I've Been Thinking About The New Curriculum

Recently, the Ontario Government has introduced a new curriculum which includes revised sex education teaching. It replaces a curriculum that virtually everyone agrees was out of date, but has become a source of a great deal of controversy. I've watched the debate with some interest. Most of the opposition has come from what would be called the conservative religious movement - and if the new curriculum has accomplished nothing else, it has given conservative Christians and conservative Muslims a point of connection, which has some value I suppose. But what bothers me - based on reports I've seen in the news media, signs I've seen held aloft at protests and postings I've seen made on various social media sites - is that so much of the opposition to the new curriculum seems based on misunderstanding, misinformation or downright deceit. There seems to be an "ends justifies the means" approach being taken. "I'll say anything - no matter how much it stretches the truth - to derail this." From a Christian perspective that bothers me. Honesty and truth should be at the heart of what people of faith stand for. That has been discarded by too many people in this debate.

I admit that I have mixed feelings about the curriculum. Most of the content I have no problem with, but I concede that it's imperfect and needs some tweaking. There are some legitimate concerns being raised about the age appropriateness of certain topics that are introduced in certain grades - although I'm not sure I understand the concern about teaching young children the proper names for body parts. (Should schools also dispense with singing "head and shoulders, knees and toes"?) But that really is tweaking. It doesn't require throwing the whole thing out, nor does it really seem to justify the rabid anti-curriculum protests that have been spawned. Make no mistake - I support people's right to protest, and I support people using their democratic right to try to get the government to change course. But such attempts should be based on honesty - on serious criticial evaluation of the curriculum, not on knee jerk reactions based on questionable interpretations.

I've read the curriculum, and as I said I've seen the basis of at least some of the protests. Here are just a few observations of where the protests seem unfounded:

Opponents of the curriculum have claimed that it encourages children to consent to sex. It doesn't. It teaches the concept of consent, so that they will know that it's wrong for anyone to touch them sexually without their consent, even if the person is in a position of authority: pastor, priest, teacher, police officer, parent - anyone else. If you don't give consent to be touched, then you shouldn't be touched. I think children should be taught this from a very young age.

Opponents of the curriculum have claimed that it teaches and encourages masturbation. It doesn't. It merely points out that masturbation is normal activity.

Opponents of the curriculum have claimed that the new curriculum encourages anal intercourse. It doesn't. It includes anal intercourse in a section dealing with STDs and it actually points out that abstention from all sexual contact is the only way to avoid STDs. It's mentioned, I assume, because I have read over the years that some teenagers engage in oral/anal intercourse in order to avoid pregnancy, but not thinking of the risk of STDs.

Opponents of the curriculum claim that it "promotes" or offers graphic information about homosexuality. In fact, it teaches respect for those who come from same sex families or who question their own sexual orientation. I should think that being respectful of those who are different is in keeping with the example of Christ.

Opponents of the curriculum claim that it was designed by a pedophile. While Ben Levin was the Deputy Minister of Education for part of the time that the curriculum was under development (and he left office in 2009, before it was completed), the reality is that the Deputy Minister would not be directly involved in such work. He wasn't sitting at his desk writing the curriculum. There were literally thousands of people involved in the work. Levin would have been one very minor voice with lots of eyes looking at it as it was developed.

Opponents of the curriculum claim that parents were given no input into the development of the curriculum. In fact, each school in Ontario has a school parent council, and every school parent council was encouraged to offer input.

Opponents of the new curriculum claim that it takes away the right of parents to be the ones who teach their children about sex. In fact, parents have the right to opt their children out if they so desire. And the curriculum encourages children to seek out guidance from parents, doctors, religious leaders, etc.

In general, there's all sorts of misinformation about the ages at which concepts will be introduced, and there's the continuing barely disguised smear about "Ontario's lesbian premier" - which is trying to fear monger among the religious right: "the gays are coming to get your kids." Interesting that in the previous dispute and protests over the curriculum, when Dalton McGuinty was premier, no one complained about "Ontario's straight premier."

As I said, I fully support the right of parents or anyone else to protest the new curriculum, and there are aspects of it that could be improved and should be tweaked. But continuing to base the protests on groundless accusations serves no productive purpose, and - speaking from a Christian perspective - gives no honour or glory to Christ.

May 10 2015 sermon - Salvation Without Limits

O sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things. His right hand and his holy arm have gotten him victory. The Lord has made known his victory; he has revealed his vindication in the sight of the nations. He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness to the house of Israel. All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God. Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises. Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre, with the lyre and the sound of melody. With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord. Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who live in it. Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joy at the presence of the Lord, for he is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity.

