June 17 sermon: Father Jesse

Then Samuel left for Ramah, but Saul went up to his home in Gibeah of Saul. Until the day Samuel died, he did not go to see Saul again, though Samuel mourned for him. And the Lord regretted that he had made Saul king over Israel. The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? Fill your horn with oil and be on your way; I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem. I have chosen one of his sons to be king. But Samuel said, “How can I go? If Saul hears about it, he will kill me.” The Lord said, “Take a heifer with you and say, ‘I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.’ Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what to do. You are to anoint for me the one I indicate.” Samuel did what the Lord said. When he arrived at Bethlehem, the elders of the town trembled when they met him. They asked, “Do you come in peace?” Samuel replied, “Yes, in peace; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord. Consecrate yourselves and come to the sacrifice with me.” Then he consecrated Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice. When they arrived, Samuel saw Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed stands here before the Lord.” But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” Then Jesse called Abinadab and had him pass in front of Samuel. But Samuel said, “The Lord has not chosen this one either.” Jesse then had Shammah pass by, but Samuel said, “Nor has the Lord chosen this one.” Jesse had seven of his sons pass before Samuel, but Samuel said to him, “The Lord has not chosen these.” So he asked Jesse, “Are these all the sons you have?” “There is still the youngest,” Jesse answered. “He is tending the sheep.” Samuel said, “Send for him; we will not sit down until he arrives.” So he sent for him and had him brought in. He was glowing with health and had a fine appearance and handsome features. Then the Lord said, “Rise and anoint him; this is the one.” So Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him in the presence of his brothers, and from that day on the Spirit of the Lord came powerfully upon David. Samuel then went to Ramah.

(1 Samuel 15:34-16:13)

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     I’m going to begin today by being a little bit personal. For most of my life Father’s Day meant basically nothing to me. You see, I never knew my father – not even for a day that I can remember. Nor do I have any fond stories that I was told about him that I can hang on to. The truth of the matter is that I do not know – I have no idea – who my father was. Family lore has it that my father abandoned my mother when she was pregnant with me and then died shortly thereafter. No one has really told me any more than that. All families have secrets, I suppose. That’s my biggest family secret. It’s so secret that I don’t even know the whole truth. So when I was growing up whenever there was anything to do with fathers and sons I felt pretty much pushed to the sidelines. I remember that when I was little and learning to skate my mom took me to the rink and helped me tie my skates as tight as she could, when a kind man I had never met came over and said something like “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but his skates need to be tied tighter than that,” and he proceeded to take over for her. I never saw him again but I remember him helping. I was a kid long enough ago that schools still had “father-son” days. Which always left me wondering: “so what am I supposed to do?” Sometimes a friend’s dad would sort of let me latch on for the day, but – you know – it was kind, but it wasn’t the same. It made me a bit of an outsider for a lot of things. And Father’s Day? It was just a Sunday in June to me. It meant school was almost over. Otherwise, it had no meaning. Sometimes I’d be encouraged to buy a card or a gift for an uncle who was a part of my life, but – again – it wasn’t the same. Back in the 1970’s that was a really strange way to grow up, because that was largely an era when “family” was still thought of as mom and dad and 2 kids and a dog. I didn’t even have a dog – never mind a dad! I’m not asking for pity or sympathy. It’s just the way it was. That was my life. It was natural to me. And I was 41 years old before I became a father. That was 41 years of my life with “fatherhood” meaning very little to me. When I became a Christian in my mid-20’s the image of God as “Father” was intriguing. For those who don’t like masculine images for God, it’s just really important for you to understand that for some of us that image of God as “Father” has significance for what it represents and for what it tells us about what a father should be – regardless of how often earthly fathers may fail. And when I became a father – when Lynn and I adopted Hannah – I didn’t say it but I was terrified as we were preparing to travel to China and as we were waiting to receive her. All of a sudden this little girl – this life – was going to be my responsibility! I knew nothing about being a father or about fatherhood. Absolutely nothing. What if I couldn’t do it? That wouldn’t just disappoint me – it would be devastating to her.  What if I destroyed her life? Yes - I had that image of God – but I was painfully aware that I was not God. So I had to do a lot of “on the job learning” so to speak. I’m certainly not perfect by any means, but to my relief I think I’ve done OK. Now, as I said, I’m not trying to make anyone feel sorry for me. I’ve had a pretty darn good life surrounded by people who love me and shown grace by a God who loves me and (regardless of how anyone else feels about the masculine imagery) who is my Father. And probably because of my background biblical stories about fathers intrigue me.

     Our Scripture passage today isn’t really about a father or fatherhood, I suppose – although there is a father in it. Jesse, the father of the future King David, appears in this story, but he isn’t the centre of the story. When we discuss this passage we usually take one of four approaches: why God expresses regret about having chosen Saul as king (didn’t God know how that would turn out?), Samuel’s mistake in assuming that the king would be chosen based on the outward appearance of who looked most impressive, God’s insistence on looking inside a person rather than on their outward appearance, or David’s anointing, which identified him as a future king of Israel. All of those are worthy topics to think about, and as a result Jesse kind of gets lost and doesn’t really get much attention here. In fact, Jesse doesn’t get very much attention anywhere in the Bible. He appears in a couple of other stories in 1 Samuel, there’s a reference to him in Isaiah and then he appears in the New Testament, mentioned as an ancestor of Jesus and that’s about it. He’s David’s father and Jesus’ ancestor and that’s all that seems to matter. In a way he’s not unlike Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus, who appears and then just disappears. But Jesse seemed a relevant figure for us to think about today. It’s Father’s Day, after all – and Jesse was a father. We may not know a lot about him, but it’s worth thinking about him.

     I’ve heard people say that their fathers were their heroes. Maybe that’s true – but I’m not convinced that being a hero is the point of being a father. Jesse doesn’t appear to have been a hero. He appears, he disappears. The point of the story – the point of his role in the entire biblical story - the importance of Jesse – isn’t Jesse himself: it’s Jesse’s legacy. Jesse raised eight sons we’re told, and so impressive were they that it took a while for Samuel to figure out which one was the chosen of God. All of them were apparently possibilities. Jesse had done a good job. He had raised a good family. He didn’t get the glory, but his role was absolutely vital. Without a Jesse there would have been no David – and I’m not just talking biology. Without Jesse’s example and nurture and care there would have been no David able to take up the reigns of being king of Israel, and ultimately no Jesus to take up the reigns of being the King of kings.

