Imperfect People Called to be Disciples

For the next few weeks, we will be reading from the gospel of Mark. Mark’s gospel is the shortest and probably the first to be written down. Mark doesn’t contain any birth narrative. Mark begins with Jesus being baptized by John the Baptist. Jesus called the first disciples from their fishing nets and then then he began to teach and heal.

In Mark 2:1-22 news about Jesus was already starting to build. Jesus came home to Capernaum, maybe hoping for a bit of rest and still, the crowds of people found him there. The house filled up and people were crowding around outside the door. So, imagine the crowd filling the house and spilling out into the yard. Then there’s a bit of commotion as someone arrives to be healed. This person is being carried on a mat and with all the jostling and the crowd, there’s no way they will get to Jesus. Their friends climb up on the roof, dig through the mud and thatch, and make a hole big enough to lower the stretcher through.

Jesus saw the faith of the friends who had brought the paralyzed person and declared, “My child, your sins are forgiven.” It is interesting that Jesus begins not with a physical examination of symptoms but with the spiritual. Our spiritual lives shape the way we experience the world. Our spiritual lives shape our behaviour and—to a certain extent—our physical health. In Jesus’ time, the common belief was that any physical ailment was the direct result of sin—either their own or their parent’s sin. The religious scholars would have believed that only God could forgive sins and that the priests—and the proper temple sacrifices—were the vehicles through which sins are forgiven.

In that moment, Jesus put himself in direct conflict with the scholars. He isn’t saying he is God. He is taking authority for forgiveness of sins out of the hands of the priests. Forgiveness is no longer strictly the domain of the temple and the priests. Forgiveness belongs to God’s people. Jesus’ actions directly threaten the power of the priests and the structure of the society.

But there’s more to this than just threatening the authority of the temple. For us, the priority would be healing the body but for Jesus’ listeners what would make a real difference was being restored to the community. Being associated with sin meant being an outcast in the community. Without the forgiveness of sins, the person on the stretcher remains an outcast. This person had people in their life who cared enough to risk their own social standing to see their friend restored. They wanted their friend to be part of the community again and so they carried their friend to Jesus. What kept the person isolated was not the physical ailment but the sin that was assumed to cause the ailment. That’s where Jesus started.

Jesus started with the forgiveness of sins. Forgiveness is somewhat nebulous. There’s no way of outwardly knowing whether sins have been forgiven. I have things in my own life that I thought I had figured out and let go of, that come back again as a pattern which I have to address again. Forgiveness of ourselves and others isn’t necessarily a one-time event. It is often a process. There is no way Jesus can prove the person’s sins are forgiven. In theory, the person on the mat cannot be a part of the community until the priests say their sins are forgiven and they have done the necessary rituals to be restored to the community. Jesus can say that God forgives the sin but there’s no way of proving that.

But outwardly, Jesus can prove that a physical ailment has been healed. He tells the paralyzed person to pick up their mat and go home. They roll off the mat, stand up, pick up the mat and head out the door. The physical healing is a sign of Jesus’ authority to act for God. It is a sign that the priests and the temple authority are no longer the only access to God, forgiveness and the restoration to community.

Jesus continues creating controversy. He goes out for a walk along the lake, but he is surrounded by people the whole time. He walks past the tax office and invites Levi to follow him. They go to Levi’s house and there his co-workers and colleagues have gathered. The tax collectors were considered traitors by most of their community. They collected taxes for the Roman empire and took a profit over and above what they were required to collect. When Jesus eats with Levi and his friends, he is gathering with a group of people who are disconnected from their community. There were very strict rules within Jewish society about eating with those outside the community.

And again, the scholars are annoyed. Jesus has stepped out of bounds yet again. The scholars challenge Jesus and he responds: “People who are healthy don’t need a doctor; sick ones do. I have come to call sinners, not the righteous.” Jesus is addressing the spiritual illness that allows the tax collectors to profit from the occupation of their community and the oppression of the Roman empire.

There is a stereotype of church people that we are all good, we have our lives together, and we’re all very nice people. If that were true, Jesus wouldn’t be hanging out with us. Jesus would be hanging out with the people outside the church who know that their lives are a mess and often feel unworthy and unwelcome in a community that appears to be disconnected from the realities of so many people’s lives.

No one wants to be told they are a sinner, and yet we are all human. That means we all make mistakes. We hurt one another, often unintentionally. We all sin and yet Jesus calls all of us, just as we are. Jesus calls us with all the messiness of our imperfect lives. We don’t have to wait until we have our lives together and everything figured out. There is always going to be something new to learn, a new mistake to forgive.

If we don’t acknowledge our need for healing, we become stuck in a façade of righteousness. We become the stereotype of good church people who actually don’t need Jesus or the healing God offers.

Today is the first Sunday of Epiphany, the season of light. In this season, we remember Jesus as the light of the world. Jesus’ light allows us to see the places in our lives that we might want to avoid. Epiphany and New Year’s are good times for self-reflection. What are the things that we need to let go of in order to live more deeply into our communities and relationships with others? What are the things we need to forgive in ourselves? What are the things we need to forgive in others? Jesus invites us into God’s healing love. Jesus invites us to be part of a community that loves and supports us in spite of all our humanness. Jesus invites us to be disciples who learn, grow in faith, and spread the gospel.

Just like the first disciples who left their fishing nets to follow Jesus and Levi who left his tax booth to follow Jesus, we also recommit to following Jesus—not because everything in our lives is the way it should be but because Jesus calls us just as we are. This is a time for us to recommit ourselves to the call of Jesus. Way back in November, we wrote discipleship commitments on poinsettias. As we follow the call of Jesus into this new year I want to offer a summary of some of the things people in this community of faith offered as part of their call to discipleship. There are six areas of discipleship: Prayer, loving service, worship, bible study, generosity, and sharing faith.

Prayer: meditation, praying at home and at church for family, friends and the world, keeping a gratitude journal and engaging in self-reflection.

Loving Service: be present, serve others through the food shelf, affirm, youth group, visiting sick, driving people, supporting refugees, visiting at the nursing home, supporting seniors, spreading the gospel, be kind and show love.

Worship: attend worship more often, offer leadership including music ministry, scripture and coffee, do devotions at home, enjoy stories of Jesus.

Bible Study: On-going learning, attend bible study, read bible, read other faith books, learn more stories.

Generosity: Increase pledge/PAR, volunteer for: food shelf, committees that contribute to church and community, give to other charities, share the blessings.

Sharing Faith: Be bold, build relationships, invite family, co-workers, show by actions and examples, be the living word.

These are some of the many ways that this community of faith follows Jesus. Through actions like these, we commit ourselves to a life of discipleship and life in the community of Jesus. We open ourselves to healing and the forgiveness of God’s love.

A Bah Humbug Christmas Story

I wrote this Christmas play. You can watch us share it in worship last week. It opens with a reading of Isaiah 40:1-11.

Reader 1:      Console my people! Give comfort!

Humbug:       Bah Humbug! What comfort? The world is falling apart! Climate change, wars, disease. Bah humbug! There is no comfort this year.

Reader 1:      Comfort is coming. Love is coming to bring peace and heal the earth.

Humbug:      Bah Humbug! I don’t believe it. There is no such thing as peace on earth. There is no way that the earth can survive the destruction we make. There is no hope to cure disease.

Reader 3:      Make way! Make way! Make a straight path for our God! Fill all the valleys with song. Touch the stars from the top of the mountain. Let God’s glory fill all the earth.

Humbug:      Bah Humbug I say. God is not coming among us. God doesn’t really care anymore. We humans got so off track that I figure that God might have just walked away. Humans are like the grass and wildflowers—here today and gone tomorrow.

Reader 3:      but God’s promises stand forever. God didn’t forget the covenant.

Humbug:      What covenant?

Reader 1:      The covenant to love the world. The covenant to always be in relationship with God’s people.