(Psalm 98:1-9)

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     I truly dislike hyphens - with a passion. Yes - hyphens. Sometimes known as dashes. That little line that gets inserted between two words. Sometimes they serve a purpose, I suppose - but most of the time they just irritate me, and I really, really dislike them. Why, you may ask, do I dislike hyphens so much? Well, it’s because by their very nature hyphens place all the attention on the adjective rather than on the noun - but shouldn’t the noun really be the foundation of what it is that’s being talked about? One example of what I dislike about hyphens is illustrated by nationality. The hyphenated nationality seems to me to be an opportunity to identify yourself by your past rather than by your present. I’m a Canadian. That’s how I self-identify in terms of nationality. On those census forms you get every few years when you’re asked to identify your ethnic origin, and there are all sorts of options given, I’m one of those radicals who simply checks "Canadian." I have nothing against people being proud of their heritage, but as far as I’m concerned a Canadian is a Canadian. But hyphenated Canadianism is all the rage. So, a lot of people don’t call themselves Canadian. They’re English-Canadian, or French-Canadian. Or Polish-Canadian, or Ukrainian-Canadian, or Indo-Canadian, or Chinese-Canadian, or African-Canadian, or Italian-Canadian. The list goes on. To me, the emphasis seems to be on the adjective rather than the noun - but what unites us as a nation should be the fact that we’re Canadian first. At least as far as I’m concerned.

     What really bothers me is that the same thing happens within the church. We should all be Christians. That should be the fundamental identity we have - Christian; follower of Christ; disciple of Jesus. But we choose to differentiate ourselves and divide ourselves up. Denominations are a problem in that regard, but I’m thinking of something that’s become all the rage in recent decades. More and more, it’s not even denominationalism that’s separating Christians. Now we have hyphenated Christianity. You almost have to use an adjective to identify yourself. Now we have liberal-Christians and conservative-Christians. We have evangelical-Christians and fundamentalist-Christians. We have charismatic-Christians and mainline-Christians. We have progressive-Christians and even post-theistic-Christians (and that last one is double hyphenated!) We put the emphasis on the adjective to define what we believe rather than on the noun. And by doing so, it’s no longer Christ who holds us together as his one body - it becomes what we choose to believe about Christ, or how we choose to follow Christ, or in what manner we choose to worship Christ that becomes the key. For me - no. Christ is quite sufficient as the centre of who and what I am. I’m a Christian. I reject the labels. I reject the adjectives. The noun is sufficient. I’ll be simply a disciple of Jesus - and let others make of that what they will.

     Why bring all this up today? What does it have to do with the Psalm we just read? How does it tie in with a Sunday on which we celebrate the idea of family, reflected in Mother’s Day, or Christian Family Sunday as we call it in the church? Well, the Psalm is about the unity of God’s people, and it’s about where the centre of that unity was found - in God; in God’s works and in God’s nature. It was God who was the defining element in the identity of Israel as the people of God. Israel was the people of God because Israel was the people of God. It was that simple. It’s not that the community wasn’t diverse - it was that neither the community nor the individual members of the community decided to be the people of God. They were the people of God because God made them the people of God. And so Psalm 98 becomes a celebration of God and of God’s works among his people. The people of God didn’t always agree - they fought a civil war against each other - but in the end, regardless of the nature of the disagreements or the passion that marked them, they were the people of God. For them, this identity as the people of God was their salvation. They would not let it go. They would disagree with and fight and sometimes, tragically, even kill one another. I’m not justifying any of that, nor do I think God approved of it, but in the end, for all that, they were collectively the people of God. It’s something, unfortunately, that’s been lost in modern-day Christianity, which has come to be plagued with labels and hyphens, with every group thinking that they have the truth to themselves, and that to be a "real" Christian you have to agree with them.

     The Psalm says that "all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God." Salvation means basically being saved from the natural consequences of our actions. It doesn’t mean being let off the hook and given a free pass, but it does mean that we can live without fear and put our faith to work as best we can. The people of God in the psalmist’s day understood that. They weren’t always in agreement on everything - but they were the people of God; they lived as the people of God; they were known as the people of God - and "all the ends of the earth" saw a difference in them because they were the people of God.

     "All the ends of the earth." That’s where we make the linkage to Jesus and to the children of God who are the Christian family today. Jesus came for the world. Jesus came to ensure that the salvation of God would, indeed, be seen by "all the ends of the earth." Jesus came to give his followers a common identity as a family, as children of God and as brothers and sisters to one another. Christians who claim that they have all the answers and that everyone else better do things their way and believe everything they believe (or else!) have missed the point. Our only identity as Christians is in Christ. As long as we’re in Christ all other things are secondary at best. And that can’t be limited to any one group or anyone people. It does extend to "all the ends of the earth." It is, indeed, salvation without limit!

May 3 2015 sermon - The Fruit Of A Christian Vine

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples."

(John 15:1-8)

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     It’s funny how we have a tendency to look for the negative. I alluded to that a little bit last week when I was reflecting on the need for Christian love to be actively controlling us, part of which means that we have to try to be positive and encouraging rather than negative and condemning. And then I read our passage for today and found myself thinking about the negative. I discovered - somewhat uncomfortably - that the first thing I took from this passage was a renewed appreciation of where the traditional image of hell for non-believers came from. That’s what leaped out at me. Seriously. If we take this "literally" then at least in part we do see the fiery furnace of hell don’t we. Separate from Jesus and be burned. Of course the problem with that is that we can’t take the words literally because Jesus isn’t a vine and we aren’t the branches. It’s an image Jesus is using that’s trying to make a point.