     Ken Norton – who at one time was the Heavyweight Champion of the World – once said that “of all the titles I’ve been privileged to have, ‘Dad’ has always been the best.” Perhaps the point of what he’s saying is that – as Jesse’s story makes clear – there are a lot of things a person could do that might bring them fame and glory and prestige and power. Being a father is NOT one of those things. Nor is it supposed to be. Being a father is about setting an example, and it’s about being there for those who need you. Ephesians 6:4 gives some very specific instructions to fathers: “… fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.” You could sum that up by saying that fathers are to treat their children with fairness, with justice, with kindness and with love. That’s what makes the relationship a precious one; that’s why “dad” is what Ken Norton called “the best title.”

     Not everyone here today is a father – just as for most of my life I wasn’t a father. But all of us can learn from the example of a Jesse or the words of Ephesians 6:4 or the feelings of Ken Norton. Whether you’re a father or a mother; a brother or a sister; a friend or a neighbour – as a Christian live in such a way that you show others the “discipline and instruction of the Lord.” Be an example of God’s love and grace to all whom you encounter. You don’t know the legacy that might leave, or how many people that  might touch.

June 3 sermon: From "Me" to "You"

“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. … And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

(Matthew 6:1-6 & 16-18)

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     We all have a survival instinct – and thank goodness for that! If we didn’t none of us would be here today. If we didn’t have a survival instinct we’d walk in front of buses and jump off of tall buildings and do various and sundry other dumb things because we wouldn’t care what the consequences would be. It might very well be the survival instinct of the human race that has (so far at least) prevented us from blowing the planet up with the obscene amount of nuclear weapons we have all over the world. Survival instincts are important. They kick in at a time when the most important thing is for us to think about ourselves and our own well being. That’s not a selfish thing – it’s natural; it’s a part of who we are, and without it humanity probably woudn’t exist today. Even Jesus had a survival instinct. He yearned to live. He displayed that in the Garden of Gethsemane on the night before he died when he begged his Father to “take this cup from me” - in other words, to release him from facing the prospect of his death on a cross. So survival instincts are natural. But sometimes they have to be overcome because there are times when we have to put our focus on others – on the needs around us rather than on the needs within us; times when we have to think of “you” instead of “me.” We see many examples of that as well. Fire fighters and police officers and soldiers often have to overcome their own survival instincts and risk their lives for the sake of a cause or for the sake of someone else. Jesus may have wanted to live, but in the end he submitted himself to the plan of God and he went to that cross. So the survival instinct is natural, but it doesn’t have to control us or dominate our thinking. We can overcome it. In fact, if we really want to follow Jesus and be effective at sharing the gospel, then we have to. We have to make that shift in our priorities from “me” to “you.”

     That’s a real challenge for the church these days. I don’t mean just us – but the church in general. Attendance and finances and just the work involved in keeping a congregation going are becoming big challenges for most churches these days. Sometimes we become a bit myopic and we start to think that these are only problems that we face and that everybody else is doing just fine. It’s a classic case of “the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.” But the truth is that churches are struggling these days. And the temptation because of that is for us to start looking inward and to focus only on taking care of ourselves; only on meeting the budget; only on keeping the doors open. The church’s existence becomes an end in itself, and the call of the church to spread a gospel of life and hope to others gets lost in the shuffle of trying to make sure we survive. I’ve always thought that from a Christian perspective there was a great irony to that. It was, after all, Jesus who said (to paraphrase) that those who try to save their lives will lose their lives, and that those who lose their lives for him would gain true life. Another way of putting it might be to say that struggling for the sake of mere survival is a losers’ game. And I”ve often found it strange that a church that professes faith in a Lord who was raised from the dead is often so terrified of death. In a book called “Searching For Sunday,” the American Christian author Rachel Held Evans wrote that “death is something empires worry about, not something gardeners worry about. It's certainly not something resurrection people worry about.” The church has become so accustomed for centuries to being “empire” - to being the dominant force in society; to possessing power – that many church people have no idea what to do now that the church is increasingly on the margins and has little power. But Evans may be right – perhaps we’re called to be gardeners. Jesus often used that kind of imagery to illustrate our purpose – planting seeds and watering them and helping them to grow. And as resurrection people, we don’t need worldly power, because resurrection is the greatest power! So we need to avoid the temptation to become consumed by our own circumstances to the exclusion of others.

     Having said that, though, while we may have to move beyond our survival instinct, it’s OK for us to do self-care. Our passage from Matthew 6 today in a way was Jesus telling his disciples to do some self-care along with what we do for others. He did speak about “giving alms” - which means giving for the sake of the poor; something we do for others – but he also spoke about “practicing piety” (being concerned with how we live our lives,) praying (being concerned with how we’re connected to God) and fasting (remembering the connection between our bodies and spirits, and how both connect us to God.) Those three things you might call Christian self-care. And there are things we do for the church, as well. As Christians who practice our faith through a particular congregation, we have to care for that congregation; we have to be concerned for its well-being. There are things we do that are “for” the congregation.

     So we give our time – because without people willing to make a commitment to do the things involved in the life and work of this congregation (both the administrative work and the more spiritual and mission type work work) that congregation can’t survive. Without people, we’re nothing – and we only have people if those people give some time to the church and makes the church a priority rather than an afterthought. So this congregation needs some of your time. And so we give our money - because without people willing to make the commitment to support our ministries in a material way we cannot keep doing the things we’re doing. (I know – “money” the word we’re not supposed to speak about in a sermon, but I bet the members of the Finance Committee are quietly nodding their heads and saying “preach it, pastor!”) So this congregation needs some of your money. And so we offer our prayers – because without people willing to remember and hold this congregation in their prayers we’ll be able to do nothing, because ultimately our power to live out the gospel in a society that often doesn’t want to hear the gospel and is sometimes even hostile to it comes from the Spirit of God, whose power we access through prayer. So this congregations needs some of your prayers. I’m pretty sure that Jesus would agree with the idea that offering those three things is vital for any disciple of his. But, ultimately, still – it’s not for us.

