October 29 sermon: Becoming ...

For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

(1 Corinthians 13:9-13)

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. 

(John 1:1-5)

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     Two hundred years. That’s a long time. Although I guess it’s all relative. I’ve been to places like England and China and seen buildings and castles and walls, etc. that are a lot older than that – but, from our perspective here in North America, two hundred years seems a long time to have been serving God. None of us have been around all that time, of course – although there may be days when it feels like it. I’ve only been here a little over two years. That’s 1% of that history – and that’s the first time (and probably the only time) that I’ll ever be counted as a member of the 1%!

     I’ve done a little bit of historical research over the last little while. In most ways that would normally be considered noteworthy, 1817 was not a particularly eventful year. Except, perhaps, in this part of the world – because, friends, while I consider myself to be largely a Calvinist, I received my doctorate from a Methodist seminary, and I have to say that when the Methodists show up you know great things are going to follow! Considering the last 200 years and looking around today, I think it’s safe to say that, indeed, great things have followed. The last two hundred years for this congregation and its predecessors have not always been easy years. In both church and society there have been many challenges to face and to overcome – and there remain challenges to face and to overcome. The society we try to reach out to today is not the same society that those first Methodists tried to reach out to in 1817, or even that our own United Church predecessors tried to reach out to in 1925 or fifty years ago or even twenty years ago. Society changes; culture changes – and, always, the church is faced with the tension of on the one hand having to change to remain relevant and on the other hand having eternal truths about an eternal and unchanging God that we need to proclaim. That’s not an easy task – and it’s no surprise that there are often bumps along the way. Those who two hundred years ago began the journey that would eventually lead to Pickering Village United Church and to our gathering here today had no idea, of course, what the future would hold. They couldn’t have had any idea of the various twists and turns and developments that would lead to October 29, 2017 – some of which we saw played out just a few minutes ago. But if they didn’t know what the future held, what they would have known was who held the future. As an old gospel hymn says, “Many things about tomorrow I don’t need to understand, but I know who holds tomorrow, and I know who holds my hand.”

    Our ancestors in the faith trusted that God would guide them to – well – wherever it was that God wanted them to be, and that God would transform them into whatever it was that God wanted them to become – all so that they could be of service to God and to God’s people. And they become our example for today; a people of faith who trusted God with the future. Sometimes we have a tendency to measure either our success or our faithfulness by what’s happening in the present; by the immediate impact of whatever it is that we’re doing. So our “success” is defined by how much money there is in the bank or how many folks there are in the pews or by how many mission projects we’re involved with. I don’t deny that those things are important, but are they really the measure of the success of the church? I think the church that’s successful is not necessarily the church that’s doing a lot of “stuff” or that has a lot of money or whose pews are full, but is rather the church that trusts God with the future. Otherwise we spend our time fearing the present, worrying that we might try something that doesn’t work, wondering if somehow and in some way we might be responsible for the failure of the gospel. And while the example of faithful saints from our past should inspire us, I do find myself wondering if sometimes it holds us back.

     We live, admittedly, in a difficult era for the church. No one would dispute that. And because we face difficulties, rather than faithfully serving and trusting God with the future, we sometimes have a tendency to fearfully serve and fall into nostalgia for the past. I hear it all the time. “I remember when ...” And usually what follows is not a celebration of the past, but a lament for the present. “Things aren’t as good as they used to be”; “If only we could be like that again.” Sometimes the past holds us captive, because we yearn to return to it – a better time; a simpler time – instead of looking ahead. But we will never return to the past, and so we should not allow the past to become a prison; the past should be an example and an an inspiration as we move confidently and faithfully into the future.