Humbug:       But how do you know? How do you know the promises are true?

Reader 3:      Let me tell you a story….

Carol:             All Earth is waiting VU 5

Reader 3:      Once, long ago, in a land far away there was a young woman named Mary.

Humbug:      Yes. I know this story: Mary had a little lamb, little lamb…

Reader 1:      No not that Mary. Although there are sheep in this story too. Anyway, Mary was a good Jewish girl. She was pretty ordinary. She worked hard. Got in trouble with her parents, and occasionally fought with her siblings. You know the usual teenage stuff.

Reader 3:      Mary’s parents made arrangements for her to be married to a man named Joseph. And then strange things began to happen.

Humbug:       Like what?

Reader 1:      Well an angel named Gabriel came to Mary.

Humbug:      Bah Humbug. I don’t believe in angels. Now I know the story’s not true. You’re just making this up.

Reader 3:      No. We’re not making this up. This is how the story goes. An angel named Gabriel appeared to Mary. Watch:

(Gabriel and Mary in the centre)

Gabriel:         Rejoice, highly favored one! God is with you! Blessed are you among women!

Mary:             Um. Hello?

Gabriel:         Yes. You Mary. You are blessed. Don’t be afraid.

Mary:             Who are you?

Gabriel:         I am Gabriel—a messenger of God.

Mary:             You say don’t be afraid but I am very afraid. I’ve just realized I will have a baby. Joseph might not want me anymore. My parents might not keep me. I could be stoned to death and you say, “Don’t be afraid!”

Gabriel:         I know about the pregnancy. Your child will be named Jesus which means deliverance. This child is from God. You don’t have to be afraid because God will be with you. Your pregnancy, this child, you yourself are all blessed by God. The Holy Spirit will be upon you and upon your child.

Mary:             I don’t know Gabriel. I don’t understand why God chose me. I’m nothing special—just an ordinary girl. I need to think about this for a bit.

(Gabriel leaves. Mary settles herself to pray)

Mary:             God. I want to understand your plan for me, for this child. It seems strange that you would give your blessing. And yet I have always trusted in you. Will your blessing change the world? Will this baby be the fulfilment of the promises made to our ancestors? 

                        I rejoice in you, God. You are a merciful God. You scatter the proud. You lift up the lowly. You fill the hungry with good things. You send the rich away empty. I rejoice in you, God.

Carol: the world is about to turn.

Humbug:      Bah humbug! No one is coming to rescue us and certainly not a baby born to a teenage girl. You’ve mixed up the stories, I’m sure.

Reader 1:      No. This is the right story. You just haven’t heard the whole thing yet. It will make more sense as the story goes on.

(Mary and Joseph come in and wander around the sanctuary looking for a place to stay)

Reader 3:      So here’s what happened next. Mary and Joseph had to go to Bethlehem because the Roman Emperor wanted to charge everyone a tax. It was a long way from their home and Mary was still pregnant. They walked for many days. When they finally arrived in Bethlehem it was very crowded. There were lots of people everywhere. Everyone’s homes were filled to overflowing. Mary and Joseph wandered throughout the city, knocking on doors and looking for a place to stay. There was nothing.

Reader 1:      Finally, someone offered a bit of room in the back of the house with the animals. Mary and Joseph gratefully accept. Mary went into labour. There’s was great bustling around. A couple of midwives arrived and a new baby was  brought into the world.

(midwives arrive)

Carol: Gentle Mary

Humbug:      Bah Humbug! Really that’s how you know God loves the world—a baby is born in a stable with the animals?

Reader 3:      No. No. No. You’ve missed the point.

Humbug:      Well, what is the point?

Reader 1:      You have to hear the rest of the story….There were shepherds.

Humbug:      Wait, shepherds? I thought this was about a baby.

Reader 3:      Well yes, it’s about a baby. But it’s also about shepherds.

Humbug:      Ok. Ok. Get on with it.

(Shepherds and sheep gather in the middle.)

Shepherd 1: It sure is quiet tonight—and dark. No moon. I can’t see much beyond the reach of this lantern.

Shepherd 2: I hope the sheep are ok. They’re a bit restless which makes me nervous. I wonder what they can sense out there in the darkness?

Shepherd 1: What’s happening? The light! It’s so bright! What’s going on?

Gabriel:         Don’t be afraid.

Shepherd 2: Did you hear that? The voice? I don’t know about you but I’m afraid. I’ve never seen anything like this before.

Shepherd 1: The whole sky is lit up. It isn’t stars or moon or sun. Of course, I’m afraid. What would be giving off all this light?

Shepherd 2: I can almost make out a form, almost human but not quite and it’s glowing. But it isn’t just the light! That voice. It’s coming from within the light.

Shepherd 1: Telling us not to be afraid!  But I am afraid….lights and voices out of the dark. Can you see it too? There it is again!

Shepherd 2: Ok. Let’s get a grip. Take a breath. In….Out…In….Out. Calm. Peace.

Gabriel:         You have nothing to fear! I come to proclaim good news to you—news of a great joy to be shared by the whole people.

Shepherd 1: Good news? What good news?

Gabriel:         The messiah, the anointed one of God is lying in a manger in Bethlehem.

Shepherd 2: Bah Humbug

Humbug:      Wait that’s my line…Bah Humbug!

 Shepherd 2: That can’t be right. I’ve waited my whole life for the messiah to arrive. The messiah is the one who will lead and save the people. The messiah might come as a prince or a general but a baby, in a manger? What kind of good news is that? I guess babies are always good news, a sign of life, but a messiah—I don’t know about that.

Shepherd 1: Look at that…the whole sky lit up like daylight! Can you hear the singing? Wow…Amazing! Just listen!

Sing:  Angels we have heard on high (sheep scatter…..)

Gabriel:         Glory to God in the highest heaven and peace on earth among those God favors!

Shepherd 2: Did you hear it? I heard it clear as a bell! That sweet singing! Can it really be a message from God? I can’t imagine why we’re the ones getting the message, out here in the wilderness. We aren’t welcome at the temple.

Shepherd 1: We definitely aren’t well connected. No one wants to be around us. How can God favour us? Could God’s message really be for us? Could this baby messiah, the anointed one, be for us?

Shepherd 2: It’s possible, I guess. Maybe we should go see if the baby really is in a manger. Come on, let’s gather up the sheep. After all that excitement, they’ve scattered everywhere. It will take us several hours to find them and gather them up again. Then we can go.

(gather the sheep…)

Carol

Shepherd 1: Ah…That was a lot of work collecting all those sheep. I think we found them all. Let’s head out to Bethlehem and see if what we were told is true.

(shepherds and sheep wander around the sanctuary looking for Jesus)

Shepherd 2: I wonder where we should look first…Excuse me…Have you seen a baby in a manger tonight? No…Ok. I guess we’ll just keep looking.

Shepherd 1: Have you seen a baby in a manger? …You have! Where?  Come on! Let’s go!

(Mary, Joseph, and Jesus reappear)

Shepherd 2: Hello. We were told about this baby. Tonight, the sky was filled with light and voices announcing this baby, the messiah, born in a manger.

Shepherd 1: It must be true. Glory to God in the highest heaven and peace on earth among those God favours! Emanuel! God is among us!

Humbug:      Bah humbug! That’s your story—a baby born in a manger, some angels and shepherds?

Reader 1:      Ok. I know you’re skeptical and it seems fantastical but this is the story of how God came among us. It was unexpected and surprising.

Reader 3:      And when the baby Jesus grew up, he became a great healer. He taught people to love and care for each other. Jesus brought comfort and good news. In this little baby, God renewed the covenant made with our ancestors.

Reader 1:      We could go on and on. This is only part of the story of God among us. Let’s leave the other stories for another day. But the point is…this isn’t just a story that happened long ago. This is a story that happens every day. Everyday, Jesus comes among us. Everyday, Jesus brings comfort and healing and peace.