     If we need those things for the church to survive then we need to ask ourselves why it’s important for the church to survive. A question that I sometimes ask is what would be lost if we didn’t exist? Who would notice if we weren’t around anymore? If you look at the Announcements section of this week’s bulletin you’ll find that just in the next seven days we’re going to be hosting a Foot Clinic, a Clothing Boutique and a service in which we’ll offer our support to Karanda Hospital in Zimbabwe, and we’re going to take a special offering today for the Benevolent Fund and we’re asking you to remember our Food Boxes if you can. That’s five things in one bulletin stretching out over the next seven day period that reach out and directly touch the lives of others. You see, once we’ve done our self-care, we don’t stay there. Even if, for a little while, we choose to focus on “me,” moved by the Spirit of God, we then change our focus to “you.” We look inward for a while to let God empower us to focus outward – because that is ultimately the call of the church: to reach out, to touch and care for and heal others; to love the unloved and to welcome into our midst the marginalized.

     Tommy Douglas – a few years ago named by CBC as “The Greatest Canadian” (a former Premier of Saskatchewan and leader of the CCF/NDP and an ordained Baptist minister) – once said that

“we are all in this world together, and the only test of our character that matters is how we look after the least fortunate among us. How we look after each other, not how we look after ourselves. That’s all that really matters, I think.” 

     This was what Jesus did up to his dying breath on the cross. This is what Jesus asks us to do as his church for as long as we have life to do it.

May 27 sermon: Images Of God

Ascribe to the Lord, you heavenly beings, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength. Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name; worship the Lord in the splendor of his holiness. The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord thunders over the mighty waters. The voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is majestic. The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars; the Lord breaks in pieces the cedars of Lebanon. He makes Lebanon leap like a calf, Sirion like a young wild ox. The voice of the Lord strikes with flashes of lightning. The voice of the Lord shakes the desert; the Lord shakes the Desert of Kadesh. The voice of the Lord twists the oaks and strips the forests bare. And in his temple all cry, “Glory!” The Lord sits enthroned over the flood; the Lord is enthroned as King forever. The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.

(Psalm 29:1-11)

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     Well, today is the day that Christians the world over wait for with great expectancy, and in anticipation of this festive occasion I’m sure that none of us were able to sleep last night, so pumped up were we all about coming to church to celebrate – Trinity Sunday! It’s the Sunday after Pentecost which we set aside to reflect upon the central doctrine and perhaps the identifying belief of the Christian faith – the Trinity. The God who is both Three in One and One in Three. But rather than just listening to me speak about it, I want to introduce you to Connall, Donall and St. Patrick – and we’ll give them a shot at explaining this greatest of all Christian doctrines this morning.

You Tube Video: St. Patrick’s Bad Analogies

     You get it now – right? The Trinity. The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Or – we could say it in Greek: τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ καὶ τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος. Or – we could go with Roman Catholic tradition and use Latin: in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Or we could use some of the alternative trinitarian formulae that have arisen in recent years: Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer, or Creator, Christ and Spirit or Love, Love Incarnate and Love’s Power, or God Above Us, God With Us and God Within Us. Or we could use some of St. Patrick’s Bad Analogies that Connall and Donnall tore apart for us: water, ice and steam or sun, heat and light, or a man who’s a father, a son and a husband all at the same time. You probably get the point. There are so many different ways in which we speak of the Trinity. The Trinity is important. I’d be the last to suggest otherwise. Some think it’s an arcane bit of theological history, but for Christians it’s central. Before I came to Pickering Village I was interviewed by another church, and one of their first questions to me was: do you believe in the Trinity? Belief in the Trinity in some form is what identifies us as Christians and makes us unique among the monotheistic faiths of the world. Years ago, in Port Colborne, my UCW arranged for a speaker from a local mosque to come to their monthly meeting. He arrived at the church early and I invited him into my office where we chatted. I said to him at one point, “you know, we actually have a lot in common in what we believe.” He looked at me and said “Maybe. But we would never accept the Trinity.” It defines us as Christians, and yet – as the video demonstrated – it’s a concept that really can’t be properly explained or fully understood. Ultimately it might be derived from Scripture, but it isn’t precisely “in” the Bible. The Bible never says that God is Three in One and One in Three. The Trinity is what I’d call a classic doctrine of the church. It’s something developed by the church to try to explain the mystery of God but as with all doctrine, the Trinity should introduce God to us and push us further along the path of trying to understand God, but for many Christians the Trinity becomes an end in itself. Father, Son and Holy Spirit becomes for some the totality of God – and yet God can’t be contained in a human formula. And as is always the case with doctrine – doctrine understood as an end rather than as a start leads to accusations of heresy, and heresy divides the church. Now please understand – I am a trinitarian. The doctrine of the Trinity is vital to my understanding of God, but I believe that the Trinity does more than just speak of three persons in the godhead – whatever that means – and, if we’re being honest, we’ll admit that we don’t know what “three persons in the godhead “ means anyway. So I think I understood the point that Connall and Donnall were making. We can use all the analogies and all the fancy doctrinal language we want – but the Trinity remains a mystery, and the nature of God remains a mystery (“Holy Mystery” as A Song of Faith says.) I’m not so much concerned with understanding the Trinity as I am with where the Trinity directs me, and with what it tells me about God – because I think that’s the purpose of all doctrine.

     I found myself thinking of these words from the great modern theologian N.T. Wright, who wrote “When human beings give their heartfelt allegiance to and worship that which is not God, they progressively cease to reflect the image of God. One of the primary laws of human life is that you become like what you worship.” That can be a problem, I’ve discovered, with how Christians treat the Trinity. It turns into an absolute for faith. It becomes a litmus test by which we judge the faith of other Christians. It becomes what God is to many Christians (even if they don’t really understand it) so that the image of God that we reflect becomes a hardened God – an idol, if you will, made not of wood or stone but of the words of church dogma. I choose instead to see the Trinity as a guide that helps me to explore the fullness of God without binding me to an inevitably incomplete picture of God.