     We, as much as the Methodists of 1817, are in the process of becoming. We are becoming what God wants us to be; we are being transformed into whatever will serve God’s purposes best. Paul, I think, has a good perspective on the future in 1 Corinthians. That reading is taken from the famous “wedding” passage about love. It’s read at almost every wedding you’ll ever attend – and the ironic thing is that marriage was the last thing on Paul’s mind when he wrote it. In context, Paul was writing about spiritual gifts and how to use them. The gifts God gives us should be used always in love and for the best interest of the community and not for self-aggrandizement. And then he thought about what the future held; he reflected on what those Christians were becoming - “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully ...” Paul understood what “becoming” was all about. He understood that whatever we may be now, we are only a shadow of what we will be one day as God continues to create and re-create us; to mold us into what we are called to be; to lead us into our destiny.

     The past is a part of that. We build on the foundation of those who came before us in faith, of the apostles and prophets, and of Jesus himself. We build on the foundation of the church’s teaching and witness and mission. We build on the foundation of the Scriptures. And these things – if we hold to them – don’t lock us into the past, they propel us into the future as people who know that we have a God-given calling to fulfil that we are living into each and every day, even if the challenges sometimes seem overwhelming and perhaps at times even insurmountable. And so they are if we deal with our challenges by our own strength and with faith only in our own ability to navigate through them. But we do not depend on ourselves. We depend on the God who has been with this congregation and its people throughout the least two hundred years. And, depending on God, we know that we will one day arrive at where we are destined to be – then we will see face to face; then we will know fully. But for now, we trust, and we go about God’s work not to save ourselves in the present or to safeguard our future – those things we leave in God’s hands – but simply as a grateful response to the faithfulness God has shown to us over the last two centuries.

     Natalie Sleeth’s hymn, which we sang just a few minutes ago, reminds us that “from the past will come the future; what it holds a mystery, unrevealed until its season something God alone can see.” Friends, we do not know what the future holds. What we do know is that – with God’s help – we are becoming the future. And perhaps 200 years from now another group of people will gather somewhere in this area to celebrate their 400th anniversary – and we will be among their past as they continue the process of becoming. I think back to the words of our Gospel reading earlier:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

     We are now that light, bearing faithful witness to the Word, becoming whatever it is that God calls us to be. May we move forward – always in faith, always with love, always becoming, until we see face to face, and know fully; until the partial ends and the complete comes; until God’s Kingdom is established among us and among all God’s children. Amen.

A Thought For The Week Of October 23, 2017

"But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong." (1 Corinthians 1:27) God will do whatever God will do, and God will choose whomever God will choose. That seems to be the basic message of this passage. We have a tendency to assume that God will do things "our" way - that God will act exactly as we expect God to act. Here is where we find the truth in the accusation that we create God in our own image - which is an accusation often lobbed at Christians, and not without reason. The ironic thing about it is that it is not at all a biblical principle; it's not even remotely what the Bible tells us to expect from God. The Bible tells us that God acts in ways that can amaze and confound and confuse and sometimes even anger us. This passage (vv. 27-31) points that out. Who would choose the foolish or the weak or the low for an important task? You would look for the opposites - the wise and the powerful and the rich. You would look for those who are respected and admired and envied. Who else would serve God? Who else would God choose? Except - God chooses whomever God will choose. God delights in the foolish and the weak and the low. Possibly because they're the ones most open to God, while those whom we put on a pedestal are usually too busy blowing their own horns, delighting in their successes and assuming that their agenda is God's agenda. And it's easy for the rest of us to give in, and assume that those folks and what they are and what they have are the chosen of God. Not necessarily. Maybe not even commonly. We have to be very careful to recognize everyone we meet - no matter their station in life - as potentially one who is called by God to speak God's truth and to reveal God's ways to us. Not everyone speaks for God, of course - but anyone could speak for God. That's the point. We dismiss people before we take time to discern at our own peril.

