business" of forgiveness is all about. As I said, "debt" is really the proper word for "forgiveness" that's used in The Lord's Prayer, so it's not a surprise that Jesus uses debt as an analogy in this parable. Debt is something that almost everyone of every era can relate to. One of the best examples we have today is pay day loan companies. You suddenly need $500 that you don't have, so you go to a payday loan company and borrow $500. The company charges you interest, meaning that you have to pay back more than what you got out of your next paycheque, meaning that you're in debt and you need another payday loan, which results in more interest and more debt. And on and on it goes! Did you know that the Criminal Code of Canada allows interest rates of up to 60%! So you end up working not to put anything aside or even to pay your day to day expenses - you work to pay back the payday loan company. Debt is a burdensome thing, and so many people who are in debt can never get out of debt. They just constantly owe their creditor. They can't live their life in freedom, or even with any hope for freedom. This parable uses a 1st century version of what's still an every day problem to make a spiritual point.

     In the parable, the debt is huge: "ten thousand talents." If you think that at least "ten thousand" puts a limit on the amount owed, think again. In the ancient Greek culture to which the Gospels were written, the highest possible number was 10,000. There was no higher number than 10,000. In the modern world, it's like a child trying to imagine the biggest possible number and you hear something like "a million, billion, trillion, jillion, kazillion times." So the point of the parable is that "the sky's the limit" with this debt. The man in the parable cannot pay it off; he has no hope of paying it off. He's constantly in bondage to the king, and in this part of the parable the response to the unpayable debt is an unimaginable forgiveness. The traditional rule of the rabbis was to forgive someone three times, so when Peter asks about offering forgiveness seven times, he's being surprisingly generous - going above and beyond the call of duty. What more could be expected? But Jesus expected more! Jesus makes the amount of forgiveness to be offered essentially the same as the amount of the unimaginable debt. "Seventy seven times," he says. The number isn't all that important. What matters is the point Jesus is making. "Seventy seven" is as symbolic as "ten thousand talents" or "a million, billion, trillion, jillion, kazillion times." So much traditional Christian language and so many of our hymns speak of the huge debt we owe God - and that all totally misses the point. The debt we owed God was so huge that it was unimaginable - and equally unimaginable is that we don't owe it a anymore. We simply can't comprehend the amount of forgiveness God has given us. Nelson Mandela (in my opinion perhaps the greatest man of our times) once said that "... forgiveness liberates the soul. It removes fear. That is why it is such a powerful weapon." It's a powerful weapon not because it does harm to others, but because it sets us free no matter what others may do or demand.

     In the parable, the debt is huge. The forgiveness granted is huge. And - maybe most important - the forgiveness demanded from us in the light of the parable is huge. And that's the point of the second part of the parable - how do those who are forgiven respond to their forgiveness? The first man owed the king an unimaginable debt, but the second man owed the first man "a hundred denarii." From what I've read that would be the equivalent today of about 16 cents. The point of the parable is that real forgiveness is about not holding people in your debt. You'd think that the man who had just been forgiven an unimaginable debt could overlook 16 cents. But no. He demanded the 16 cents. He threw the second man in jail for refusing to pay the debt. But who, in the end, paid the biggest price? It was the man who wouldn't forgive - he ended up being handed over to jailers by the king to be tortured. Understand the parable - God is not the jailer. God isn't torturing anyone. I think that the unforgiving man is being tortured by unforgiveness itself. Unforgiveness places a  burden on us - it eats away at our soul and it saps our life of joy. It makes us bitter and angry. It isolates us. God won't prevent that from happening. It's our choice if we refuse to forgive and God will turn us over to our unforgiving attitudes. But God wants us to live in freedom, and so God solves the problem of unpaid debt by simply cancelling the debt and choosing not to hold us in bondage. God sets the example for us in other words and asks us to live in the same way. Think about what that would mean to you in everyday terms: consider the mortgage covered; consider the car paid off; consider the credit cards wiped clean; consider the line of credit balance suddenly at zero. Consider the freedom you would have if you literally had no debts to anyone. None. Zero. Nada. That's what God does for us. We owe God everything, and yet we owe God nothing - because God has forgiven the debt. God doesn't hold us in debt because being indebted to God would take away our freedom as children of God. We offer forgiveness for the same reason - so that people are free from their burdens to us and able to live full lives as children of God. Forgiveness takes away indebtedness, and taking away indebtedness gives freedom. That's what God does for us. That's what forgiveness is all about. Forgiveness is freedom that we receive from God and freedom that we offer to others.