     Today, we read the 29th Psalm. It is not, obviously, a trinitarian piece of writing. But of all the lectionary readings for today I wanted to use it because I believe it’s doing something similar to what the doctrine of the Trinity does: it doesn’t so much explain God as it captures the essence of God, the mystery of God and the power of God. It speaks not just of the power of God over nature but of God being seen in the most powerful events of the natural world: thunder and mighty water; lightning and earthquakes and mighty winds all seem to make their appearance. People have always discerned the presence of God in natural events, or at least they've seen something otherworldly in the natural phenomenon of this world. When I was young, whenever there was a bad thunderstorm I'd be told - and my family were atheists - not to worry, because the thunder was just “God bowling.” And even looking at it from the other perspective, one can't look at pictures from Hawaii right now and have any doubt where the popular images of hell cake from, as we watch fire and red hot molten rock being belched up from the earth. The natural world becomes our window to the things of God and of the spiritual world. So “God chooses to be known” might be a way to paraphrase what the author of the Psalm is saying. God chooses to be known in ways that we can’t help but notice. What does that have to do with the Trinity? Directly? Nothing perhaps. And yet – the Trinity is also a way of speaking of God choosing to be known. If Psalm 29 speaks of God being known through the power of nature, then the Trinity speaks of God being known through the power of love – if I can quote Bishop Michael Curry from the Royal Wedding! (And, just as an aside, I may be the only person in the world who watched the Royal Wedding because I wanted to hear the sermon!)

     The Trinity speaks of relationship. “Father, Son and Holy Spirit” - or whatever formula you choose – speaks of the fact that God is essentially self-sufficient; God needs no one or nothing; God needs no relationship with us because relationship itself is the very essence of God. On the surface, perhaps saying that God does not need us seems rather cold – but it’s really quite the opposite, because if God does not need us (and the very idea of God as Three in One and One in Three testifies to the fact that God does not need us) then there is only one reason that God created us: God wants us; God loves us. Henri Nouwen said that

we’re inclined to see our whole existence in terms of ‘quid pro quo’; you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. We begin by assuming that people will be nice to us if we are nice to them; that they will help us if we help them; that they will invite us if we invite them; that they will love us if we love them. ... Everything that Jesus has done, said, and undergone is meant to show us that the love we most long for is given to us by God, not because we deserved it, but because God is a God of love.

     For me what matters about the doctrine of the Trinity is not that it establishes some unchanging formula that defines God once and for all time. What matters about it is that it reminds me that the God who didn’t need us nevertheless chose to create us, chose in Jesus to come among us and chooses in the Holy Spirit to remain with us. The Trinity reminds us that we are wanted by God and loved by God. Which is altogether more important than any point of church dogma could ever be.

May 6 sermon: Our Friend Jesus

As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.

(John 15:9-17)

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     Anais Nin was a French-Cuban author who died in Los Angeles in 1977. She’s not the sort of author we talk about a lot in church, because some of the writing that made her well known was (shall we say) of the more adult variety, but she touched on a variety of subjects, and somewhere along the way she wrote these words: “Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” Jesus, in our passage today, is speaking among other things about the value and the importance of friendship. We think of Jesus in many ways – Lord, Saviour, Son of God, Messiah. These are all good and noble titles, but I wonder if there is any more noble title than that of “friend”? To make someone a friend is to make a conscious choice that this person is worthy of being an intimate part of our lives.  As Anais Nin said, to make someone a friend is to – in a sense – create a whole new world just between the two of you. This is the type of relationship that Jesus invites us into. It’s all of those other things I just mentioned – but it’s also a friendship.

     I think we understand that concept in church quitewell. We sing songs like “What A Friend We Have In Jesus,” and songs that include words like “Christ calls his people friends,” and we know the type of close, personal and intimate relationship that we’re speaking of with those words. Friendships are sometimes strange things. Most often, sadly perhaps, they’re temporary. They come; they go. The friends we once had we sometimes lose contact with (although precious is the friendship that lasts a lifetime!) but we make new friends as the years go by. In this constant revolution and evolution of friendships, our worlds come and our worlds go; new worlds are created with new friends; old worlds are set aside when some friends move on or when we move on. We all know that. Usually it just happens naturally over the course of time. When I was a young boy from about Kindergarten onward, I had two best friends. Forgive the poor grammar – I know it’s not logically possible to have two “best” friends, but you get the point. For several years the three of us were a team in one way or another. Rick and Greg and Steve. I had lots of other friends, but the three of us were best friends and everybody knew it. We played together at recess and at lunch time. We spent time in each other’s homes. We played street hockey in the winter and baseball in the park in the summer. We all collected hockey and baseball cards and traded them among ourselves. I remember that well! “Wow! You’ve got two Norm Ullmans? I’ve got two Paul Hendersons! Let’s trade!” It wasn’t always an easy relationship. It had its ups and downs. Sometimes all three of us were best friends; sometimes one of us would have a falling out and it would be two friends with one cast outside for a while for some reason. Boys being boys I think I can even remember a couple of times when fists might have been involved with some of the falling outs, but whatever caused the falling out was usually quickly forgotten and set aside and eventually we’d be Rick and Greg and Steve again: best friends. But … time marches on; things change. Eventually Greg moved from Scarborough to Brantford, and after Grade 6 Rick and I went to different schools. The friendships were gone. After all, there was no Facebook or Instagram or texting back in those days. So for each of us one of our worlds ended. Losing them was tough for me. After I graduated from Grade 6 I became the target of the school bully for a couple of years. Grades 7 & 8 were a miserable, isolated and lonely time for me. I think it would have been easier if Rick and Greg had still been around, but still - even without them and even with the bullying – life went on. And eventually new worlds of friendship were born to replace those boyhood friendships, but those friendship with Rick and Greg (or at least the memory of them) still affect me. I think back on them and I realize that although those specific worlds of friendships may have ended, their impact affected me so that they become in some way inevitable parts of whatever new worlds of friendships that I’ve ever formed or that I ever will form. Rick and Greg and I shared a world for a few years. We’re always a part of each other in a way, even though it’s been many, many years since we’ve had any contact.