Reader 3:      Everyday we get to choose the openness of Mary and Joseph, the service of the innkeeper and midwives, and the wonder of the shepherds.

Humbug:      Ah…I think I’m starting to get it. This isn’t about a God of the past. This is about a God of the here and now. I sure would have loved to see that baby in the manger.

(Mary brings Jesus over to Humbug)

Reader 1:      Here is God among us.

Hope

This reflection is from the first Sunday of Advent.

Last week we heard about King Josiah who was continued the reforms his great-grandfather had started. The prophet Huldah predicted that Jerusalem would be destroyed. Today, we continue the story with Jeremiah 33:14-18. Josiah died and now Zedekiah is king. The prophet Jeremiah was born during Josiah’s reign. Jeremiah has been telling Zedekiah that Jerusalem will be destroyed. The Babylonians arrived at Jerusalem’s doorstep and now the city is under siege.

Zedekiah didn’t like Jeremiah’s message, so Jeremiah was imprisoned. From his prison cell, Jeremiah laments that God has abandoned Jerusalem, and the city and all its inhabitants will be destroyed. Jeremiah continued to listen for God’s message. This is the message that came to Jeremiah:

“The days are surely coming, says YHWH, when I will bestow on Israel and Judah all the blessings I promised them. In those days and at that time I will raise up a righteous branch from the line of David, who will bring justice and integrity to the land. In those days Judah will be safe and Jerusalem will be secure. They will call the land, ‘YHWH is our Justice.’

Jeremiah 33:14-16 (inclusive translation)

In the midst of a siege, Jeremiah hears a promise of blessing. Jeremiah hears a word that something new will come out of destruction. I imagine that from a prison cell, in a city under siege it is hard to hear and believe a message of hope.

As I write this, I am thinking of the people of Israel and Palestine who are at war. I am thinking of the people of Gaza who are under siege with no escape. When I was in Israel and Palestine in 2008 with Christian Peacemaker Teams (now called Community Peacemaker Teams), Gaza was described to me as an open-air prison because Palestinians who were arrested in Israel were sent to Gaza. Even at that time, during a relative time of peace, access to and from Gaza was tightly controlled. I’m also thinking today of Israelis whose loved ones have been killed by the violence of war and whose communities have also been destroyed.

Where is there a message of hope in this war? Some images from my time there, help me find hope. When I was in Israel and Palestine, we attended a Women in Black protest. Every Friday, a group of Israeli and Palestinian women would gather on the sidewalk at a busy Jerusalem intersection with signs imploring an end to war and violence. They didn’t chant slogans or harass passers-by. They just stood with their signs. While I was there, I witnessed a group of young Israeli women crossing the street. While they waited for the light to change, they were whispering and pointing at the protesters. After the crossed the street, they approached one of the protesters nearby and asked, “Are you pro-Israel or pro-Palestinian?” The woman next to me responded: “Neither, I’m pro-peace.” The young women high-fived everyone nearby and then carried on their way.

One evening we met two men involved with an organization called Bereaved Parents Circle. One of the men was Israeli. One of the men was Palestinian. Both had teenage children who had been killed in the violence. They told the story of how they had each been raised to hate the other’s people. When their children were killed, they each realized that the violence and hatred was killing innocent children. The organization brings together Palestinian and Israeli families to talk about the grief of having their children killed. These two men knew each other well and had a deep friendship. As they talked and told us their stories, they cried together. They comforted each other. They called each other brother. Both admitted that when their children were first killed, along with grief, they were filled with anger and hate. Now they realize that the hate that exists is killing children and that the “other” is not an enemy. They both work for peace.

These are only a couple stories of many people working for peace. There are many other stories like this throughout Palestine and Israel and other places where there is on-going conflict. We might find it hard to see hope. I imagine being right in the midst of the violence makes it even more challenging to see the hope of what the future might be. When all you see is death and destruction, hate and violence, how can peace, love and hope take root?

As Christians, when we hear the passage from Jeremiah, we almost immediately jump to Jesus. But let’s take Jesus out of it for a moment. Jesus wasn’t on the radar of the writer Jeremiah. God is promising there will be a time of blessing. There will be justice and integrity. There will be safety and security. They will call the land, “YHWH is our justice.” Those are pretty big promises. Can we trust promises that are 2600 years old?

If either side “wins” this war in Israel and Palestine, there is no justice in the land. Winning automatically means someone else loses. One side will gain territory, power, control. The other side will lose territory, autonomy, power. There is no justice in war. As the war continues, everyone is losing. Loved ones are dying. Soldiers and their families are being scarred by the experiences. Communities are being destroyed.

Whatever solution comes to this conflict, it needs to have justice, integrity, safety and security. This is the message of hope that Jeremiah offered. There are people taking concrete steps towards that hope. It begins by seeing the enemy as human. As with the families in the bereaved family circle, the recognition that grief is a universal human experience creates an opportunity to see the enemy as human. That connection builds relationship. It is out of relationship, out of care and concern for someone else that justice, integrity, safety and security can take root. Relationships build trust and they require trust. I always feel this is a bit of a chicken and egg thing. You build trust by being in relationship with others and yet you can’t build a relationship without trust. Who lays down their weapons first? Until someone says. “We have to stop,” nothing will change. But taking that risk requires vulnerability and could mean more violence and destruction. And yet nothing will change until someone says, “Enough.” When we can say no to the violence of war, then the promise of justice in the land can be fulfilled.

And in the meantime, we wait. Waiting isn’t just sitting quietly and twiddling out thumbs. Waiting is an active hope. Waiting is about acting now, so things will change in the future. One more story from Palestine. We stayed with a family in a refugee camp outside of Bethlehem. The man we stayed with was a third-generation refugee. He was involved in working for peace. He wasn’t simply waiting for peace to happen. He was actively engaged in creating peace, but he also knew he wouldn’t see the results. His work for peace mattered so his grandchildren and great-grandchildren would see change.

And that is the reality of hope. When we hope, we actively create the future God promises so that generations to come will experience the future God promises. Hope allows us to dream big and work in small ways for God’s future. When we hope, we will be less overwhelmed by the violence and hatred because we will have the vision of God’s promise to dream about and focus on. While we wait for that future to arrive we are engaged in meaningful work in the here and now.

We become part of the promise of God. We become the future that God is waiting for. While we hope for God’s promise, God hopes for us to fulfil the promise. We remember that God works in us and others. We remember that God calls us to seek justice and resist evil. We remember that God is our hope.

Christ the King

This is Christ the King Sunday. It is the last Sunday of this church year. Next week, the first Sunday of Advent. We begin a new year. Just like January 1st is a good time to take stock of life, the new church year is also a good time to reflect on what it means to be people of faith and how we live our faith every day.

The first reading, from Ephesians, reminds us that we are the body of Christ—all of us together. We cannot be the body of Christ in isolation. That’s why we gather in churches and other communities of faith. And as we gather in communities, we offer our care for each other, and we pray for each other. We pray for God’s work in the world. We remember that when we come together, God can do amazing things through us and others. We remember—not only that God is with us—but that we are surrounded by whole communities of people on similar journeys.

Community is very important in our faith. Throughout scripture God speaks to individuals but there is always a message for the wider community. Sometimes it is a promise that stretches across generations. Sometimes it is a call to live faithfully. But these messages from God always connect back to a larger group of people. Today’s scripture from 2 Kings continues that tradition.

We heard about King Josiah. King Josiah’s great-grandfather Hezekiah began religious reforms. Hezekiah was followed by his son and grandson—two of the worst Kings in Israel’s history. They were definitely not committed to being faithful or to the covenant with God. Josiah picked up where his great-grandfather left off. He tried hard to be faithful and to lead in a good way. During the restoration of the temple, a book—probably part of what we know as Deuteronomy—was discovered. Many believed it was hidden so that the kings between Hezekiah and Josiah didn’t find and destroy it.