A Thought For The Week Of October 16, 2017

"In those days Hezekiah became ill and was at the point of death. The prophet Isaiah son of Amoz went to him and said, 'This is what the Lord says: Put your house in order, because you are going to die; you will not recover.'" (Isaiah 38:1) If you read the story of King Hezekiah's illness (which is Isaiah 38:1-8) it's very easy to be dazzled by the miracles and signs and wonders you find in it. There are at least three of them you could focus on. First is the prophetic word of Isaiah to Hezekiah, second is the healing of Hezekiah and third (and most mysterious) is the strange interruption in the transit of the sun. You can make of those things what you will, but I've never been one to dismiss the possibility of miracles. With God, after all, all things are possible. And yet, even so, as I read this passage I found my attention drawn not to the miracles of the passage but to a very practical point - some good and practical advice for living that we find in v. 1, right off the start, before any of the miracles: "put your house in order, because you are going to die ..." Wow. That's a sobering thought that most people probably don't want to reflect on. Death - and our mortality - is really a subject we'd prefer to avoid at all costs most of the time. But it is inevitable, and there is a lot to be said for making sure that we've put our affairs in order. If it was important for Israel's king, after all - why not us? Perhaps the things we need to put in order are entirely secular - it's good to have a will, and a pre-planned funeral and a power of attorney. All these things are very good, in fact. But the principle applies spiritually as well. It's good to have our spiritual house in order. It's good to have a positive relationship with God. It's good to mend any broken relationships we might have with others. It's good to be at peace. It's good to recognize that while we don't relish the prospect of dying, neither should we fear death. It's good to live with the hope (that we find abundantly in the resurrection of Jesus) that God sees us through death and into eternity in his presence. It's good to have our spiritual house in order - and all those things are signs that we've accomplished that goal.

October 15 sermon - The Gospel Struggle

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved. I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel, together with Clement and the rest of my co-workers, whose names are in the book of life. Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

(Philippians 4:1-9)

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     I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but political silly season has begun again. There is, after all, a provincial election coming up in about nine months, and we’ve started to see TV attack ads. The Liberals are running ads attacking Patrick Brown, and the Conservatives are running ads attacking Kathleen Wynn, and that’s probably going to be our reality for the next nine months, because it’s always so much easier to attack someone else than it is to actually defend ourselves. And that isn’t just the reality in politics. There’s evidence of it in the Bible, as well. Paul may tell us that Christ has given us a ministry of reconciliation, but when people can’t agree – even on matters of faith – it’s a lot easier for us just to try to tear down those who disagree with us rather than to try to reconcile with one another. That’s the way it is today; that’s the way it was in the very first generation of the church. Reconciliation is hard – divide and attack is so much easier. Those who are familiar with the New Testament will immediately think of the situation of the church in Corinth – which was a terribly conflicted church that had split apart on all sorts of issues, but it wasn’t restricted to Corinth. In our reading this morning, we found that the problem had raised its ugly head in Philippi as well.

     Today’s passage focuses on two women named Euodia and Synteche. We don’t really know who Euodia and Syntyche were. Their names only appear in this one verse of the Bible – Philippians 4:2 – and this one verse and its context doesn't really tell us very much. But there are some things about them that we can infer from this one very brief reference. It seems that Euodia and Syntyche had worked together closely in the church in Philippi, but somewhere along the way something had happened between them. It probably started over something small (which is how church conflicts often begin) but as time went by and these two who had previously worked together so closely became more and more estranged, it began to affect the entire community. Paul – who had a deep and intimate relationship with this church – wanted to heal the rift, and so he “urged” them – he “pleaded” with them, some translations say – to be reconciled, and to “be of the same mind in the Lord.” What I found myself wondering was what caused them to be estranged. Over the years, I’ve seen some pretty silly things that have caused big conflicts in churches. But whether it’s a silly issue or whether it’s a big issue, at its root all conflict is about power. Somebody has the power to do something, and somebody else wants the power to do something different. Or, perhaps, somebody has simply claimed the power to do something without anyone agreeing. Either way, it comes down to power. Euodia and Syntyche had a disagreement. They wanted to do things in different ways. We don’t know the details – but that’s how it must have been. And, as often happens, the church at Philippi probably started to divide. Some took Euodia’s side and some took Syntyche’s side. Church splits are never pretty. I’ve heard the phrase “amoebic church growth” - the idea being that like a single celled organism, the church sometimes splits into two separate parts that go their separate ways, with each part growing into something new and different. It’s a nice theory – but I have my doubts. When I was a lay person I lived through a church split. One group of people stayed in the congregation; one left and started a new congregation. It was all very bitter and in the end neither congregation was as strong as the congregation had been before the split. Today, one is nothing more than a shadow of its former self; the other is long gone. So much for amoebic growth. I suspect this was Paul’s concern as he surveyed the situation at Philippi and the disagreement between Euodia and Syntyche: that whatever the issue was, it had the potential to destroy all that Paul had accomplished in that community as he struggled with Euodia and Synteche and others for the gospel.