     But, you know, it would have been nice to have kept them around. I really do believe it would have made those years of bullying a lot easier to handle. And it strikes me that that’s the truly precious thing about Jesus. He’s always around. He doesn’t move away or go off to a different school. He’s just always there. From time to time we might get into a fight with him – and we might even shake our fists at him – but he always declines the opportunity for a dust-up with him, and just tells us “we’ll talk about it when you cool down. I’ll still be here.” If only the bond of our every day friendships with those around us were so simple and yet so strong. In “What A Friend We Have In Jesus,” the question is asked, “Can we find a friend so faithful?” Well, the answer is “no.” We can’t. Jesus’ faithfulness to us is a given, even if our faithfulness to him isn’t always. It’s demonstrated in ways that few of our other friends have ever had to demonstrate. We can be a shoulder to cry on or a sympathetic ear – but the real test of friendship comes when we’re faced with the prospect of having to give something up for the sake of those we claim as friends. Jesus made the point well. “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” How many of us would do that – and for whom? Our spouses, our children – I hope for them. But what level of “friendship” is required to make that kind of sacrifice; that kind of commitment? In this passage Jesus is saying that the potential cost of friendship is high; that we need to be prepared to make real sacrifices for those we count as friends. In this era of “Facebook friends” that we’ve never actually met, friendship seems a bit watered down – but from Jesus’ perspective friendship is not something to be taken lightly. It’s too easy for us to get confused about the difference between true friends and mere acquaintances. Jay Leno once said, “Go through your phone book, call people and ask them to drive you to the airport. The ones who will drive you are your true friends. The rest aren’t bad people; they’re just acquaintances.” I want to tell you something – Jesus would drive you to the airport! Jesus would do more! Jesus did more! “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Jesus did that. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,” says John 3:16, and as Paul would write years later in 2 Corinthians 5:14, reflecting upon the meaning and the mystery of the cross and on his own relationship with Jesus: “Christ’s love guides us. We are convinced of the fact that one man died for the people.” He’s our friend, indeed – a friend without equal. George Washington (a man who was known for being cautious in his friendships) once wrote, “Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.” Jesus’ friendship for us has been tested by the greatest adversity – the cross! Jesus is a proven friend who is worthy of being called that.

     And what of us? Jesus’ words have a challenge for us as well. “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.” How do we do what Jesus commanded? Jesus isn’t speaking here about slavish obedience to a set of rules that have to be followed for a friendship to be a friendship. That would be the very opposite of real friendship. Real and true friendship must be freely chosen and freely lived. So when Jesus says to “do what I command you” he’s not talking about obedience to rules, he’s talking about a changed heart. Are we going to do what he commands us by changing our lives and how we view the world and how we treat those around us so that we, too, might finally reach the point of being willing  to sacrifice everything we have for his sake – which means doing it for the sake of those around us, because – frankly – since we call ourselves Christians, any friend of Jesus should be a friend of ours!

     Remember those words of Anais Nin: “Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” May we be creating new worlds of friendship all the time, as we befriend the children of God and as we experience the continuing joy of friendship with Jesus!

April 22 sermon: Jesus Is Better Than Good

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away - and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

(John 10:11-18)

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     I’d like you to imagine for a moment – just imagine it – that you’re going to have some type of major surgery tomorrow. Perhaps it’s brain surgery or something equally serious. You’d surely feel just a little bit apprehensive going in to the surgery. But how would you feel if you found out that the doctor performing the surgery had lost every patient he had ever performed the procedure on? At the very least a lot of questions would come to your mind, and that bit of news wouldn’t ease your apprehension at all. When we place our lives into someone else’s hands we want to be assured that the person we’ve chosen to trust is approved, knowledgeable, skillful and caring. Those things are important at a time like that. Now I want you to think about Jesus. Jesus was concerned with both body and soul, you might say, and Jesus was often disturbed by the quality of spiritual care people were receiving from what you might call spiritual quacks whom he saw as destructive and uncaring, and he was equally disturbed  by the easy willingness of so many people to turn themselves over to these quacks for spiritual care. In Jesus’ eyes, those who fell under the care of these spiritual quacks became like sheep without a shepherd, or at least like sheep who were being cared for by a shabby and incompetent shepherd. There were a lot of reasons why some shepherds might not make the grade. They either weren’t up to the responsibility of being shepherds or they weren’t interested in it but had to do it to make a living. Basically, Jesus’ attitude seems to have been that the best shepherds were those who actually owned the sheep they were caring for. Philip Keller, in a book called “A Shepherd Looks At Psalm 23,” writes about these kinds of shepherds, from his personal experience of having seen what he called “tenant shepherds” (people hired by the owners of the sheep to tend them because the owners didn’t want the lifestyle anymore) during visits to Israel:

… He was not concerned about the condition of his sheep. His land was neglected. He gave little or no time to his flock, letting them pretty well forage for themselves as best they could, both summer and winter. They fell prey to [wild animals.] Every year these poor creatures were forced to gnaw away at bare brown fields and impoverished pastures. Every winter there was a shortage of nourishing hay and wholesome grain to feed the hungry ewes. Shelter to safeguard and protect the suffering sheep from storms and blizzards was scanty and inadequate, They had only polluted, muddy water to drink. There [was] a lack of salt and other trace minerals needed to offset their sickly pastures. In their thin, weak and diseased condition these poor sheep [were] a pathetic sight. In my mind’s eye I can still see them standing at the fence, huddled sadly in little knots, staring wistfully through the wires at the rich pastures on the other side. To all their distress the [shepherd] seemed utterly callous and indifferent. He simply did not care. … He ignored their needs – he couldn’t care less. Why should he – they were just sheep – fit only for the slaughterhouse.

     Those shepherds being described by Keller, of course, are the bad shepherds. It’s kind of traditional that during the Season of Easter, many churches lift up the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd. During Easter we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection, and it’s the risen Jesus who guides and directs and protects us as a good shepherd does his sheep. We reflect on this image during the Season of Easter, because Easter is the confirmation that Jesus meant exactly what he said – that he would lay down his life for his sheep, and by so doing he would safeguard their lives and gain new and eternal life for them, which would be the proof that Jesus is “the good shepherd.” This is the promise to which we as Christians cling – that “the good shepherd” is watching over us and will never abandon us.