     This image Jesus used is addressed to those who call themselves believers. The point seems to be that if you’re a believer (if you’re a part of the Christian community) who isn’t really connected with Jesus then you really can’t be a productive member of the community. Some might argue that point, but I still see it as the point. It’s not a threat of burning in hell - it’s more of a warning that without Jesus you simply have no logical role in the Christian community that's founded on Jesus. It's a plea for those who want to be disciples of Jesus to stay close to Jesus. But then I realized that there’s an even more important image in these words of Jesus. There’s the image of bearing fruit.

     For Jesus, the key to what he was saying in this exchange with his disciples revolves around two things. First, his disciples are to remain in him. He says that seven times in these eight verses (and once he speaks of the consequences of not remaining in him.) But then he goes on to explain why that's so important. Then he focusses on bearing fruit. That image appears seven times in the passage. So, we’re the branches attached to the vine that is Jesus and we’re supposed to bear fruit. The question is what kind of fruit? If you're an apple tree and you produce cherries there's a problem. There's nothing wrong with cherries but apple trees have to produce apples or they have no real purpose. So, what's the fruit of the Christian vine?

     I think traditionally we’ve understood that in evangelistic terms. I’ve heard many preachers look at this image in that way - so that the "fruit" are the converts you create; the folks you bring into the Kingdom. If you’re not converting people, there’s something wrong with you. But is that really productive fruit? I know people who've interpreted the image that way and it seems to become prideful; it gets into the notches on the belt mentality - you keep track of how many you’ve "brought to the Lord," so to speak. Which, of course, seems to give a lot of credit to us rather than the Holy Spirit for people’s faith. "Look at me - I’ve led "X" number of people to Christ. Yay for me!" I don't think that's what Jesus meant by fruit.

     It’s probably better to understand fruit from Paul’s perspective in Galatians. He was producing a lot of converts in the Gentile world - or at least his ministry was. But those converts weren’t "fruit" to him. They were the result of the Holy Spirit working in the hearts of those who heard the message and saw it being lived out and came to understand the difference it made. Now there's the key to understanding Jesus' words! You’ve heard Galatians 5:22: "the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." To Paul, the "fruit" was not the results of our labours, it was how we lived and the qualities we displayed. It seems to me that’s how we should read these words of Jesus. Not as a threat that if we don’t convert enough people we’re going to be punished for not doing it or they’re going to be punished for not listening to us but as a reminder that if we don’t allow ourselves to be transformed more into the likeness of Jesus - displaying these qualities Paul wrote about and that Jesus lived out - then we’re not being productive members of the church; something's gone wrong and we're not properly connected to the vine.

     The fruit is the way we live and the qualities we show in our daily lives. Converting people says nothing about us. The biggest hypocrites around can put on a good show and result in people being "converted." The question is whether we’re showing fruit in our own life. Are we living our faith in such a way that we’re growing in holiness? Not by external measures - how many are we converting - but by internal measures - are we more able day by day to be a reflection of Jesus to those we encounter? Matthew Henry wrote that "from a vine we look for grapes, and from a Christian we look for a Christian temper, disposition, and life."

      I’m interested in the idea that healthy branches will bear much fruit and we are branches growing from the vine that is Jesus. The great theologian Augustine said that "whatever is cut off cannot live apart from the vine." That’s a way of saying that we can’t live as Christians unless we’re truly open to Jesus, connected to Jesus and even clinging to Jesus. Jesus promises never to let us go; we need to make the same promise to him. It’s easy to get fixated on the negative ways of interpreting this passage - the burning imagery that brings hell to mind, or the idea that we have to be converting people day after day if we’re going to show the fruits of our faith. It’s easy to read this passage as one of judgment and threat, but it’s important to remember that Jesus didn’t say "abide in me or else." Jesus said "abide in me as I abide in you." That’s more than good advice and it’s more than an invitation. That’s a promise - that no matter what happens, Jesus will be with us; that no matter what happens, Jesus will hold onto us; that no matter what happens, God in Jesus will bring all things to a good end. With Jesus in us, our lives and our way of life changes so that we become more and more an image of him. That new life we lead is the fruit of a Christian vine.

April 26 2015 sermon - Love As A Verb

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth. This is how we know that we belong to the truth and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence: If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. Dear friends, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God and receive from him anything we ask, because we keep his commands and do what pleases him. And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us. The one who keeps God’s commands lives in him, and he in them. And this is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us.

(1 John 3:16-24)

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     "Love" is a word that can have an ambiguous ring to it. What exactly do we mean when we say that we "love" someone? Just before their marriage, Prince Charles and Diana Spencer were being interviewed by the BBC. They seemed the archetype of a happy couple in "love". But in answer to one question, Charles gave an answer that should have given Diana reason to think about what the future held. He was asked the simple question, "how do you like being in love?" It would seem simple, wouldn't it? What's the answer? You would expect "It's marvellous," or, "it's better than anything I could have imagined." But that wasn't his answer. "How do you like being in love?" With a rather enigmatic smile, Charles replied simply, "what is love?" That was it; that was the answer. It wasn't a rhetorical question - Charles literally had no answer for it. Instead of words that would cause his soon to be bride to swoon, Charles suggested that he didn't really know what love was! The answer seems almost prophetic now, with the benefit of hindsight. Their marriage broke up, of course. And I wonder - if Christians were asked what the hallmark of our faith is, many would answer "love." But do we know what that word truly means? Our question might well be "what is Christian love?" And if we're not sure, then perhaps our faith is as shaky as that royal marriage proved to be.