     Paul wasn't angry with Euodia and Synteche. He was close to them. He cared about them. He had worked with them. As he said himself, they had "struggled beside [him] in the work of the gospel." Whatever the issue was that had come between them, Paul wanted these women to be reconciled - for their sake, for the sake of the community and for the sake of the gospel, because nothing dishonours the gospel more than a serious church fight. After all, "if those Christians can't even get along with each other, why should we listen to them," many would say. So there's a lot at stake in this fight. As I've said, we don't know what the dispute was about, but in general I find myself wondering if it was a matter of people who had allowed their focus to be taken away from the gospel and turned toward other things?

     The theologian Miroslav Volf said that “the main temptation isn't to reject God outright, but to embrace God as secondary ...” And that’s the truth. When push comes to shove all too often we may say that we believe in God, but what we believe in most is what we already believe, and the temptation is then to use God as a justification for all sorts of bad behaviour. How many people in thew world today of all religions use God as an excuse for hatred or violence? That’s probably not what was happening in Philippi, but still there seems to have been a struggle that must have somehow involved someone putting what they wanted ahead of everything and everyone else – even ahead of God. It can happen so easily – because struggling for the gospel is hard work that brings few material rewards or benefits – and that sometimes demands a price from us.

     It's a struggle to be true to the teachings of Jesus in a society that's either actively hostile to Jesus or that simply chooses to ignore Jesus. Euodia and Synteche faced the first situation; we face the second. They faced persecution from their society; we face indifference from ours. In ancient Philippi, society was threatened by the gospel and attacked the church; in modern Ajax-Pickering, society is indifferent to the gospel and ignores the church. And in either case, it’s very easy for us to lose sight of the gospel, to turn inward to protect ourselves against the world and sometimes even to turn against each other – losing our focus on what really matters, because we get so concerned by things of little or even no importance. We lose sight of the big picture. We see the trees, but we’re blind to the forest. We focus on what matters to us and not on what matters to God or what’s central to the gospel – and most of that happens because it’s hard to keep focused on the gospel when we’re inundated day after day with values and ideas and beliefs that don’t in any way reflect the values and ideas and beliefs that were proclaimed by Jesus. We become creatures of our culture rather than servants of our God, and we break apart – because if our culture tells us anything, it’s that what “I” think is the most important thing and that what “you” think can be dismissed or mocked or attacked if it doesn’t agree with me. That’s the opposite of what the gospel is all about; those types of attitudes are the opposite of what Jesus both taught and lived out. We are to surrender ourselves, humble ourselves, not try to lord it over each other but be one another’s servants. Paul wants Euodia and Syntheche and the rest of the community in Philippi to get back to a way of life that honoured Jesus, and he encouraged it by emphasizing a few simple but important things, so I want you to hear again just a bit of the passage we heard earlier:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

     In just four verses we find references to joy, prayer, thanksgiving and peace. The same Paul who encourages prayer and thanksgiving amidst the difficult circumstances the people of God may face (as I said earlier, whether those difficult circumstances are persecution or indifference) also emphasizes joy and the reality of a peace beyond all understanding. These four things are related. Thanksgiving brings us joy as we focus on all that God has done for us, and prayer results in peace as we’re reminded of God’s never-ending presence with us. A community that demonstrates joy and prayer and thanksgiving and peace is a community demonstrating a vibrant spiritual life and the presence of God within it. But as we struggle for the gospel against a culture that in so many ways is opposed to the gospel those four things can become so difficult, and in the midst of struggle divisions appear and threaten to tear down what God has built.