     Throughout his ministry, Jesus over and over expressed concern that the people of God were being poorly cared for by unauthorized, uncaring and incompetent shepherds – what Keller called tenant shepherds who couldn’t care less about they sheep in their care - and in response he became “the good shepherd,” and his goodness was demonstrated by the close and personal relationship that Jesus had with each one of his sheep. For whatever reason (and I think it’s unfortunate) in the United Church we tend to react against that image of the “personal relationship with Jesus” - but it’s very much a part of Jesus’ teachings. We find it in this passage. Jesus knows the sheep by name. Jesus knows their natures; Jesus knows their needs. Jesus placed himself in jeopardy for the sheep he was caring for. In all those ways, Jesus demonstrated that he was “the good shepherd.” But what I’ve wondered at times is whether that description goes far enough. Maybe “good” is too tame for Jesus. Maybe we need to speak of him as being more than just “good.” In fact, even some of the authors of the New Testament  understood that simply calling Jesus “the good shepherd” wasn’t always enough. In 1 Peter 5:4, for example, Jesus is referred to as “the chief shepherd,” and in Hebrews 13:20 Jesus is referred to as “the great shepherd.” So what was it that made those authors elevate Jesus from “good” to “chief” and “great”? Well, we’re in the Season of Easter – and surely, in the light of his resurrection, it was simply that the disciples had begun to grow in their understanding of who Jesus was. Maybe while he was alive, they thought of the “shepherd” as a gentle and pastoral image (which is often the overly romanticized image we have of Jesus today) but the resurrection made them understand that Jesus was more than just gentle and pastoral – he had authority and power and strength. There are two things in this passage, I think, that point out why Jesus is better than good.

     The first thing Jesus stresses in this passage is his willingness to sacrifice himself for the sake of the sheep under his care. In the course of just eight verses Jesus tells his disciples five times that he would give himself for their sake. There have been a lot of explanations offered over the centuries for WHY Jesus was killed. Some say it’s because the religious leaders were jealous of him, some that the political leaders were afraid of him, some that it was just a miscarriage of justice, some that it was a necessary blood sacrifice that God required, There are probably a lot of other reasons out there. But for Jesus – at least in this passage – the important thing seems not to be to explain why the crucifixion happened; the important thing was simply that it happened and what it symbolized. The cross was his decision, he went to it willingly and he did it for the sheep of his pasture. He could have resisted; he could have said no; he could have come down from the cross – but he didn’t. He willingly gave himself for the sake of his sheep. I may have explained the way shepherds in Jesus’ day looked after their sheep before. If I have and you’ve heard it, feel free to tune out for a few seconds. There were no pens or fences 2000 years ago. The shepherd literally herded his sheep from place to place. Eventually, as each day drew to an end, the shepherd would herd his sheep into a cave or other secure place for the night, and the shepherd would sleep by laying across the entrance. Anything that would harm the sheep would quite literally have to go over or through the shepherd. The shepherd’s life was at risk – especially during the night. He would give his life in defence of his sheep. Perhaps it’s no surprise that Jesus was arrested at night, when shepherds would have been most vulnerable.

     The other remarkable thing to note from this passage is that Jesus didn’t just give himself for one particular group of people. “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.” Those who follow the same Lord can have an almost ridiculously diverse set of different beliefs and different practices and different understandings and different interpretations. We often think about this as either a problem to be overcome or as a reason to think ourselves better than those we disagree with, but from Jesus’ perspective it’s neither. Maybe Jesus sees what we might refer to as “unity in diversity.” He’s one shepherd who owns many flocks and all the flocks are united by their common devotion to him and his devotion to all of them – even though no two of the flocks are exactly alike. Perhaps Jesus realized that some believers would find some truths to be more important or more meaningful than other truths. There an old saying – “if you have one believer you have a Christian, if you have two believers you have a Christian church and if you have three believers you have two Christian churches.” That didn’t seem to have bothered Jesus. The unity he desired among his followers was not that they’d all be identical, living in the same pen. Rather, it was that all of them would understand that, regardless of their differences, they have the same shepherd.

     This passage really offers us the basis of Christian unity – the core of our common identity as Christians, regardless of whatever other labels we might place upon ourselves or others. What holds us together is that Jesus – our “good shepherd” - laid down his life for us all, and that by his willingness to do this he overcomes the things that so often divide his followers. Ultimately, he brings all the sheep – sometimes in spite of ourselves – into the same pen. That makes him more than just a “good shepherd.”  He’s the “great shepherd” or the “chief shepherd.” Jesus is better than good. He’s the best shepherd of all!

April 8 sermon - A Sign Of The Resurrection

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.

(Acts 4:32-35)

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     Some people live by the old adage that “seeing is believing.” I think, for example, of the classic biblical example of the Apostle Thomas refusing to accept the testimony of his fellow apostles about Jesus’ resurrection until he had seen the risen Christ with his own eyes. Jesus, of course, in response to Thomas’s demands to see him, responded with the words “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” We here today, then, are among the truly blessed because we haven’t seen the risen Jesus, but our presence here is a sign that we’re willing and able to believe without seeing, and if we’re going to successfully share our faith with the world, then we have to be able to convince others that they should be willing to believe without seeing as well. The question is “how?” We face the same dilemma that the apostles faced with Thomas. If we can’t actually show Jesus to people or invite them to at least listen to his voice, is there any evidence at all that can help us to share our faith in the risen Jesus? What, indeed, are the signs of the resurrection in the world today? In answer to my own question, I want to suggest that there are many such signs, but I want to focus on just one – perhaps the greatest and most important one, and the greatest and most important sign of the resurrection today is – wait for it! - us!!!

     That might surprise you, but my reading of the New Testament tells me that, to a great extent, the answer to the question of whether there is any evidence for the resurrection is: the church. The very existence of the church is a witness to the resurrection; the very existence of the church is evidence to the world that Jesus has, in fact, been raised from the dead. The early church leapt into existence when those first disciples realized that in spite of his death, they had an unbroken and in fact unbreakable connection to the living Jesus Christ. Enlivened by that connection and emboldened by that conviction, they lived in their world with so much passion and with so much compassion, with so much love and with so much grace, with so much generosity and with so much power that the only possible explanation for their life together as the church was the presence and the power of the risen Christ.