     The word "love" is one of those English words that can be either a noun or a verb. We can show "love" - a noun; or we can "love" someone – a verb. Perhaps to have even a basic understanding of Christian "love" we need to look at both aspects of "love," and when we do that I believe it becomes clear that for Christians "love" must be primarily seen as a verb.

     Why would I suggest that "love" as a noun is problematic? Well, when we start to think of "love" as a noun, "love" becomes reduced to the status of a thing. Drawing on my elementary school education, I know that a noun is a "person, place or thing." So "love" as a noun is a thing. That turns "love" into something like a commodity; it's something that we possess and we treat it as such. When "love" is a commodity it becomes something that we hold onto; something that we offer only sparingly. I read once of a love letter that a young man had sent to his girlfriend. It read: "Darling, I'd climb the highest mountain; sail the wildest ocean; cross the hottest desert just to see you. P.S. - I'll be over Saturday night if it doesn't rain." That's someone who understands "love" as a noun. For all the expressions of "love" in the letter, his "love" for his girlfriend had limits attached. No rain! His love for his girlfriend could only be shown if the conditions were acceptable to him. So "love" as a noun has its limits, and also its restrictions: it becomes something that we offer only to those who we, using our own standards of judgment, decide are worthy of receiving this valuable thing that we possess and control, and the end result is that we usually offer our "love" with strings attached. We "love" in the expectation that we're going to get something in return; usually that we're going to be loved in return by the one to whom we give our "love." That's "love" as a noun.

     But is "love" really something to be looked on as little more than a part of a barter system? As a noun, that's essentially what it is; it becomes a commodity to be traded in exchange for something else. We generally offer our "love" to those whom we expect will "love" us in return. In that sense, "love" as a noun is inherently selfish. But "love" as a verb puts a whole new spin on the concept. "Love" as a verb becomes an action – that’s elementary education there again, folks (Miss Hadden did a great job with me in Grade 3!) As an action, "love" is simply naturally offered; it’s something that we freely give with no strings attached. "Love" as a verb is offered without the expectation of anything being received in return. When "love" becomes an action it can be given freely and generously. "Love" as a verb is the opposite of "love" as a noun; it is inherently selfless. It seeks to give and not to receive.

     This is the beauty of "love" as a verb. "Love" as a verb changes the whole equation. "Love" becomes not just a commodity we possess and scatter only selectively. As a verb, "love" is no longer something we can control; instead, as a verb "love" becomes something that takes control of us. As a verb, "love" pours forth from us. We display "love" to all, regardless of whether our human notions of morality tell us that the object of our "love" is deserving. "Love" as a verb becomes that which moves us; it becomes the motivating force and power of our lives. This, I would suggest, is the "love" that properly motivates the Christian faith.

     This is how Jesus understood "love." Jesus' concern was always for the other. Jesus' "love" was at all times selfless, and, in the end, self-sacrificing. Jesus' "love" went out without hesitation to those whom society had deemed to be unworthy of "love. His "love" knew no bounds. We think of it most powerfully in connection with Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, but Jesus’ entire life was motivated by love, and even though we’re not called to lay down our lives for the faith, the cross remains the motivating symbol of our "love." 1 John 3:16 defines "love" from a Christian perspective as a verb, and it does so in the context of the cross: "this is how we know what love is," John wrote. "Jesus Christ laid down his life for us." The cross is Jesus emptying himself for us and Jesus sacrificing himself for us, and it is the ultimate symbol of Christian "love." In fact, I would go so far as to say that Christian "love" cannot be defined or understood apart from the cross. Christian "love" means the giving of one's self for the sake of the other: fully and willingly, and the truth of our message is shown by how well we put our words about "love" into action. Some only speak of "love" but rarely show it. They are those of 1 John 3:18; those who "love with words or tongue." These are people for whom "love" is a noun. It is a thing to talk about, but not to act upon. These are people who claim to be followers of Christ but who show love sparingly, only to those they deem worthy. They tear others down rather than building them up; they freely criticize but rarely encourage. They speak about love, but they don’t show it too often - but John says that "love" must be shown "with actions and in truth." The very truth of our message is defined by how well we put our words about "love" as a noun into action as "love" as a verb. John Stott wrote that "... the self-sacrifice of Christ is not just a revelation of love to be admired; it is an example [of love] to [be copied.]" And while Christ demonstrates his "love" most fully on the cross, we don't have to go that far – thankfully! Jesus does not ask us to die for him, but to lay down our lives for him, and the two are not the same.