     Have you ever had a small rock hit your windshield? It leaves a little mark and you think nothing of it. But it’s done damage – and slowly but surely that little mark turns into a crack that spreads and spreads until the whole windshield needs to be replaced. A simple fix could have solved a lot of trouble. When we face troubles – either from outside our community or within it – the fix is pretty simple: joy, prayer, thanksgiving and peace. These things bring us together and hold us together as we struggle to make the gospel message heard.

A Thought For The Week Of October 9, 2017

"Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever; ... He reveals deep and hidden things ..." (Daniel 2:20, 22) You could say that it's the difference between dabbling and diving. How do we approach the things of God: God's Word, God's revelation; God's love; even God's Son. Do we scratch the surface, or do we want to truly "know" all that can be known about God? Do we yearn to go deeply into the things of God. I fear that far too many people are more than satisfied with just barely scratching the surface. They don't make a commitment to knowing God; they don't even really make an attempt. Instead, they satisfy themselves with knowing about God - and the two are not the same thing. Some have said that a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. Or, to quote Francis Bacon, "A little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion." We might prefer today to make Bacon's language more modern and inclusive - but the principle he puts forth is still very relevant: when we dive deeply, we find things that we may never have known or wouldn't otherwise experience. A shallow faith is of little use. It certainly won't save us; nor will it provide us with much strength in those inevitable times when testing comes upon us. Daniel understood. He knew that God would reveal "deep and hidden things" - things hidden not by God's choice but by our own refusal to truly see. Daniel, in a foreign environment and faced with huge pressure to knuckle under and assimilate into Babylonian society, refused. He was strengthened by what he had come to know of God - and his ordeal had perhaps been the life experience that forced him to dive in to the deep and truly meet God rather than to just dabble about in the shallows and find nothing but what he already knew. God's desire for us all is that we should go deep, and have a meaningful and life-changing experience with the divine.

October 8 sermon: Give Thanks For The Gift Of Law

Then God spoke all these words: I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments. You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God, for the Lord will not acquit anyone who misuses his name. Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it. Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you. You shall not murder. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor. When all the people witnessed the thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking, they were afraid and trembled and stood at a distance, and said to Moses, “You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, or we will die.” Moses said to the people, “Do not be afraid; for God has come only to test you and to put the fear of him upon you so that you do not sin.”

(Exodus 20:1-20)

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     It's fascinating to reflect on the influence that Hollywood has had on how we think about the Ten Commandments. Cecil B. DeMille - who, in 1956, made the iconic movie about the event - perhaps  didn't realize (or care) that most people would have his movie and its images in their minds far more than the biblical text from the Book of Exodus when they thought about these Commandments, but they have taken over. Let's think about the movie for a moment. Moses (played by Charlton Heston) went up Mount Sinai and while he was there God chiseled the words of the Ten Commandments on to two stone tablets with a divine finger that acts something like a laser beam and then he gives them to Moses to carry down. When Moses appears at the foot of the mountain, he discovers that the people are running amok (the golden calf story) and he throws the two tablets down among them, where they explode and get the people's attention. It's all very dramatic and well done from the perspective of cinematography. From a biblical perspective? Well ... DeMille actually ignored Chapter 20 (he just skipped right over it) when the Commandments were first given and he dove into Chapter 34 - which is a lot more fun in some ways. In Chapter 20, though, there's no divine finger chiselling the Commandments on to stone and Moses did not go up the mountain to receive the Commandments. (Neither were they thrown into the mob in Chapter 34 to explode among the people - that's classic Hollywood silliness.) What actually happened in Chapter 20 - where the Ten Commandments make their first appearance - is that God speaks the Commandments directly to the people. That's how the story of the Commandments starts: "Then God spoke all these words ..." And, in fact, a lot of biblical scholars today refer to them not as "The Ten Commandments," but as "The Ten Words," because they were first spoken by God to the people.