When this book is discovered, there is great distress. Even though Josiah has been trying to get on the right track, he hasn’t quite made it yet. The prophet Huldah tells Josiah that the kingdom will be destroyed. Because he was filled with remorse, Josiah will be spared. One of the things I find interesting about this is that even though Josiah was king, the responsibility for what was happening in the nation rested with more than just Josiah. It was also the responsibility of his advisors and even ordinary people to live faithfully. Somewhere between Hezekiah and Josiah the covenant, and all that entails, was forgotten.

Today we remember the covenant made with our ancestors in faith. We remember the commands to love and serve God. We remember that by serving others and caring for the most vulnerable with serve God. We remember God’s call to justice and compassion. We remember the prophets’ call to peace. We remember that the covenant is not for an individual but for the whole community of God’s people.

As we prepare for Advent next Sunday, we wait for Christ’s coming among us. Jesus renewed the covenant that was made with ancient Israel. So, as we enter this new church season, you are invited to renew your covenant with the risen Christ. It’s somewhat like making New Year’s resolutions but these commitments relate to our faith.

The discipleship flower includes six discipleship practices which you are invited to deepen over the next year.. Because we are coming up to Christmas, these look a bit like a poinsettia. If you would like to print your own copies click here.

I’d like you to take some time and reflect on each petal: prayer, loving service, worship, Bible study, generosity, and sharing faith. Examples of things you might commit to include –regular prayer, reflection, or meditation practice. You might commit to volunteering your time with a ministry here at St. Andrew’s or with another organization that serves the community. You might commit to attending worship on a regular basis or finding ways to share your gifts during worship. You might join a Bible study to deepen your understanding of scripture and how it relates to your life. You might commit to regularly making financial offerings or increasing financial support of St. Andrew’s. You might commit to supporting many ministries through Mission and Service. Finally, you might commit to talking about your faith or inviting someone to come and see why being part of a faith community is important. There are many other resolutions you can make.

During the Advent season, we will be placing the poinsettias around the sanctuary to remind ourselves that there are many people on this journey with us.

These commitments take our community of faith into the new church year. They deepen our faith and our connection and commitment to each other and to the God that we serve in the world.

The Hopeless Gardner

I love how this passage from Isaiah 5 starts:

Let me now sing of my friend—
it is a love song about a vineyard.

Isaiah 5:1

This passage is going to be a love story. And we hear the love story unfold…

My friend had a vineyard
on a fertile hillside.
My friend dug the soil, cleared the stones,
and planted the choicest vines;

Isaiah 5:1-2

You might imagine a gardener who loves their garden. We all know people who look forward to the hours spent tending plants, watering, pruning, talking to plants, watching them grow and thrive. They’ve done everything they can to ensure the plants thrive so they look forward to a good harvest.

And God planted God’s people in a garden. We remember all the way back to the creation story. God’s people were planted in a garden. The garden contained everything needed for a thriving creation. And then the story takes a twist. The people went off did their own thing and ended up leaving the thriving garden.

God tried again and again to recreate a thriving creation and a thriving humanity. God made a covenant with humans which was broken over and over again. God sent leaders and prophets to bring people back to the covenant. In this passage we hear God’s frustration:

What more could I have done for my vineyard
that I haven’t done?
Why, when I looked for the crop of grapes,
did it bring forth bad fruit?

iSAIAH 5:4

God has thrown up their hands in frustration and is ready to walk away. God says:

I will take away its hedge, give it over to grazing,
break through its wall, let it be trampled!
I will let it go to wilderness; it will not be pruned or hoed,
but overgrown with thorns and briars.
I will command the clouds not to send rain upon it.”

iSAIAH 5:5-6

Imagine how devastated God must be to give up on the garden. This is a garden that was planted with high hopes. Think of all the work that went into tending it. All the work just to walk away. What started out as a love story, filled with adoration and hope has disintegrated to a point where God is ready to walk away.

At the moment when Isaiah is written, the relationship between God and God’s people is at a low point.

YHWH looked for justice, but found bloodshed;
for righteousness, but found only a cry of suffering.

iSAIAH 5:7

There’s a sense of hopelessness to this passage. Why would God even bother to tend the garden of humanity anymore if all that will come, is violence and injustice? At some point, the gardener must ask what they are doing wrong. Gardeners try to figure out what a particular plant needs to thrive—more water, less light, fertilizer, more heat, less shade and on and on. They research and try different things until they discover what is best for that particular plant.

And God has tried everything they can think of and is now throwing their hands up in frustration. God might look around now and continue to wonder what went wrong. Humans were given everything they needed to thrive and still the world is filled with violence, poverty, the earth itself is being destroyed.

But the writer of Isaiah doesn’t leave us in hopelessness. Isaiah 11 offers us hope. Earlier in the fall we heard about King David who was Jesse’s son. The writer of Isaiah can see that things are bad, and they are going to get worse before they get better. David’s kingdom will be destroyed but from that destruction—the stump of Jesse, something new will come. A new leader will arise. And the writer gives a description of what this new leader will look like:

The Spirit of YHWH will rest on you—
a spirit of wisdom and understanding,
a spirit of counsel and strength,
a spirit of knowledge and reverence for YHWH.
You will delight in obeying YHWH,
and you won’t judge by appearances,
or make decisions by hearsay.
You will treat poor people with fairness
and will uphold the rights of the land’s downtrodden.
With a single word you will strike down tyrants;
with your decrees you will execute evil people.
Justice will be the belt around this your waist—
faithfulness will gird you up.

Isaiah 11:2-5

As Christians, we often associate this passage with Jesus. Jesus was certainly filled with God’s spirit. Jesus carried wisdom understanding, a knowledge of and reverence for God. Jesus was quite prepared to be obedient to God even though it resulted in his death. Jesus expanded the boundaries of God’s love and brought in the people who had previously been left out. Jesus challenged the structures that oppressed.

Jesus didn’t set out to start a new religion. Jesus really wanted people to return to the original covenant with God—the one intended to create a thriving humanity and a thriving earth. Jesus started the work of restoring the covenant and the work is incomplete. Humans are always given the choice: do we want to be the garden that God walks away from in frustration, or the garden that God tends and treasures?

Jesus, and the prophets like Isaiah, believed that humans could again be the garden that God tends with love and adores. In order to thrive we must renew the covenant God made with our ancestors. We are called to reaffirm our commitment to God as the one we worship—not power, might or wealth. God. We are called to reaffirm our commitment to caring for the most vulnerable among us—the people, the creatures, the earth itself. We are called to be part of a thriving garden—not separate, not the most glorious plant in the garden—just part of a garden that thrives because everything else in the garden thrives too. We cannot thrive as we were meant to unless the whole garden thrives.

Our Christian faith has a constant rhythm of death and resurrection. David’s line of kings died out and from that death, a new leader arose. We are again at a turning point where something needs to die so new life can come forth. Hate and violence need to die so that love, compassion, and justice can thrive. When these thrive, God’s garden will again thrive.

Remembrance Day

This weekend, we mark Remembrance day and Indigenous Veterans Day. We remember historic wars, people who were killed, people who returned—changed forever. We remember families impacted by these losses and changed loved ones. We gather to pray for peace so that no one will ever experience such devastating violence again.

We look around our world right now and see so many places where war continues to happen. We watch as communities are destroyed. We see refugees fleeing and seeking safety. And we hope and pray for a changed world. Psalm 91 reminds us of God’s presence and the ways we can rely on God as a rock and a refuge in the midst of violence and destruction. The psalm reminds us of God’s presence in the midst of violence and everything that entails. The psalm offers a very graphic image of a battlefield, including the death of friends. The psalm doesn’t gloss over the very real consequences of war.