Friday 15 September 2017

A Thought For The Week Of September 11, 2017

The passage that extends from Exodus 23:20-33 sounds to me like something that might have been written after the fact , with the author looking back at events and placing God into them. Which, I concede, might at times be a fair way of discerning God's presence. I think it's reasonable that, especially when things aren't very good, we have trouble seeing God and we only see God's presence after the fact. The famous "Footprints" poem illustrates that very well. However, the tendency to read God's presence into the past can also be used to justify a lot of things. In this passage, for example, the author describes God as "a terror" and a "hornet" whose primary goal seems to be to wipe out or drive away the original inhabitants of the land. To me, that comes across as an after the fact justification for ungodly acts rather than actual commands of God. But one thing I do take away from this passage that I'd argue is positive is the the way that the story opens in verse 20: "I am going to send an angel before you to protect you as you journey and to bring you into the place that I have prepared." There's a conviction in the words of that verse - a conviction that, no matter what's happening or what circumstances they're facing, God is guiding the people. So, before God was either "a terror" or a "hornet" there's reference to an angel guarding God's people as they travelled; guiding them to where God wanted them to be. What I really found myself wondering about is the identity of the angel. Was it a supernatural, spiritual being God had sent to them, or was this a human who had been called to lead the people on their journey. Was the angel perhaps even Moses, whom we know had been called to leadership? I tend toward the latter interpretations - but I have an open mind on the subject. Perhaps we just have to acknowledge that angels can come in many forms. What's important is that God is always with God's people - always guiding us and helping us along the way. When we get to where it is that we're going (and most assuredly along the way) we don't always do a good job of reflecting God's image to those around us. We are works in progress - each one of us. But there are angels in many forms guiding us in he ways of God, if only we'll listen to them.

Sunday 10 September 2017

September 10 2017 sermon: Why The Church Family Matters

If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.
(Matthew 18:15-20)

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     It was in some ways an innocent comment made as a post in a Facebook group that I belong to for ministers. The subject under discussion was the concept of the church as a family. That's an image that happens to be very important to me. I think it says something about both our relationship with God and our relationship with each other; I think it gives us some guiding principles about how to live our lives of faith together as a community. It also helps to explain both the strengths and weaknesses of the church as a whole and of individual churches, because - let's face it - just as families can be healthy or unhealthy, functional or dysfunctional, so can churches be all of those things. "Family" then, I believe, is an important image for the church. So I was a bit troubled by some of the comments that were being made in that online discussion. One person - whom I know a little bit - said that we have to be very careful with the image of the church as a family because we have to remember that the family connection in the church isn't by blood. But do families have to be blood relatives? As an adoptive parent, I'd obviously have to say "no" to that one. Families are much more than just the people you're related to by blood and genetics. But it was someone else's comment that bothered me the most. It was from a person I went to theological college with years ago but haven't seen since I graduated in 1994. She said flat out, with no hesitation, that "we are not a family." And when I read those words I thought - "that must create a warm and happy and caring environment, when the minister states flat out to the congregation that 'we are not a family.'" I found that comment very sad, and it caused me to do a lot of reflection upon the image of the church as a family and why that image is important. Because - to me - it's absolutely vital. I say that we are, indeed, a family.

     Our passage from Matthew this morning doesn't specifically use the language of family to speak about the church, but it does speak about the relationships we have within the church and how those relationships should be lived out. And, to me anyway, our relationships within this community are always conducted within the context of a Christian family. Families are complex things. Some are closer than others, and within families some family members are closer than other family members. Within families, there's a sense of connection and belonging - sometimes whether you like it or not! Remember the old saying: you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family. Our families give us the basis for how we identify ourselves. Within families there's usually a lot of love - and the reality of that means that there can also be a lot of flareups, and I've known family fights that have turned into very long-lasting and unpleasant situations because when we feel let down by the poeple we also feel we should be closest to, it's difficult to let go of. Church fights are a lot like that as well. Church fights can easily get out of hand - I've seen that happen - because we know what this community is supposed to be all about. We know that we're supposed to love each other and serve each other and support each other and encourage each other. And usually we do a pretty good job of doing that - but when we fail to do it (when we choose instead to judge or to criticize or to attack; or when we unintentionally hurt someone by a thoughtless word or a careless act or an inadvertent slight) then the community - the church family - is battered and bruised. And the unfortunate reality is that even though this is the church and even though we're followers of Jesus every now and then we do slip up and we do say or do things we shouldn't do or we do forget to do something that we should do, and the hurt that gets caused can be devastating, and it can take a long time to heal - if it ever really heals. And we all have the potential to be a part of the problem. As Eric Barretto (a New Testament scholar) wrote,

We are rather expert at spotting those rabble rousers around us, identifying their destructive habits, and condemning the ways they seek to destablilize our communities. Noticing when we are engaged in these very same behaviours is another story. After all, some of those troublesome people are us.

          But if we do have the potential to be part of the problem, then we also have to remember that we all have the potential to be part of the solution when a problem arises. When things happen that are destructive of the community and that have the potential to pull people apart, that's when it's most important for us to think like a family and to start to pull together as a community and to find a way out. I believe that's what this passage from Matthew's Gospel is telling us to do.