     To me, that gives the Commandments a different feel. When we think of the Commandments we tend to think immediately of consequences and punishment. "If you break them you're in trouble," seems to be the message. When they're "written in stone" - quite literally - then you better be really careful. The image you get from the movie is of a God of great power who has a very distant relationship to the people and who's an object mostly of fear. God is hidden in the mountain, inaccessible and only wanting to deal with the people through Moses. Otherwise - well - it's probably best to just say it again: God is very distant. But the story of Exodus 20, with the movie and its images chipped away, seems to give us a different feel of God and "The Ten Words." Here, God is with the people, God speaks directly to the people. The Bible still portrays a dramatic scene. There's "... thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking ..." and all that does cause the people to be afraid - but I kind of get the impression that causing fear isn't God's goal, although it may be a natural response when you're confronted by such things. God wants a relationship with the people, and "The Ten Words" are the basis of the covenant God wants to call into being. This is all about God reaching out and saying "Come to me. Walk with me. I'm here." A lot of Christians today have started to use "The Ten Words" (and the wider law that the Commandments introduce that give more specific rules for daily living and worship) as a weapon of sorts. They get used to exclude people. "You're doing what you're not supposed to do, so - you're out." We use them as an excuse to cast people away rather than to draw people in; as a reason to hate rather than to love; to offer judgement rather than grace. I don't believe that was ever what God intended. God intended these ten commandments - a number than can be easily counted on the fingers of both hands and that can be easily remembered - as a gift to the people and not as a threat. They remind God's people of their covenant with God, of their identity as the people of God, of their commitment to God - and maybe even more importantly, of God's commitment to them. The commandments lay a foundation by which the people can pursue a right relationship with God by living in right relationship with one another.

     As Christians, we think of ourselves as a people defined by grace and not by law. And that's proper. Jesus was, after all, the grace of God who came into the world. So we are not to be slavishly legalistic, trying to outdo each other with obedience to rules and thinking ourselves better than those who don't follow the commandments as well as we do. That's the antithesis of what God wanted. I have a t-shirt that was given to me as a gift by a friend. It says on the front "God didn't call them the ten suggestions." That's true enough - but God also didn't call them the "Ten Commandments." God spoke words to the people, and in those words the people gained insight into what God wanted of them. And, centuries later, Jesus - who understood the nature of the law and the commandments - summarized them as love. Love for God and love for neighbours, he said. That's really all you need to know. Not the details - but the principle; not slavish obedience to a set of rules God had carved in stone and a threat to punish those who broke them, but humble gratitude for a relationship that God established with those God loved and a promise of grace to us all. Sarah Koontz - who describes herself as a Christian storyteller - sums this up so well: "God's law is not restrictive, it is restorative; God's law is not antiquated, it is innovative; God's law is not perplexing, it is straightforward." I might add to what she wrote that God's law is not frightening, it is loving; and God's law was not given with clenched fists waiting to strike out, but with open arms welcoming us to enter in.

     Last week, we celebrated Holy Communion, and it occurred to me that God's invitation to share in the covenant symbolized by the open table is very similar to God's invitation to share in the covenant symbolized by the commandments, in that both are gifts of God given for the people of God. Jesus doesn't demand obedience as a precondition to enter into the new covenant; neither did God demand obedience as a precondition to enter into the old covenant. Obedience is not a condition for being a part of the covenant; it's a response to being a part of the covenant. We're not on some sort of waiting list, hoping to be let in to the covenant - we're already in. And that's a huge difference.

     God's law is a gift. God's law is not something we should be worried and fearful about breaking - it's something we should be giving thanks for because it's the sign that God has accepted us and welcomed us. God isn't going to use the law to hurt us as the famus movie depicts when the tablets explode among the people. God will use the law to constantly work at transforming us into what the law asks for: as Jesus said - that we would be people of love, who offer that love without reservation or condition to all whom we encounter.