The other reading comes from the prophet Hosea. (if you want a great overview of Hosea, check out the Bible Project.) We don’t hear from Hosea very often, but Hosea speaks to the war-torn world in which we find ourselves. Hosea writes about the relationship between God and God’s people. Hosea’s premise is that when God’s people break the covenant, they are destroyed by violence and war. Hosea brings hope in reminding people that God is a God of love, compassion and faithfulness even when we humans head off in our own direction.

The book of Hosea goes something like this. Hosea begins by telling the story of his marriage to Gomar. According to the story they had three children, but Gomar was unfaithful. Hosea has a choice—let Gomar go or do whatever it takes to win her back. Here’s the thing. Hosea isn’t talking about his own marriage. Hosea is using this as a way of describing what’s happening between God and God’s people. God and God’s people have entered into a covenant by receiving the Ten Commandments, committing to a just society and being faithful to God. But what’s happened is that the people have forgotten the Ten Commandments, they have forgotten to create a just society and they have chosen to worship Ba’al and other gods. According to Hosea, when the Hebrew people entered the promised land, they took what they wanted, enjoyed their new life, prosperity and abundance and forgot about the God who brought them out of Egypt.

We saw last week how the worship of Ba’al resulted in drought. Even though Elijah was able to end the drought, people returned to worshiping God, but it was a temporary blip and in Hosea’s time, the people have forgotten God again.

Hosea is forecasting the dire consequences of continuing the path of worshiping other Gods. Internally, the nation is in disarray because of the injustices and the breaking of the commandments. Externally, the nation is dependant on the military might and support of Assyria and Egypt. Rather than place their trust in God, the people have chosen to place their trust in military might and in keeping the peace with unjust and more powerful neighbours. Thsi backfires as Assyria invades and destroys Israel.

That’s the context for the passage we heard this morning. Throughout history, God has called and called to the people. God has expressed love and compassion and yet people turn away. There’s an image of God as a parent—loving a child, teaching them to walk, caring for them and providing everything they need to flourish. And then God watches in anguish as the child does their own thing. God can see the destruction of war coming.

And then we hear God crying out:

How can I abandon you, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? My heart is aching within me; I am burning with compassion! No, I can’t do it! I cannot act on my righteous anger! I will not turn around and destroy Ephraim! For I am God—no mere mortal— the Holy One who walks among you!

Hosea 11:8-9

All of the places God is lamenting over were violently destroyed. Ephraim and Israel are the kingdoms made up of the tribes of Israel—destroyed by invading forces. Admah and Zeboiim were collateral damage when Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed—and no one remembers them. But God does. God remembers all who are destroyed by violence.

And then we hear God’s aching heart, the heartbrokenness of a God who loves the world. God is burning with compassion. That compassion will not allow God to walk away from a world that is self-destructing. God will not complete the destruction.

God is God. God is the Holy One who walks among us. And so, when we look at the wars unfolding in our world today, we remember that these wars are not happening in isolation. Wars are a natural consequence of humans forgetting the commandments to love and serve God, and to love and serve each other. We’ve forgotten to create just societies and have come to rely more on military might, and the power of greed rather than being faithful to the covenant with God. But God hasn’t forgotten the covenant. And God refuses to walk away.

God has been present throughout human history, sending prophets to call us back to God’s covenant. We see the prophets all through scripture reminding us again and again that a broken covenant with God leads to destruction. Being faithful to the covenant leads to life.

I don’t see the destruction as punishment but as a consequence of human behaviour. People caught up in wars—like in the Ukraine, Russia, Palestine, or Israel are not being punished. The consequences of human decisions to worship wealth, violence, and power continue to create situations where people and communities are destroyed.

And God does not abandon us to ourselves. God stands firm in the face of violence and is the rock and refuge in whom we place our trust. Living into the covenant with God requires knowledge of God. In the Hebrew, knowledge is not primarily intellectual. Knowledge requires a relationship. It isn’t enough to say that we have read the Bible or thought about God. That’s a good start but unless learning about God draws us into a relationship with God, we cannot fulfil our part of the covenant.

God has committed to keeping the covenant, so again, it is our turn to return to the covenant. It is our turn to keep the commandments, create just societies and truly worship God in doing these things. That is where we find hope in a world that is often overwhelmingly filled with violence.

We remember all those who live with the reality of war. We remember people whose families and communities are torn apart and destroyed. We remember soldiers experiencing the horror of war. We remember that war and violence are not God’s intent for the world. We remember that God’s intent for the world is love, compassion, and justice. We remember that we are called to be full participants in knowing God and living into the covenant established so many generations ago. We remember that God will not abandon us.

Who Do We Choose?

I want to begin by putting the story of Elijah and Ba’al in context. This story takes place in the midst of drought and famine. We are told earlier in the story that the famine is so dire that king Ahab along with the palace overseer, Obadiah, travel all over the country looking in the valleys and along streams and collecting whatever grass they can find so that they can keep the horses and mules alive. And the text is specific that Ahab went in one direction by himself, and Obadiah went in another. This is drastic measures—the king himself is travelling throughout the land, alone, looking for food for the animals. The normal response of a king should be to send all the servants out to do this task. It makes me wonder if there was so little food that a whole group of people travelling the land wouldn’t survive. If only two people were out looking for food, how much would they be able to carry back with them? It seems they don’t anticipate finding much.

While they are out looking for food for the animals, Obadiah runs into Elijah. Ahab had chosen to worship his wife Jezabel’s god Ba’al. Elijah has been in hiding along with everyone else who believed in God. It turns out that Obadiah was also a follower of God. When Elijah and Obadiah meet, Elijah tells Obadiah to announce his presence so that Elijah can talk to Ahab.

When Ahab sees Eljah he says, “Is it really you—Israel’s troublemaker?”

That question got me thinking, who are the troublemakers? Are the troublemakers the prophets, like Elijah, who challenge what’s wrong in their country’s leadership? Or are the troublemakers the leaders who lead without regard for the most vulnerable?

Way back when this famine started, God was clear that the drought and famine was a direct result of Ahab leading the people to worship Ba’al. Ahab was heading down the wrong path and he knew it. He tried to silence God’s prophets by having them killed. Obadiah hid a hundred of God’s prophets in the caves and made sure they had food and water. Elijah hid in the wilderness too. So, who is the troublemaker? Is it Ahab and the prophets of Ba’al or Elijah? From our vantage point, it’s probably no contest. Of course, the trouble maker is Ahab, his worship of Ba’al and all the priests who support that regime and keep Ahab in power for their own benefit. Of course, Ahab who silences and tries to kill the dissenters is the troublemaker.

I remember, when I was a teenager, someone saying to me that protesters should get out of the way and let those who know best get on with governing. There was a sense in the comment that the protesters were the troublemakers—just like King Ahab thought Elijah was the troublemaker. Are the troublemakers those who create the injustice or those who call attention to it? Are the troublemakers those who do what is comfortable, popular, convenient? Are the troublemakers those who annoy governments by constantly challenging the policies and practices that put the most vulnerable people and most vulnerable parts of our planet at risk.

So, think about our own context. Who are the troublemakers? Do we consider governments that resist the science of climate change and who put profits ahead of the creation as troublemakers or do we see climate protesters and activists as the troublemakers?

When we think about the families in Manitoba that know there are women buried in the Winnipeg landfill, who are the troublemakers? Is it a government that refused to search the landfill or the families who are calling attention to the lack of respect for their family members?

When we think about what’s happened in Saskatchewan recently, are the troublemakers those who want to protect transgender, non-binary, two-spirit and gender-diverse youth or a government that refuses to listen to diverse perspectives and supports the loudest voice?