     The theologian C.H. Dodd defined "love" as "the willingness to surrender that which has value for our own life, to enrich the life of another." That, I think, is a helpful definition of "love" as a verb. May we put the words of Jesus into action; may we all see "love" as a verb; may "love" be the motivating force in all of our lives.

April 19 2015 sermon: What's So Special About Thomas?

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, "Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you." And with that he breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven." Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord!" But he said to them, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe." A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe." Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!" Then Jesus told him, "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.

(John 20:19-31)

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     It strikes me that at least in some respects we have a harder time than Jesus’ original disciples, whose doubts and fears could be overcome by actual encounters with the risen Jesus. We, on the other hand, have to live and believe simply by faith. We may sense the presence of Jesus, but we don’t experience it in the same way the first disciples did. Which makes this passage interesting to me. For those first disciples, it was Sunday night. The empty tomb was discovered perhaps 12 hours earlier. They have the testimony of at least Mary Magdalene, who had seen the risen Jesus, and yet still they’re huddled in a room, afraid of the world around them. To be honest that sounds like a lot of Christians today. We know the story of the resurrection. Perhaps we believe it - but there are some doubts now and then and those doubts make it a bit frightening to think of sharing it. So we cloister behind the walls of our churches in safety, but we don’t take our faith out in public very much. Just like those early disciples, we keep our faith hidden away. We buy into the idea that religion is a private thing. Publicly proclaiming the resurrection of Jesus, after all, leaves you with a good chance of being dismissed as naive at best and delusional at worst.

     I wonder what those first disciples believed? As they gathered together, sheltered from the outside world, did they believe at that moment that Jesus had been raised? Or was it all just a mystery to them? A strange story? Whatever they believed they didn’t have the courage to do anything about it, until Jesus appeared and offered them peace - and the chance to see his hands and his side. Ahhh. Proof! That’s the difference 2000 years later. We don’t get the proof. We just have to believe. "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." That’s us. And if we can get to the point of believing without seeing, then surely Jesus still gives us peace - and peace is the power that allows us to move forward in faith, bearing witness to what we believe. The key to being a disciple of Jesus is to have the peace to take our belief out of the safety of a closed room and face the possible hostility of the world around us.

     In some ways, things haven’t really changed all that much and we really aren’t all that much different than Jesus’ first disciples - which is both troubling and hopeful. They were very limited, very weak and very sinful people - but empowered by the Holy Spirit they accepted the commission of Jesus and went into the world to proclaim what they believed. Are we willing to do the same? Do we have the peace to live our faith openly and honestly and with integrity? A challenge to be sure, but surely it’s the goal of every person who claims to be a follower of Jesus. But it’s not easy. There’s a lot of reason to doubt, and there’s a lot of people who want to raise doubt in our minds. Robin Wright - a scholar at the United States Institute for Peace, wrote that radical atheists today - who are growing in numbers - are determined "to make it not just uncool to believe, but cool to ridicule believers." And ridicule is maybe the worst thing a person can have to face. It makes us question ourselves. So doubt is a powerful force - because when we doubt we doubt not just Jesus and not just our faith; we doubt ourselves and our own strength to be able to handle the jabs that might get thrown at us. Thomas had a lot of doubts - but was it just that he couldn’t believe something so wonderful as the resurrection had happened, or did he doubt his own ability to act as the resurrection would call him to act?

     Thomas is a special man. "What?" you might say. "What’s so special about Thomas?" That occurred to me as I thought about this passage. What’s so special about Thomas? Really. We usually call him Doubting Thomas - and that’s not a compliment. I’m someone who believes that doubt is an essential part of faith - that it’s doubt that pushes us ever deeper into faith, but even though Thomas can be used as an example of that, the story when I think of it still raises that question: what’s so special about Thomas? In a way he got special treatment. He got proof. None of the rest of us get proof when we start to have doubts. The other disciples had the same proof offered to them, but Thomas demanded proof from God. He wanted to touch Jesus’ wounds. Jesus invited him to do that, but the rest of us get told not to put God to the test. So what’s so special about Thomas? Why does he get proof to overcome his doubts while I’m left to struggle with mine?

     Or, maybe, thinking in a historical context, it might not be that Thomas was special. It might just be that his circumstances were different. These disciples, after all, were important. They were the eye witnesses; the leaders of the movement. With one (Judas Iscariot) already gone, maybe Jesus couldn’t afford to lose another. So a concession gets made - "you need proof? I’ll give you proof!" And, of course, I’m always struck in the story by the fact that in the end Thomas didn’t actually need the proof. He didn’t touch Jesus’ wounds. The encounter with the risen Jesus was enough.

     So far it’s been enough for us as well. We haven’t needed proof. We’re here, celebrating the risen Jesus in our midst. We’re convinced. I’m sure there are times of doubt for all of us. I’m sure we all fall into sin periodically. I’m sure we don’t always live as we should or as Jesus would want. But we do believe. And, when one reads the whole story, one discovers that Thomas wasn’t actually special because he got proof. The special ones are those that come after that first Christian generation. "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." I haven’t seen Jesus. I’ve encountered him, been confronted by him, been changed by him, been comforted by him and been guided by him - but I’ve never seen him. You could probably all say the same things. Which seems to earn all of us after that first generation a special blessing - not a reward, but that peace Jesus spoke of on that Sunday night so long ago when he appeared to his disciples. The point of the story isn’t that Thomas is either incredibly special for being given proof or particularly bad for having doubts. The point of the story is that doubt is OK, and that Jesus doesn’t abandon us just because we doubt - instead, even in doubt, blessings abound!