   

A Thought For The Week Of October 2, 2017

"We thought we would have to serve out our death sentences right then and there. As a result, we realized that we could no longer rely on ourselves and that we must trust solely in God, who possesses the power to raise the dead." (2 Corinthians 1:9, The Voice) Why rely on God? It sounds like a simple enough question for a person of faith to answer, but of course a person of faith is just a person, and like all people, those of faith are subject to doubt and temptation and one of the greatest of all temptations is to create our own gods - and even to start to see ourselves as gods (although we may not actually say that.) We want to be self-reliant; we want to believe that we can handle pretty much anything that life might throw at us and that we don't need any help - not even from God. We want to be independent, rather than to ackowledge our ultimate dependence on God. And, yes, people of faith are as guilty of any of those things as anyone else. So, what's the answer? What snaps us back into reality? As uncomfortable as it may seem - I think it's probably death; or, at least, it's our realization of our own mortality. Once we've faced that reality we're knocked off our pedestals, so to speak. Acknowledging and facing the reality of eventual death is the great equalizer of the human family - we're all going to die and there isn't a blessed thing that any of us can do about that. None of us are any better than anyone else in that regard. Certainly, none of us are gods. So we depend on God whether we want to or not. Why? Because, in the end, God is the only one who can defeat death. Not us. God demonstrated that by the resurrection of Jesus. We cannot rely on ourselves if we're being honest, because we cannot defeat death - the one thing that has power over everyone. Only God can do that. And, as Paul writes, "... we ... rely not on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead." God overcomes all the things that we cannot overcome - even death itself.

October 1 2017 sermon: Reflections On Authority

Give heed to my teaching, O my people, turn your ears to the words of my mouth. I will open my mouth in a parable; I will reveal the hidden meaning of things in the past. What we have heard and known, what our parents have told us, we will not hide from their grandchildren, but declare to the next generation the testimony that you gave to Jacob and the law you appointed in Israel, which you commanded them to teach their children, that the next generation might know them, children yet unborn, and these in turn should arise, and tell their children, that they should put their trust in you, and not forget your great deeds, but keep all your commandments.

(Psalm 78:1-7, Voices United)

When he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching, and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus said to them, “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” And they argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet.” So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.

(Matthew 21:23-27, NRSV)

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     It occurred to me that if this question were to be asked about me, the answer would in fact be quite simple and not all that dramatic. "By what authority are you doing these things?" Well, depending on your perspective I guess you can either thank or blame the former Search Committee and Lakeridge Presbytery, and I suppose that ultimately you could place the responsibility on Toronto Conference for ordaining me back in 1994 or Emmanuel College for giving me the necessary degree. The point is that there's a clearly delineated path that leads to me being here today, with the right to actually share my thoughts with you. I didn't just walk in off the street and commandeer the pulpit, and if I had you might not have welcomed me with open arms! What I'm saying is that I have very little authority of my own. What authority I have is a derived authority that comes from those who for whatever reason decided that I was worthy of being blessed with that authority. But when it's applied to Jesus the question becomes either more complicated or more straightforward - and it's a question that's often been applied to Jesus, and never moreso than during his own ministry. Jesus' constant challenging of tradition often led him into conflict with the religious leaders who didn't like him upsetting their apple cart. What authority did Jesus have to challenge the passed down traditions of those who had spent a lifetime studying and teaching God's Word to others? What authority did he have to suggest that there might be a different way of relating to God? That question - and the broader question of what authority any of us have to share faith with others and to teach others about God - is at the heart of the Gospel passage today.