When we watch the war unfolding in the Middle East, are the troublemakers the Palestinians who are resisting the occupation of their land, or the Israelis who want their own homeland, and couch their actions in protecting themselves. This is a complicated situation with lots of history. At this point, it becomes challenging to decide who is the original “troublemaker.” Both sides have engaged in violence and both Israelis and Palestinians speak of the need to protect themselves. Figuring out who has more claim to grievance isn’t going to move towards peace or prevent more bloodshed. There are troublemakers and peacemakers on both sides of this conflict.

In the story of Elijah, it is interesting to me, both Eljah and King Ahab see the other as the troublemaker and the source of what’s wrong with their society. If you look at any of the situations I’ve identified above, each group will see the other as the troublemaker.

I suspect that both King Ahab and Elijah wanted the drought to end. That’s where they could find their common ground, but they had different ideas about how to make that happen. King’s Ahab’s response to the drought was to make sure the animals survived, even if that meant he had to go and find grass for them to eat. I find it interesting that King Ahab doesn’t mention the people who are starving. He was their king and yet he was more concerned about his animals than the people that had been entrusted to him. Elijah on the other hand, sees that the way out of the drought is returning to the worship of God. With the worship of God, comes the concern for making sure the most vulnerable find enough food and will survive.

And that’s where Elijah sees his opportunity to shift the conversation. For Elijah, this isn’t really about the drought. The drought is the outcome of worshiping something that doesn’t give life. And Elijah wants to demonstrate this. Elijah tells all the gathered people they need to make a choice—Ba’al or God.

Elijah organizes a showdown. There are two alters built. Two sacrifices are prepared. Elijah vs the 450 prophets of Ba’al. The first one to get fire from their God wins. The prophets of Ba’al get a head start. They chant and they dance. They cut themselves so that there is blood added to the sacrifice. Nothing happens. Elijah joins the party. Remember that this is the middle of a drought. Elijah asks for four jars of water. These are not little canning jars, but jugs used for storing water. During a drought this is a precious commodity. Elijah asks for more water. Then he asks again. By the time Elijah is done, he has used twelve jugs of water.

I can imagine people standing around watching him—first curiously, then maybe with anger as he wastes the precious water, and by the time Elijah is done, laughing at him as he plans to light a fire. Anyone every tried to light wet firewood? Once when we were camping, it had been raining. When the rain finally let up, I decided it was time for a fire. What’s the point of camping without a fire? I was a Girl Guide. I knew how to light a fire with damp wood! Six hours later, Roland headed off for a walk and I was still trying to light the fire.

With all this water that Elijah had dumped on the sacrifice and the wood, there was no way a fire was going to happen. And Elijah prays and fire appears. That was enough to convince the gathered people that God was indeed God. Elijah follows this up by having all the prophets of Ba’al killed—not the best way to deal with dissenters. And then the rain came, and the drought was over. Jezebel then threatens Elijah, and he flees into the wilderness to hide. Even with the drought over, Jezabel continued to worship Ba’al.

With all the drama that Elijah created, there was a very clear choice—Ba’al or God. There are consequences for what we worship. When we worship power, greed, individualism, or violence, we choose not to worship God. We are choosing to worship ways of being that separate us and force us into us and them mentalities.

When I talk about worshipping God, I am not talking about a God who is specifically Christian. The major religions of the world all speak about care for the most vulnerable, care for the creation, peace for our own spirits, peace for the world. There are people identify as atheist or agnostic or humanist that have deep concern for vulnerable people and for our planet. Worshiping God isn’t about the name we use, or the place we worship. Worshiping God is about an attitude of concern for the whole world around us with particular concern for a vulnerable planet and vulnerable people. That’s where we find our common ground. Many of the bad things we see in the world around us are the outcomes of choosing Ba’al (or some other god) over God. I want to be clear–this is not punishment by God but an outcome of choices that humans make.

Back to the question of the troublemakers. Troublemakers like Elijah play an important role in our society. Troublemakers provide an opportunity to reflect on how the society aligns with God’s purpose (or not). When the society gets off track, troublemakers are there to help refocus and draw attention back to God’s concern for the most vulnerable.

Faithful troublemakers can claim a long line of ancestors who called attention to all sorts of injustices. As I reflect on Elijah’s story, I wonder how our community of faith could be a community of troublemakers. I think our world needs troublemakers who can refocus our attention on care and concern, compassion, justice, peace, and equity. Can we claim an identity of troublemakers who help bring God’s love to the world?

What Kind of Leader

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the ten commandments. Those commandments were written on stone. Those stones were placed in an ark—an ornate box and carried around the wilderness with the Hebrew people. When they stopped, the ark was placed inside a “tent of meeting.”

As they travelled, the ark was not at the front of the procession but at the center. It was a reminder of God’s presence in the middle of the people. When the Hebrew people settled in the 12 tribes, the “tent of meeting” with the ark of the covenant rotated through the various tribes. Eventually, the ark was captured by the Philistines in a battle. The Philistines became ill, and mice destroyed their grain stocks. The Philistines sent the ark back to the Israelites because they were afraid of it. The ark remained in one place for about twenty years.

And now the faith story shifts to David in 2nd Samuel. David is an interesting character and, in some ways, an odd choice for God’s chosen leader. We might remember from our Sunday School days, how David was chosen by Samuel to be king after Saul. All his older brothers were paraded in front of Samuel but it was the youngest and smallest who was chosen. We might remember the story of how David killed Goliath with a slingshot. We think of David as the writer of psalms. We remember David, as in these passages dancing before God.

After David was anointed by Samuel, he went to serve King Saul as a musician. As David grew up, he became a threat to Saul and so fled into the wilderness to escape Saul. Saul and his son Johnathan were killed in battle. David promptly killed the messenger who brought him this news. The first passage we heard from the book of Samuel, tells the story of when the tribe of Judah approached David and crowned him with Saul’s crown. David became the leader of Judah. Then David decides to expand his empire. He conquers Jerusalem and decides to build a permanent temple in Jerusalem and bring the Ark of the Covenant to that temple.

David didn’t choose Jerusalem because of its religious significance. He chose it because it was politically expedient. David brought the Ark to Jerusalem as a sign of the unity between Judah and all the other tribes of Israel. When this happens, there is dancing and celebration. This is the 2nd part of the reading. It goes on to tell a story about David’s wife, Michal who was Saul’s daughter. David had paid a dowery (by killing 100 Philistines) for her, but Saul married her to someone else. David decided he wanted her anyway, paid for her again and took her from her husband. While everyone was celebrating David, Michal was watching from a balcony.

Their exchange goes like this: “Well, didn’t the ruler of Israel put on a show of dignity today—exposing himself in front of his servants’ handmaids as any vulgar clown might expose himself!”

David replied, “But it was done in the presence of YHWH, who chose me instead of your father and your family by appointing me ruler over Israel, the people of YHWH. Yes, I will dance for joy before YHWH. And I’m sure I will earn even more disgrace and demean myself further in your eyes. But those handmaids of whom you speak—they will honor me for it.” (2nd Samuel 6:20-22 Inclusive Translation)

There is a pettiness and callousness in this exchange. By this time in the story, David has been associated with many murders and much stolen and plundered property—all the while proclaiming his innocence. Further on in the story we hear about Uriah and Bathsheba. David decides he wants Bathsheeba so he sends her husband Uriah into battle, planning for him to be killed so that he can have Bathsheeba.

Throughout the stories about David, he creates just enough goodwill that people adore him. For example, when the ark is brought to Jerusalem, David gives everyone bread, a date cake and a raisin cake. Who doesn’t like a king who feeds them?

I often wonder why David is lifted up as an ideal king. David is politically astute but as his reign unfolds it becomes more about feeding his ego, his desires, his gratification, his glory. Even though David’s reign has centred on uniting people around the ark of the covenant, he seems to have forgotten the commandments inside the ark, or maybe he just feels that as the king, the rules don’t apply to him.