     We found a remarkable description of the life of the earliest Christians in the earliest church in the passage from the Book of Acts that we read this morning. It was a short passage – only four verses – but it packed power! This earliest church was a community that demonstrated such joy, celebration, and exuberance; such compassion, generosity and love that there could only have been one plausible explanation: Jesus was with them! His presence with them caused them to live out their faith in ways that touched people far beyond the confines of that Christian community: they gave themselves on behalf of the broken, the bruised, and the battered; they shared their lives with the least and with the last. They had deep love for one another, great compassion for their neighbours, and passionate devotion to God. The brilliant skeptic Friedrich Nietzsche once challenged Christians with these words: “I might believe in your redeemer if you looked more redeemed.” He wouldn’t have said those words to that ancient church in Jerusalem, who were living in the immediate power of Easter and Pentecost. In that Christian community, everywhere you looked, there were signs of the resurrection. The early church was a vivid demonstration of the risen and living Christ.

     Now, before anyone starts to say “wait a minute – that’s fine but we’re not them,” it’s important to remember that even though that earliest Christian church was brilliantly aglow (blazing even!) with the presence of Jesus, that earliest Christian community wasn’t a perfect church. It was no less human and no less flawed than any congregation today – including our own. We’re imperfect people and so we have an imperfect church – and it was no different in the earliest church. It numbered among its leaders a denying Peter, a competitive John, an ambitious James, and, yes, that doubting Thomas that I mentioned earlier. The same Book of Acts that describes this church as a bold and shining witness to the resurrection is also honest enough to tell us that it was often embroiled in conflict and embittered by controversy. The Book of Acts in various places tells us of selfishness and discrimination that existed within the community of faith, and yet, for all that, this was still  truly an Easter church made up of an Easter people who bore powerful witness to the presence of the risen Christ among them, even in spite of their various flaws. That causes me to wonder: if that oh so human and imperfect bunch could rise with Jesus above its own conflict and its own pettiness to be a truly Easter church, then maybe we, too (sometimes perhaps in spite of ourselves) can manage to be a living witness to the living Christ. Whenever we gather together to share our fellowship, to tell our stories, to sing our songs, to pray our prayers, to worship our God, to bear witness to the good news, to care for those in need, to work for peace, and to struggle for justice – when we join together to do those things we should discover anew that Jesus is alive and among us and that “great grace [is] upon [us] all.”

     Whenever you may find yourself tempted to doubt the truth of the resurrection (and doubt is something that all of us have to contend with from time to time) perhaps the best advice I could give would be to look around you during a Sunday service (or any gathering of Christ’s church anywhere or anytime, for that matter.) What you’ll see around you are signs of the resurrection of Jesus. When you see choir members who rehearse long hours so that they can be prepared to lead us in song and to lift us to heartfelt praise of God – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you see people who take flowers or joy bags from the church to brighten the lives of those who are sick or bereaved or shut-in – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you see people who have helped clothe those in need or provide a delicious meal – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you notice someone offering a quiet word of encouragement to someone who’s troubled – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you see followers of Jesus praying and working for peace and justice – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you see someone who’s given of their time to make sure that there would be a Sunday School lesson or craft prepared for the children on Sunday morning – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you see people making sure that a hospital in far away Africa would have the essential supplies it needs – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you see people laughing or crying together over the joys and disappointments of their lives – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you see someone facing illness and death hopefully and honestly and courageously – that’s a sign of the resurrection!  When you see people praying for victims of tragedies halfway across the country and halfway around the world – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you see grace and mercy defining our relationships rather than judgement and condemnation – that’s a sign of the resurrection! When you see the church opening its doors and its heart to whoever comes and excluding no one – that’s a sign of the resurrection! All these things together are enough to convince me in my own moments of doubt that – however much so-called “evidence” there may be to the contrary – Jesus is alive and well and living within us and among us, motivating us to be an extension of his own ministry, until the day comes when he returns to us, and all will be as God wants it to be.

     The living Jesus embraces the world with the arms of his followers – which means that the living Jesus embraces the world with our arms. The living Jesus speaks words of grace with our voices. The living Jesus demands justice and offers peace through our witness and our compassion. The living Jesus extends love through our kindness and our concern. The living Jesus extends healing through our touch and our care. Over and over again, by God’s great grace, the simple and ordinary practices of the church are the means by which Jesus becomes real to us and to the world. We show the world the sights and sounds of Christ, just as surely as Christ is present to us in his body – the church. The church’s very existence is the evidence for the truth of Easter. For we who are a part of it, it’s a high calling – and it’s not always an easy calling – but it’s one we should be happy to claim and blessed to be responding to. The church itself is the greatest sign of the resurrection.

March 30 2018 (Good Friday) sermon - The Greatest Love Story Ever Written

After Jesus had spoken these words, he went out with his disciples across the Kidron valley to a place where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered. Now Judas, who betrayed him, also knew the place, because Jesus often met there with his disciples. So Judas brought a detachment of soldiers together with police from the chief priests and the Pharisees, and they came there with lanterns and torches and weapons. Then Jesus, knowing all that was to happen to him, came forward and asked them, “Whom are you looking for?” They answered, “Jesus of Nazareth.” Jesus replied, “I am he.” Judas, who betrayed him, was standing with them. When Jesus said to them, “I am he,” they stepped back and fell to the ground. Again he asked them, “Whom are you looking for?” And they said, “Jesus of Nazareth.” Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. So if you are looking for me, let these men go.” This was to fulfill the word that he had spoken, “I did not lose a single one of those whom you gave me.” Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it, struck the high priest’s slave, and cut off his right ear. The slave’s name was Malchus. Jesus said to Peter, “Put your sword back into its sheath. Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” So the soldiers, their officer, and the Jewish police arrested Jesus and bound him. First they took him to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people. Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, but Peter was standing outside at the gate. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in. The woman said to Peter, “You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?” He said, “I am not.” Now the slaves and the police had made a charcoal fire because it was cold, and they were standing around it and warming themselves. Peter also was standing with them and warming himself. Then the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Jesus answered, “I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said.” When he had said this, one of the police standing nearby struck Jesus on the face, saying, “Is that how you answer the high priest?” Jesus answered, “If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong. But if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest. Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. They asked him, “You are not also one of his disciples, are you?” He denied it and said, “I am not.” One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, “Did I not see you in the garden with him?” Again Peter denied it, and at that moment the cock crowed. Then they took Jesus from Caiaphas to Pilate’s headquarters. It was early in the morning. They themselves did not enter the headquarters, so as to avoid ritual defilement and to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate went out to them and said, “What accusation do you bring against this man?” They answered, “If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.” Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law.” The Jews replied, “We are not permitted to put anyone to death.” (This was to fulfill what Jesus had said when he indicated the kind of death he was to die.) Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate asked him, “What is truth?” After he had said this, he went out to the Jews again and told them, “I find no case against him. But you have a custom that I release someone for you at the Passover. Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?” They shouted in reply, “Not this man, but Barabbas!” Now Barabbas was a bandit.

Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and they dressed him in a purple robe. They kept coming up to him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” and striking him on the face. Pilate went out again and said to them, “Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no case against him.” So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, “Here is the man!” When the chief priests and the police saw him, they shouted, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves and crucify him; I find no case against him.” The Jews answered him, “We have a law, and according to that law he ought to die because he has claimed to be the Son of God.” Now when Pilate heard this, he was more afraid than ever. He entered his headquarters again and asked Jesus, “Where are you from?” But Jesus gave him no answer. Pilate therefore said to him, “Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?” Jesus answered him, “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above; therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” From then on Pilate tried to release him, but the Jews cried out, “If you release this man, you are no friend of the emperor. Everyone who claims to be a king sets himself against the emperor.” When Pilate heard these words, he brought Jesus outside and sat on the judge’s bench at a place called The Stone Pavement, or in Hebrew Gabbatha. Now it was the day of Preparation for the Passover; and it was about noon. He said to the Jews, “Here is your King!” They cried out, “Away with him! Away with him! Crucify him!” Pilate asked them, “Shall I crucify your King?” The chief priests answered, “We have no king but the emperor.” Then he handed him over to them to be crucified. So they took Jesus; and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” Many of the Jews read this inscription, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek. Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, “Do not write, ‘The King of the Jews,’ but, ‘This man said, I am King of the Jews.’” Pilate answered, “What I have written I have written.” When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it.” This was to fulfill what the scripture says, “They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.” And that is what the soldiers did. Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), “I am thirsty.” A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, “It is finished.” Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. Since it was the day of Preparation, the Jews did not want the bodies left on the cross during the sabbath, especially because that sabbath was a day of great solemnity. So they asked Pilate to have the legs of the crucified men broken and the bodies removed. Then the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first and of the other who had been crucified with him. But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once blood and water came out. (He who saw this has testified so that you also may believe. His testimony is true, and he knows that he tells the truth.) These things occurred so that the scripture might be fulfilled, “None of his bones shall be broken.” And again another passage of scripture says, “They will look on the one whom they have pierced.” After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission; so he came and removed his body. Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews. Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid. And so, because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

(John 18:1-19:42)

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     One thing that I’ve noticed over the years is that Protestants seem to have a lot of trouble with Good Friday. I suppose that’s understandable. The cross is a hideous thing, really, and the crucifixion is a gruesome story. Unlike the Roman Catholic Church, we prefer empty crosses in our sanctuaries rather than crucifixes and the resurrection – while perhaps harder to believe – is a lot more palatable than Jesus’ death. I understand all that. But a resurrection without a crucifixion seems illogical, and one can’t really speak of new life unless one is prepared to acknowledge that the old life has to come to an end. So Good Friday may not be the most popular of worship services, and it may be sombre, but it is necessary. And since Protestants do seem to have more trouble than Roman Catholics with the very idea of Good Friday, I thought I’d turn to a Roman Catholic source today to try to give some perspective to this strange day on which we worship.

     Father Jim Schmitmeyer is a priest and author who served the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Cincinnati. In one of his books called “Preacher In A Hard Hat,” he described the last days of his grandmother, who had suffered for years from Alzhemier’s. He wrote that “everything had grown completely strange to her and nothing was familiar. She no longer recognized anyone, didn't know where she was, and only spoke a few phrases in German, the language of her youth.” He went on to describe the phone call that everyone dreads – the call from the nursing home saying that the family should come because there wasn’t much time left. Before they headed out the door to travel to the nursing home to say good-bye, Schmitmeyer’s aunt (the dying woman’s daughter) thought to bring something sacred: she picked up a small wooded crucifix that had hung for years on her mother’s bedroom wall. Schmitmeyer then described what happened next: “In a world where my grandmother knew nothing else, she recognized the crucifix! She reached for the cross and she held it close to her until she died later that evening.” He went on to say that “I am convinced that, on some deep level, in that part of us that we call the soul, we recognize the power of Christ’s cross because we retain a memory of human love. … Love remains.”

     On Good Friday we’ve not gathered to celebrate the death of Jesus – we’ve gathered to embrace the cross just as Jim Schmitmeyer’s grandmother did in the last hours of her life, and we do that because – as squeamish as it may make us feel and as uncomfortable as it may be for us to admit – fundamentally we are people of the cross; we are people who recognize the cross as the greatest sign of the greatest sacrifice and of the greatest love that the world has ever seen. As Charles Wesley wrote in a wonderful hymn, “Amazing love, how can it be that thou, my God, shouldst die for me?”

     As Protestants, we want to focus on the resurrection. I get that. We prefer our cross empty. I get that, and I rejoice in the empty cross as well. We sanitize Holy Communion, so that many prefer to speak of “the Cup of new beginnings” rather than “the blood of Christ,” and “Bread for the journey” rather than “the body of Christ.” I get that. I understand it, and I think those are fine and meaningful images. But – at least on one day of the year – we’re invited to consider perhaps the hardest thing about our faith: that we proclaim a Messiah who not only died, but who was savagely and brutally tortured because of his insistence on proclaiming a message of inclusion, a message of hope, a message that all were equal and welcome before God, a message of deep and abiding love – and to reflect upon our own society which (although we may not engage in torture) still contains many people who at least ridicule those who dare to stand for such principles. An absolutely literal translation of John 15:13 says “Greater than this love no one has: that anyone lays down his soul for his friends.” Not just “his life” - which is the way the verse is usually translated – but his very soul; that part of a person that connects them most intimately and most personally to God. That is what Jesus gave for all whom he would call his friends, including us: not just his body, but his soul.

     In a Spanish language gospel song called “Look At Him,” the Mexican songwriter Ruben Sotelo describes Jesus at the cross. He asks those who listen to imagine that they are there and rather than singing along or swaying or clapping, to just look quietly as Jesus dies; to simply be quiet, because there’s literally nothing to say when confronted by the love of the crucified Jesus. That’s why the Passion story Karen and I read truly is the greatest love story ever written.