     A lot of people possess credentials, but they don't necessarily feel comfortable claiming the authority that goes along with the credentials. Writing in the American Journal of Critical Care, registered nurse Kathleen Dracup wrote the following, describing the experience of a young nurse only six months into her nursing career:

Every day, she woke up with a sense of dread. Driving to the hospital, she would feel queasy as she began to think about the hours ahead. Would she be able to complete everything that needed to be done during her long shift? Would she have the knowledge and judgment she needed? Her mind would race through several potential disaster scenarios; she wondered if today would be the day that she might harm a patient, perhaps fatally. Terror was never far away. The drive home was not any better. It usually involved a review of the mistakes caught just in time - the near misses. She reviewed diagnoses that she had felt uncertain about, medications she had looked up but already forgotten, and technology that had baffled her. She reviewed conversations, some with colleagues and some with family members, and wished she had said something different, or just had more time to listen and to consider what she was saying. It was an excruciating time in her new career as a nurse.

     Here was a woman who possessed all the credentials necessary to give her authority, but she didn't feel worthy to claim the authority. The very idea of authority frightened her. In the light of this Gospel passage, I wondered what we could learn about authority from Jesus - and whether we have the authority to act on his behalf and in his name in the world around us. Many Christians don't want to claim that authority. Many prefer to leave it to others, because surely there must be someone who knows more or who's more eloquent or who's better trained. My goodness - even Moses raised those excuses when God called him to exercise authority, so it's not surprising that many of us still shy away from responding to God's call. Authority frightens most of us. We're pretty good at criticizing those with authority, but we really don't want to have their authority. We love to criticize our politicians, but how many of us actually want to run for office? Teachers are often criticized - mostly by people who'd run as fast as they could from having to stand in front of 30 kids and actually have to teach them! It seems to me that what we learn from Jesus in this passage is that we have to be prepared to claim the  authority that God has granted to each of us in order to fulfil the calling that God has given to each of us: the calling to share the gospel of Christ; to share the love of God; to do the work of Jesus' continuing ministry.

     Jesus claimed his authority and he exercised his authority. He wasn't frightened by it or shy about it. He went about the work God had given him to do. When the chief priests and elders questioned him, he didn't even respond to their question. Instead, he infuriated them (and confused them) even more by answering their question with a question: "I will also ask you one question," he said. In the midst of this exchange I think the point that was being made was that there shouldn't be any question about Jesus' authority. They had seen his ministry. They knew what Jesus had done. They knew he had healed people from sickness and delivered people from demons and even raised people from the dead. "Who gave you this authority?" the chief priests and elders asked Jesus. Well, as we reflect upon the displays of Jesus' authority the answer becomes clear: his authority had come from God. And he had not shied away from it. He had claimed it, embraced it and set to work with it - serving others, and bringing the news of God's love and grace to those who needed it the most.

     Needless to say, we do not possess the same authority as Jesus. But that doesn't exempt us from responsibility; neither does it mean that we don't have the authority necessary to accept God's call in our own lives - a call to take possession of God's teachings to us, to recognize the blessings contained in them and to pass them on faithfully. We do that among ourselves when we celebrate Holy Communion - Paul says in 1 Corinthians that the whole purpose of Holy Communion is to "remember" - to "remember the Lord's death until he comes." But we're also called to share the word and blessings of God beyond our community, because we are the inheritors of God's Word from generations dating back millennia who have come before us and we have both the authority and the responsibility to pass this inheritance on - and, of course, we are called to use our authority wisely and always in the light of the example of Jesus. Ann Bradstreet, in the book "Meditations Divine And Moral," wrote that "authority without wisdom is like a heavy axe without an edge - fitter to bruise than to polish." The authority we possess from God is to be used to heal and not to bruise and to pass on a faith in Jesus that offers wholeness to all the world.

     This is what Psalm 78 was teaching us. We will "declare to the next generation the testimony ..." the Psalm said. That is our testimony about God; our testimony about Jesus. The Psalm tells us and all God's people that both authority and responsibility to teach the faith belongs to each one of us. Left to ourselves, we're often a bundle of weakness and uncertainty, but if we live each day remembering the word of God then we can change lives. So - be filled with the Holy Spirit and empowered by the Living God! God has given us both the ability and the authority to live and speak in such a way that passes the good news of Jesus on to our children, our grandchildren, our neighbours and our friends. Indeed, to all the world!