While David seems to be praising God, he is also worshiping power and wealth. David has killed or had many people killed. He has committed adultery. He has stolen. He has lied. He has coveted. David likes the unifying idea of a religion, but he struggles with making good choices that are in alignment with what his faith teaches. I feel like David’s wife Michal sees through him to what he really is. She recognizes that David has gotten lost in his power and self-aggrandizement.

As we look at many leaders in the world today, I wonder how they would stack up to David. There are lots of stories (some proven, some rumours) about leaders who authorize assassinations and leaders who make sure their opponents are silenced or disappeared. There are leaders, former leaders, and potential leaders who are accused (and sometimes convicted) of corruption, bribery, human rights violations, and sexual assault among many things. They’ve followed right along in David’s path.

When Jesus comes along, we are told that he is of David’s line. So, does Jesus follow David’s example? No. Jesus leads in a way that is completely counter-intuitive to David’s example. Jesus doesn’t go around killing people, he is killed. Jesus doesn’t take from others, he gives to others. Jesus doesn’t engage in corruption but calls it out. Jesus doesn’t claim sexual assault as a right of his position, he accuses the abusers and helps the women involved find new life.

When I look around the world today, the David energy that abuses power, places individual rights above the needs of the community, and seeks to exclude rather than include is very obvious but there are people in our world trying to harness the Jesus energy rather than the David energy. The Jesus energy is kind and compassionate and serves the whole society. It understands that we are all connected and that when one person suffers, we all suffer. The Jesus energy tries to alleviate suffering rather than create it.

Most of us are not going to run for political office but we do have the opportunity to shape our community and our country and our world. In our communities, we need to bring our own Jesus energy and channel the spirit of compassion that Jesus modelled for us. How do we make sure people are safe? How do we make sure people have access to the resources they need to thrive? How do we care for the people around us? In every situation, we need to choose the response that most closely resembles Jesus. In a wider sense, when deciding which candidates to support, we might ask ourselves, ‘Do these leaders look more like David or Jesus’?

Today we celebrated baptism. In our baptism service, we ask two questions that remind us of our commitment to the way of Jesus.

Do you believe in God, Source of love;
in Jesus Christ, love incarnate;
and in the Holy Spirit, love’s power.

In other words, do you believe that love is alive in the world? Do you believe that love can transform our lives and the world?

And the second question:

Will you follow in the way of Jesus Christ,
resisting oppression and evil, seeking justice,
and witnessing to God’s love for all creation?

That’s our commitment to a way of life following Jesus. With baptism, and confirmation, and in an ongoing way, we commit ourselves to resisting oppression and evil. We commit ourselves to seeking justice. We commit ourselves to sharing that love with all of creation.

So much of our world affirms the David energy of power and might. It can be hard work to stand in opposition to the abuse of power and the violence we see in our world. It can be hard to have hope and believe that the Jesus energy is stronger and more powerful. And that is why we affirm over and over again that we believe in a God of love. We affirm that we follow in the way of Jesus Christ, resisting oppression and evil, seeking justice and witnessing to God’s love.

Belonging

We heard part of the story of Ruth and Naomi today. This book of the Bible is named after Ruth who was a Moabite. It’s interesting that one of the books of the Hebrew Bible was named after a foreigner.

A bit of background about the Moabites and Hebrews:

After Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed, Lot and his daughters hid in a cave. The daughters knew that they would not be able to marry, so they got Lot drunk and made sure they got pregnant. The Moabites are descendants of the oldest daughter. You can find this story in Genesis.

When the Israelites are escaping from Egypt and they go through Moab, the Moabites offer curses. Then some of the Hebrews are tempted into worshipping the Moabite god, Baal and there are relationships between the Hebrew men and the Moabite women. You can read these stories in Numbers 22-25.

As a result of this history, the Book of Deuteronomy is clear that Moabites will not be allowed to be part of the Hebrew community and that “you shall never promote their welfare or their prosperity as long as you live.”

This history makes it very surprising that a Hebrew family would travel to Moab to escape famine. Why would the family go to Moab? There isn’t a good relationship between the two nations, so Moab seems like an odd choice as a place of refuge. Why should the bounty of Moab be shared with the enemy Hebrews? And yet, over time, Naomi’s family is accepted enough in Moab to arrange two intermarriages.

Then, all the men in the family die. The women are left on their own—no security, no protection. Naomi decides the best thing for her is to return to Judah. It’s where she belongs, and she has family there. So, she packs up her meagre belongings—whatever she can carry and sets out for home. Naomi knows that her daughters-in-law don’t belong with her, nor do they belong in Judah. The best place for them is at home, with their parents, where they can wait for new husbands to give them security. Orpah agrees this is for the best and returns to her family home. Ruth takes a different path. She decides that her home is wherever Naomi is.

“Please don’t ask me to leave you and turn away from your company. I swear to you: Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people will be my people, And your God, My God. Where you die, I’ll die there too And I will be buried there beside you.
I swear—may YHWH be my witness and judge—that not even death will keep us apart.”

Ruth 1:17

Ruth decides that she belongs wherever Naomi is. What does it mean to belong? I’m always very slow at making friends and feeling like I belong to a particular group. I was in my third year of ministry training, I looked around the circle one morning and realized I had friends in that circle. That was a revelation to me. We’d been through a lot together. Talked about our theology, our faith, and our personal lives. We shared accommodation when we travelled to Winnipeg for learning circles. It still took me three years to know I belonged with that group of people.

When did Naomi belong in Moab? Was it when they arrived and asked for food? They might have just been seen as foreign beggars. Did Naomi belong in Moab when the family was accepted enough to arrange marriages for the sons? After ten years, when Naomi’s husband and sons died, did she belong? Did that community reach out and enfold her with their care?

Even though Naomi might have been able to function in the Moabite community, the fact that she felt the need to leave suggests that it didn’t feel like home and that it didn’t feel like the place she belonged. Naomi knows what it’s like, not to belong and she doesn’t want that for her daughters-in-law. Naomi wants them to have a sense of home and the opportunity for a new family which she doesn’t think they will get if they return to her home. Ruth sees herself as belonging with Naomi and so she offers well-known words. “Where you go, I will go.” Ruth’s sense of belonging isn’t necessarily tied to a particular place. It is tied to Naomi herself.

Following this part of the story, Naomi and Ruth return to Bethlehem which is Naomi’s home. Now it is Ruth’s turn to be the outsider. When they returned to Bethlehem, “the town was abuzz with gossip because of them.” That’s definitely a sign of being an outsider. How many of us have experienced being gossiped about?

Naomi knew the Jewish law and knew that her husband’s family had responsibility for her and for her son’s widow. They were able to persuade one of Elimelech’s relatives, Boaz, to marry Ruth. Ruth and Naomi become part of Boaz family. When Boaz agrees to marry Ruth, the community says this:

“May YHWH make Ruth,
Who is about to come into your home,
To be like Rachel and Leah,
The two who built up the family of Israel.”

Ruth 4:11

Ruth is compared to Jacob’s wives. These are matriarchs of the family. Ruth, a foreign woman, is now central to the continuation of the Hebrew line. Ruth is named as one of King David’s ancestors and, eventually, named in Matthew’s version of Jesus’ genealogy. This outsider belongs to the family of faith.

This summer when I was in Minneapolis, one of the outings from the conference was to San Pablo Lutheran Church. San Pablo started as a Swedish Lutheran community and functioned primarily in Swedish. Over the years, the language of choice shifted to English. In recent times, the church has found itself in a primarily Latino neighbourhood. Many congregants only speak Spanish. Many congregants are undocumented, and many are transient. This community of faith has had to think long and hard about what it means to belong.

They commissioned a photographer to take pictures of people in their community of faith. Each person was asked how they knew they belonged. They blew these pictures up on canvas and placed them around their sanctuary. Some quotes are in Spanish, and some are in English. You can find the gallery of pictures here.

What helps you to feel like you belong? What are the barriers to belonging?