April 5, 2015 sermon - The Impact Of Emptiness

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?” But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’” Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

(Mark 16:1-8)

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     I wonder how many times we’ve said “Happy Easter” already this morning? And, for that matter, over the last few days. It’s the secular greeting for the season - approved for use everywhere. But long ago, in the earliest days of our faith, the traditional Easter greeting wasn’t a simple expression of good wishes - it was an assurance of conviction. Christians would greet one another with the words “Christ is risen!” And the reply would be “He is risen, indeed!” Let’s try it now.

Christ is risen!

(He is risen, indeed!)

     This morning we read Mark’s account of the early hours of the first Easter morning. Mark's Gospel - as it often does - gives us the barebones outline of the story, but nothing more. It's that way throughout the Gospel of Mark, so I suppose there's no reason to think that Mark would treat the Easter story any differently. What we know from Mark's account of the first Easter morning is that a few women went to a tomb to anoint the dead body of Jesus, they encountered something that they could neither explain nor understand, and their initial reaction was to be bewildered and frightened. Other Gospel writers filled in some details, but those are the barebones, with a lot being left to the imagination of the reader of Mark's Gospel. But Mark's Gospel itself is largely empty of details about resurrection morning, which - the more I thought about it - seemed appropriate to the occasion. All we really know is that an empty tomb was discovered - and that discovery set off a course of events that would change lives and the world, and that still is changing lives and the world. All because of an empty tomb.

     We don't often connect Easter with emptiness, do we. Our culture has turned it into something to which the word "emptiness" seems quite foreign. Like Christmas, western culture has taken Easter and in many ways left it spiritually powerless. I suspect that for many people, when they awoke this morning their first thought was about chocolate, or maybe the Easter ham for dinner, or perhaps an Easter egg hunt. And all that's good fun and I don't condemn it or criticize those who enjoy it. But it misses the spirit of the original Easter. We think of Easter today as a simply joyful event, with (if you're a Christian, and you're able to set aside the distractions) the resurrection of Jesus being the central event. But I started to have a different perspective. What if we were to go back two thousand years. What if we were to put ourselves into the heads of the first disciples? What were they feeling; what were they thinking? I suspect that the joy we associate with Easter was slow to develop. In fact, as that first Easter dawned, I suspect that overwhelmingly what those first disciples felt was sheer and utter emptiness.” Morning dawned, but they were still numb from the events of the last few days, still paralyzed by the image of Jesus - beaten and bruised and bloodied - hanging dead on a cross. They were drained; they were empty. They were waiting to be filled. But with what?

     In their emptiness, they were filled first with despair as they lamented that "it happened." In the stark reality of that first early Easter morning, the disciples must have been stricken with the memory of Jesus' words - that he would go to Jerusalem, be betrayed and arrested and beaten and crucified. At the foot of the cross on Friday, they must have thought "it happened." On the lonely Sabbath Saturday, confronting the absence of Jesus, they must have thought "it happened." In those early morning hours on Sunday, heading for a tomb, the women must have thought "it happened." It really happened. As hard as it was to believe after all they had been through together, it had happened. Jesus was gone. "It happened." Confronted by the empty tomb, despair filled their own emptiness.

     But despair fell away before the reality of the emptiness of the tomb, and it was replaced with confusion. Suddenly, “It happened” became “what happened?” Expecting to find a dead body, the women found - nothing. Racing after them, Peter and John found only folded grave clothes. It was bizarre, to say the least. Bewildering. Mystifying. How many more words can we think of to try to get into the heads of those who made the discovery. Mary Magdalene assumed the body had been taken away by someone. The scene among the disciples must have been mass confusion at this point, and perhaps a little bit of fear. Now, confronted by the empty tomb, it was confusion and uncertainty that filled their own emptiness.

     But it would fall away as well, and before the reality of the empty tomb the question “what happened” gave way to the sudden realization that “something happened.” They may not yet have fully realized what it was, but there must have been a growing realization in their hearts and in their souls that this was more than just a mysteriously empty tomb. Too much had happened over the course of Jesus’ ministry, and the disciples had seen too many things. It couldn’t just end with his body disappearing. Something more was going on; something had happened. Confusion was giving way to amazement. Something unbelievable and inexplicable had happened. You can imagine puzzled and fearful looks on the faces of the disciples suddenly becoming thoughtful looks as they contemplated this mystery they were confronted with. Now, confronted by the empty tomb, it was amazement that filled their own emptiness.