     Was Jesus intending to give his disciples a step by step manual for conflict resolution? I don't think so. What I do think Jesus was trying to do was instill in his disciples' hearts the importance of the church being a true community among and between very diverse people who - in spite of their differences - could all agree that they were bound together by their faith as children of God, and therefore as family to one another. Jesus, I suspect, expected that there would be differences and divisions and even conflicts within this family he had called into being. Jesus said, "truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven." Most people take those words out of context. They don't take the time to consider the setting into which Jesus spoke them. They come in the context of how to deal with divisions among believers. If you read those words in that context, it's actually a rather sobering verse. In that context, it sounds less like Jesus saying with authority, "... if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven." Instead, it sounds like Jesus wistfully saying, "... if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven." Do you see the difference that the emphasis makes? The way I've come to read this passage, it's actually Jesus lamenting that it was going to be hard for his band of disciples (whether the 12 he had at that moment, or the billions he's had since, including us) to find even two who could be in complete agreement on anything - which is kind of sad when you think about it.But I suspect it's true. It's both a strength and a weakness of the Christian faith. It makes Christianity more approachable for some people because it gives them the freedom to explore and think and pray and come to their own conclusions about many things. But it also means that we then have to live in relationship with those with whom we disagree, and it's easy for our positions to become entrenched and we can become far too convinced that we're right and that everybody else better shape up or ship out, so to speak.

     The point of this passage seems clear, and it isn't the specific step by step details it lays out that matter - that's being far too literalistic. What Jesus is telling us is that we need to work together as a community to ensure the health and well being of the community. Problems need to be dealt with, disagreements need to be acknowledged, concerns need to be shared and conflicts need to be addressed. As children of God - all of us a part of the family of God - we're called by Jesus to work together to keep the family healthy. It's love that requires that we address the challenges that sometimes arise within the family unit. It's not enough to sweep them under the rug and pretend that they're not there. That just allows the pressure to build and eventually blow up, and that makes even a Christian community unable to function as God calls us to. The first Sunday after Labour Day is often looked upon as a kind of unoffical start to the church year. Events start to appear on the calendar, committees start to meet, groups come back to life. A lot happens in September, and a lot's going to continue to happen in the months to come, and, as in all families, when things get busy from time to time we're going to have disagreements, and we need to remember to take Jesus' advice and to work together as a community to resolve any differences or disagreements when they arise without making anyone in the community feel as if they're unimportant or not being heard.

     I was taken with the words of Rev. Quinn Caldwell that I included as food for thought in our bulletin today:

There are problems in this world that a body cannot handle alone. There are situations that cannot be saved by a single person. There are currents you can never swim your own way out of. Which is why ... God gave us the church, the place where we link ourselves up, make our bodies into the Body, and perform miracles that none of us could perform alone.

     The church has important things to do. In fact, there are things that need to be done in this world that won't be done if the church doesn't do them. And in order for us to be about God's work in the world, we need to be able to function as the best of what a family should be - in a relationship of love and caring and support that makes each one of us bring out the best in all of us. Simply because we are a family - the family of God!

Wednesday 6 September 2017

A Thought For The Week Of September 4, 2017

"For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either.  And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins." (1 Corinthians 15:16-17) I don't like to judge others or what they believe. Suffice to say that I openly share what I believe and allow others the freedom to do the same. Generally speaking, I don't pass judgement on those who claim to be Christians. If you call yourself a Christian, I'll accept that you're a Christian unless there's something obvious in your life that directly contradicts Jesus. But I do admit that privately there are things that I wonder about. How it's possible to claim to be a Christian and yet to deny the resurrection of Jesus is one of those things. To me, the resurrection of Jesus is the centrepiece of Christianity; the bottom line of the faith. What's the point of being a Christian if you don't believe that Jesus was resurrected? It literally makes no sense to me. I get that people say that they follow the teachings or example of Jesus - "the Way." And that's wonderful. But does that make a person a Christian? Anyone can follow the ethical teachings and example of Jesus - without believing in him and perhaps without even knowing that they're following his teaching or example, because they're actually pretty basic ethical teachings that ground pretty much all faiths and that ground even humanism. If any one thing marks one openly as a Christian - as a true disciple of Jesus - it's belief in Jesus' resurrection. It was the resurrection that called the earliest Christian community into being and that gave those early Christians the courage to persevere in their faith and to bear witness to Jesus in spite of persecution. It's belief in the resurrection of Jesus that strengthens Christians in many parts of the world today to do the same. The resurrection of Jesus from the dead demonstrates that nothing can stop Jesus and those who believe in him from continuing his mission to the world. Without that passionate belief in the resurrection it's very likely that the Christian movement would have faded away quickly and quietly - and likely still would if the resurrection ever became an optional add-on to Christian faith rather than the vital centre of Christian faith. As Paul, said, if you don't believe that Jesus was raised from the dead then Christian faith is pointless; it's empty. For me, resurrection really is the bottom line. Christian faith makes no sense without it.