As a community of faith, we say everyone is welcome, but does everyone belong? What’s the difference between welcoming and belonging? Welcome conjures up, in my mind, an image that everyone will be pleasant and nice to each other. Oxford Dictionary says that welcome means to “greet someone in a glad, polite or friendly way.” We’re a mostly friendly, welcoming bunch but that doesn’t necessarily mean everyone feels like they belong.

Belonging carries a deeper sense of connection. Belonging includes a feeling that people matter to one another. Naomi and Ruth mattered to each other. They belonged to each other—not in the sense of ownership but in a sense of responsibility towards one another and care and concern for each other’s well-being. Naomi and Ruth stuck with each other even when their communities might have discouraged their connection.

One of the things that stood out for me as I visited the San Pablo community of faith, was the ways they were intentional about making sure that both Spanish and English speakers felt like they belonged. Their pastor would preach a bit in Spanish and then repeat in English. During worship, anything that is said in one language is printed in the other. Signage around the building is in Spanish and English. At their meetings, they make sure there are people to translate conversations so that people can participate in their own language. It would be much easier to just operate in one language but they are committed to belonging—not just welcoming but belonging. Belonging means really seeing each other and doing the work to make sure that everyone sees themselves reflected, can engage in their own language, and participate fully.

San Pablo sees itself as belonging to the community around it. They are responsive to the needs of the community. They started a mural project in a very rundown neighbourhood. They offer a free medical clinic several days a week with no questions asked about identity or belonging. They provide space for community gardens. The community claims the church as its own.

How does your church claim the community around it? What are our barriers to belonging to the wider community?

With distrust of others and divisiveness becoming more vocal, helping people feel like they belong is important—not just for our community of faith but for the wider community. How do we help everyone feel like they belong? Being friendly and welcoming is a good start, but it doesn’t go deep enough. Both Naomi and Ruth needed to cross boundaries in order to find belonging. It is much easier to stay in our comfort zone and not talk about what’s really on in our hearts and minds. But when we stick only to friendly conversation, we miss the opportunity to be seen and heard. We miss the opportunity to belong. It is easier to stick with people who look, sound, or act like us. It takes some effort to build connections outside our own groups and yet by doing that, we open up possibilities of belonging—for ourselves and for others. My invitation is to consider where you feel like you belong. Wherever that connection is, nurture it and extend the invitation to belong to someone else.

Thanksgiving in an Age of Consumerism

Last week, Moses was preparing to lead the people out of Egypt. Since then, Moses received the 10 commandments, which were promptly broken by creating and worshiping a golden calf. As a result, Moses and the people have wandered in the wilderness for forty years. Deuteronomy is primarily made up of Moses’ farewell speeches. At the end of Deuteronomy, Moses dies just before the rest of the community enters a new land.

The people who originally left Egypt have mostly died. Moses is speaking to their children and grandchildren. In this particular passage, from Deuteronomy Moses repeats the 10 commandments that we find in Exodus. Moses begins by reminding people that the covenant was not made “with the ancestors, but with us, who are yet living today.” He reminds this new group of people that the covenant was not just for their parents’ generation. It is for their generation and all the generations yet to come. That includes us. The covenant extends into the future for us and for our descendants.

Many of us memorized the ten commandments as children. I learned them as rules to obey. The passage includes the idea that if we don’t obey God will punish us. That bit was downplayed but I still absorbed it. At this point in my life, I don’t believe in a God who punishes. I believe in a God who loves us unconditionally and continually gives us opportunities to learn and try to get it right.

So if God doesn’t punish us for breaking the ten commandments so what is the point of obeying them? Kathryn M. Schifferdecker writes that “scripture seeks to inform, but even more, to transform, to invite us to enter into the story of God and Israel, and the story of Christ and the church, and therein to find our own story.”

The ten commandments were written for a particular group of people as they tried to figure out what it meant to be faithful and as the initial community of God’s people was being created. The culture and context change over time and might not conjure up the same images. So, for example, the tenth commandment says: do not covet your neighbour’s spouse, field, ox, or donkey. How many of us have an ox? How many of want an ox in our backyard?

The point is for these commandments to be transformative in our lives. The Eco Bible offers a reflection on the idea of coveting. It suggests that coveting, in our culture, is driven by advertising that encourages us to spend money and to consume more than we need. We are constantly encouraged to upgrade our technology. We throw things away rather than repair—often it is difficult to get parts or there are computer components that can’t be repaired. We are encouraged to constantly update our wardrobes and homes, so we keep up with current trends. Coveting is now built into our culture. It takes a lot of willpower to resist that need to constantly upgrade and consume. Maybe the commandment for our time might sound something like “do not consume more than you need.”

Wouldn’t that be transformative for us and for the world? One time when we were moving across the country, the person loading the moving van was surprised at how little stuff we had. He told us that on average, people accumulate 5000 lbs of stuff a year. That’s a lot of stuff. I know for myself how easy it is to buy something and then decide I don’t like it, or it doesn’t do what I thought it would, or I’m just in a particular phase of something and then things get pushed to the back of a cupboard and forgotten about. Why do we need all this stuff?

And wouldn’t the world be better off if there were fewer resources pulled from the earth, fewer things manufactured in factories, and fewer things shipped all around the world? What would the world look like if we resisted the consumerism that is enmeshed in our culture?

For each of the commandments, we need to examine them within our own context to figure out how they are continuing to speak to us. So, for example, do we worship the god of consumerism? What’s the latest gadget, fashion, or experience? Do we worship the god of money—either to save for some unknown eventuality or to spend with extravagance because you can’t take it with you?

We need to put each commandment into our own context and figure out what it means for us. Following the commandments, Moses offers what is known in the Jewish tradition as the Shema. It is still used in Jewish communities as a daily prayer. Jesus quoted this as the first commandment.

Listen, O Israel:
YHWH, our God, YHWH is One!
You are to love YHWH, your God,
with all your heart,
and with all your soul,
and with all your strength.

DEUTERONOMY 6:4-5

To listen is not just to have words spoken to us that go in one ear and out the other. We need to hear—to take in and absorb the words. Then we need to respond. That’s when we have fully listened.

There is some question about the translation of “YHWH, our God, YHWH is One!” Jewish Study Bible suggests this same line could be translated, as “God is our God, YHWH alone!” With this translation, there is an acknowledgement of many gods in the known world but the Hebrew people choose YHWH over all the other Gods available to them.

The Jewish Study Bible defines love as the “loyalty of action to both deity and neighbour.” And if you have to choose between God and your neighbour, you choose your neighbour. Spill the Beans: (Oct 11, 2015) says, “There is no worth in praying to God when someone is shouting for your help and you think you are doing a greater and more worthy thing in continuing to pray and devoting yourself to God. In Genesis 18, Abraham is communing with God and three strangers come to him and Abraham breaks off his conversation with God to offer hospitality to the strangers. This is the right thing to do. People need your help, God does not. If you need to make a choice, always fulfil your obligations to people first.”

The Hebrew word that is traditionally translated as strength can also be translated as wealth or substance. (Inclusive Bible) When I hear the word strength in this context, I often think of strength of will. If I just focus hard enough and force myself, I can love God enough or be faithful enough. But if we think of this in terms of wealth or substance, it takes on a different meaning. With all your wealth, with everything that you have.

Let’s hear this prayer again:

Listen: Hear and respond to these words:
God is our God, YHWH alone!
You are to act with love towards your neighbour and your God,
with all your heart,
and with all your soul,
and with all your wealth and everything you have.

This weekend we celebrate Thanksgiving. Celebrate with gratitude all the gifts of life—friends, family, food, shelter, the creation that surrounds us—everything that makes for a rich and full life. Then take a moment and ask, what does it mean to act with love towards our neighbour and our God? What does it mean to put all of our heart, soul, wealth and everything we have into loving our neighbour and loving God? What small changes can we make to consume less and love more?