     But there was one more step that had to be taken. Amazement would finally give way to assurance. The realization that “something happened” finally gave way to the certainty that “that happened.” Jesus had told them that that he would go to Jerusalem, be betrayed and arrested and beaten and crucified, but now, perhaps, they finally remembered. His words hadn’t ended that way. He had promised that his life wouldn’t end with being crucified. He had made them a promise: three days later he would rise again. They remembered. Finally, confronted by the empty tomb, their own emptiness was filled with assurance - the absolute conviction that what Jesus had promised them would happen had actually happened. He had risen! He was still with them! Death had not defeated him.

     Still today, we don’t know exactly what happened. The Gospels don’t describe the resurrection to us. What they describe is an empty tomb, and the growing assurance and conviction of the disciples that death had not defeated Jesus. What they describe is the certainty of the disciples that he was still with them in some real and tangible way - not just in their memories, but as a part of their lives and as their guiding force. That’s the heart and soul of the Christian faith. Jesus lives! Death did not hold him! Nothing could hold him! Death will not hold us! Nothing can hold us! The story tells us that no matter how bad or tough or difficult or downright awful our circumstances at any given time might be - we will not be crushed, we will not be defeated, and we will always triumph, because Jesus has triumphed.  So, join with me one more time in the traditional Easter greeting exchanged among Christian disciples:

Christ is risen! 

(He is risen, indeed!)

April 3 2015 (Good Friday) sermon - The Passion Play

Then Jesus told them, “This very night you will all fall away on account of me, for it is written: “‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’ But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.” Peter replied, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.” “Truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” But Peter declared, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the other disciples said the same. Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.” Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.” When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing. Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour has come, and the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. Rise! Let us go! Here comes my betrayer!” While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived. With him was a large crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and the elders of the people. Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The one I kiss is the man; arrest him.” Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed him. Jesus replied, “Do what you came for, friend.” Then the men stepped forward, seized Jesus and arrested him. With that, one of Jesus’ companions reached for his sword, drew it out and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his ear.  “Put your sword back in its place,” Jesus said to him, “for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels? But how then would the Scriptures be fulfilled that say it must happen in this way?” In that hour Jesus said to the crowd, “Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come out with swords and clubs to capture me? Every day I sat in the temple courts teaching, and you did not arrest me. But this has all taken place that the writings of the prophets might be fulfilled.” Then all the disciples deserted him and fled. Those who had arrested Jesus took him to Caiaphas the high priest, where the teachers of the law and the elders had assembled. But Peter followed him at a distance, right up to the courtyard of the high priest. He entered and sat down with the guards to see the outcome. The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for false evidence against Jesus so that they could put him to death. But they did not find any, though many false witnesses came forward. Finally two came forward and declared, “This fellow said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.’” Then the high priest stood up and said to Jesus, “Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?” But Jesus remained silent. The high priest said to him, “I charge you under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.” “You have said so,” Jesus replied. “But I say to all of you: From now on you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.” Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, “He has spoken blasphemy! Why do we need any more witnesses? Look, now you have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?” “He is worthy of death,” they answered. Then they spit in his face and struck him with their fists. Others slapped him and said, “Prophesy to us, Messiah. Who hit you?” Now Peter was sitting out in the courtyard, and a servant girl came to him. “You also were with Jesus of Galilee,” she said. But he denied it before them all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. Then he went out to the gateway, where another servant girl saw him and said to the people there, “This fellow was with Jesus of Nazareth.” He denied it again, with an oath: “I don’t know the man!” After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away.” Then he began to call down curses, and he swore to them, “I don’t know the man!” Immediately a rooster crowed. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: “Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly. Early in the morning, all the chief priests and the elders of the people made their plans how to have Jesus executed. So they bound him, led him away and handed him over to Pilate the governor. When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. “I have sinned,” he said, “for I have betrayed innocent blood.” “What is that to us?” they replied. “That’s your responsibility.” So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself. The chief priests picked up the coins and said, “It is against the law to put this into the treasury, since it is blood money.” So they decided to use the money to buy the potter’s field as a burial place for foreigners. That is why it has been called the Field of Blood to this day. Then what was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet was fulfilled: “They took the thirty pieces of silver, the price set on him by the people of Israel, and they used them to buy the potter’s field, as the Lord commanded me.” Meanwhile Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” “You have said so,” Jesus replied.  When he was accused by the chief priests and the elders, he gave no answer. Then Pilate asked him, “Don’t you hear the testimony they are bringing against you?” But Jesus made no reply, not even to a single charge - to the great amazement of the governor. Now it was the governor’s custom at the festival to release a prisoner chosen by the crowd. At that time they had a well-known prisoner whose name was Jesus Barabbas. So when the crowd had gathered, Pilate asked them, “Which one do you want me to release to you: Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” For he knew it was out of self-interest that they had handed Jesus over to him. While Pilate was sitting on the judge’s seat, his wife sent him this message: “Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.” But the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus executed. “Which of the two do you want me to release to you?” asked the governor. “Barabbas,” they answered. “What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” Pilate asked. They all answered, “Crucify him!” “Why? What crime has he committed?” asked Pilate. But they shouted all the louder, “Crucify him!” When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” he said. “It is your responsibility!” All the people answered, “His blood is on us and on our children!” Then he released Barabbas to them. But he had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified. Then the governor’s soldiers took Jesus into the Praetorium and gathered the whole company of soldiers around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand. Then they knelt in front of him and mocked him. “Hail, king of the Jews!” they said. They spit on him, and took the staff and struck him on the head again and again.  After they had mocked him, they took off the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him. As they were going out, they met a man from Cyrene, named Simon, and they forced him to carry the cross. They came to a place called Golgotha (which means “the place of the skull”). There they offered Jesus wine to drink, mixed with gall; but after tasting it, he refused to drink it. When they had crucified him, they divided up his clothes by casting lots. And sitting down, they kept watch over him there. Above his head they placed the written charge against him: this is jesus, the king of the jews. Two rebels were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, “You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God!” In the same way the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders mocked him. “He saved others,” they said, “but he can’t save himself! He’s the king of Israel! Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’” In the same way the rebels who were crucified with him also heaped insults on him. From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). When some of those standing there heard this, they said, “He’s calling Elijah.” Immediately one of them ran and got a sponge. He filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. The rest said, “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to save him.” And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people. When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, “Surely he was the Son of God!” Many women were there, watching from a distance. They had followed Jesus from Galilee to care for his needs. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of Zebedee’s sons.

(Matthew 26:31-27:66)

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    We’ve sung the songs and read the story, and Christ is on the cross. But what do we see when we look at Christ on the cross? We know what a crucifix looks like. Outstretched arms, legs crossed at the ankles, head laid to one side. Even today, in polished wood or gold, the picture is an awful one. But imagine being on that hill, looking at that man on that cross, with Jerusalem behind you and shouting mobs on either side of you. What do you see? A few years ago, Mel Gibson made a movie about the crucifixion: “The Passion Of The Christ.” For all the controversy it stirred, I thought that if you wanted to see a graphic account of what a crucifixion looked like - it was a pretty good portrayal. But I see the crucifixion not so much as a movie, but as a play, moving through various acts, with the cross being the basic set; a play with three scenes if you will - each with a different take on what the cross actually looks like and represents.

    Sometimes the cross is a throne, and the man who hangs upon it is a king - but the cross teaches us about real kingship. This is the king who rode in triumph into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey - a pack animal; a beast of burden. The is the king who the night before had washed his disciples’ feet. From this scene the audience learns that true kingship means to be not a master but a servant. This servant who hangs upon the cross is our King, and the cross is his throne. It’s made of rough wood and not gold; it has no armies to protect it and no territory to rule over. And Jesus the servant king reminds us that in this kingdom things are different. In this kingdom, the meek and the humble are the ones who count. In this kingdom the only way to rule is from the cross - not out of power, but out of weakness. The cross is a reminder to us that the weakness of God is stronger than our strength.

    And sometimes the cross is an altar, with Jesus dying on it as the Passover lamb. Jesus died on the day before the Passover, so had we been there we would have seen fathers and sons striding purposefully toward the temple, and standing around the door that separated the part of the temple that was open to all men from the part of the temple that only the priests could enter. Inside the priests’ court, there was a huge altar, and it would be a busy place that day, with animals being sacrificed, knives flashing and robes stained red with blood. But outside the city was another sacrifice - on the hill, on the middle cross. His side pierced by a spear, his blood draining out. Here is “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” Because of this sacrifice we have no fear. In 1519, Ulrich Zwingli, who started the Reformation in Switzerland, was a pastor in Zurich when the Black Death hit. Zwingli himself caught the disease, but rather than falling into despair he wrote a hymn: “Death is at hand, my senses fail. Lo, Satan strains to catch his prey. I feel his grasp, must I give way? He harms me not; I fear no less for here I lie, beneath thy cross.” As we gaze at the cross of Christ, can we sing of our victory over greed, over prejudice, over despair, over sorrow, over fear - and, yes, over death? We can, because the cross is an altar, and the sacrifice made there has rescued us from all these things.

    And sometimes the cross is a canopy - a simple tent with no walls, under which people are invited to gather to be protected from the elements around them. Jesus is under that canopy, with arms outstretched in welcome to all who approach him. All we need to make a diverse group of people one family is a safe place to gather, and the cross creates that safe place. Long ago, under that cross, stood many people who must have thought that their world had fallen apart and that there was no place of refuge left. What must Mary have felt as she watched her son writhe in agony? How must John - the disciple whom Jesus loved - have wished he could do something to relieve his friend’s suffering. But something special would happen. Jesus would look at them both and say to them “you two are family now. Take care of each other.” Jesus was gone, but form his death came new relationships; a new family. First Presbyterian Church and Central United Church and whoever else is here - you’re family now - because of this cross.

    And the story continues.

As evening approached, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body, and Pilate ordered that it be given to him. Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own new tomb that he had cut out of the rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting there opposite the tomb. The next day, the one after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees went to Pilate. “Sir,” they said, “we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first.” “Take a guard,” Pilate answered. “Go, make the tomb as secure as you know how.” So they went and made the tomb secure by putting a seal on the stone and posting the guard.

    Jesus is off the cross now, and for now we leave him in the tomb. But fear not - a glorious resurrection awaits and new life will come to us all.