Travelling Together

Exodus 1:8-14 speaks to me of so many things that are happening in our world right now. The Egyptians were not bad people, but they were afraid. They were afraid that their land and communities would be changed by the number of Israelis among them. They were afraid that their power would be shared. They were afraid that they would lose their wealth. The way they dealt with all of this was to force the Israelites into hard labour. The oppression that the Egyptians engaged in came from a place of fear. The passage begins by telling us that the new pharaoh did not know Joseph. In other words, the new pharaoh did not know the history. The pharaoh had forgotten how Joseph had helped Egypt in a time of great need.

If we know our history, we know that Europeans were good at colonization. With any colonization, there are those moments of first encounter. In our own context, I am reminded of stories of the first encounters between Indigenous and European people. There are stories of Indigenous people teaching about how to live off the land and survive the harsh winters. The Europeans needed Indigenous knowledge to survive in this new place. But then there’s the work of figuring out how new cultures, communities, and languages will come together.

In the scripture story, the Egyptians decided to force the Israelites into slavery and when that didn’t work, they decided on genocide by killing all the baby boys. In Canada, the Europeans used treaties, reserves, and residential schools to gain control of the land, to control and to assimilate the Indigenous peoples. We know that children were killed and their deaths hidden from their families. There are similarities between the story of ancient Egypt and Canada. The specific methods are different but the intent of holding power and control over another group of people is the same.

Some of us might relate to the Egyptians who live in fear of foreigners becoming too numerous or powerful in their country. I regularly hear anti-immigrant sentiment and racism in our community. For some of us of European descent, I think it can be uncomfortable to see so much diversity from so many places. It can be uncomfortable to hear Indigenous people finding their voice and speaking from their experiences and realities and holding the colonizing groups to account.

Canada exists as both a colonized and colonizing people. We hold the experience of colonizing the Indigenous people, along with many immigrants who come from parts of the world that were colonized by the Europeans. Those of us of European descent hold a history of being colonizers. Part of the Exodus story we won’t hear today is one of resistance. As Israelite babies were born, they were to be killed. There are stories of midwives saving the babies. Moses’ mother placed him in a basket and hid him in the river. Moses himself killed someone he saw abusing an Israelite.

Colonization brings with it a need to control—to control land, resources, power, people and stories. We’ve seen in our own country the way that control has destroyed communities, generations of families, languages, and cultures. We remember children who died in residential schools and whose families never knew what happened. When control is threatened and fear arises, we see hatred and violence increase. Today we remember the harms of colonization. We know that so much has been lost by the need to control.

The first part of the reading takes us into a place of oppression and hurt. It takes us into violence and destruction. These are very real experiences in our world. Exodus 3:1-15 leads us through those experiences to something else.

After killing someone who was abusing an Israelite, Moses fled into the wilderness. He had started a new life. He tried to forget about his connection to the people who were suffering. It was no longer his problem. Even though he was trying to hide from God, God found him and gave him a task.

Moses was the one who would lead the people out of Egypt. God was going to work through Moses to change the lives of the Israelites. Moses was a reluctant leader. He didn’t jump up and immediately say, “Send me, God.” He said, “Why me? Who am I?” But God insisted.

Hiding is much easier and much more convenient. Putting our blinders on so we don’t see anything unless it directly impacts us is often more comfortable. And stepping up to make a difference can be challenging. It requires faith in God’s presence. It requires hope that there is something beyond the immediate reality.

Sometimes, the biggest barrier to change is us. We don’t think that our presence or our words matter. We’re just one person, what difference will that make? Moses was just one person, and he made a difference. On the Day for Truth and Reconciliation, we hear Phyllis Webstad’s story of her orange shirt that was taken from her on her first day at residential school. We heard Carmen Lansdowne’s words reminding us of the need for our work and commitment.

Moses went to Egypt with God’s presence and led the people out of Egypt. They wandered in the wilderness for forty years—learning to rely on God and becoming a community of people. They were people who had lived through the trauma of slavery and oppression. You would think that experience, and forty years of healing in the wilderness with God’s presence leading and guiding them would have taught the Israelites something.

God brought them into a new land. A land filled with plenty of food and resources. But there were already people in that land. Rather than be oppressed again, the Israelites engaged in genocide and war to remove the people who were already there. Does this sound at all familiar? The Israelites had an opportunity to do something different, but they defaulted to what they already knew. We need to know our history so we understand the importance of relationships. We need to understand our history so we can see how decisions of the past impact the present. From there, we can begin making different choices and following God to a different way of being in the world.

At the Living Skies Regional gathering last spring, Chief Cadmus Delorme described the history of Canada and the work of reconciliation in this way:

“Think of it as two canoes going down a river. One canoe is Cowessess. The other canoe is the Crown, Canada – Saskatchewan, where I am right now. We agreed to float down this river as long as the sun shines, the grass grows, the river flows. Every generation, we were to exchange a child with the other canoe to raise them to know the ideology. And that way we would always prosper together. That didn’t happen.

Two years after Treaty 4, the Indian Act was thrown in our canoe without our consent. It had one purpose: to imprison the minds of the Cowessess people. [It said] that we don’t know our own governance, that women [are to] play a lesser role, and so forth.

Twenty-two years later, the residential school was thrown in our canoe. It had one purpose: to brainwash Indigenous people so we would not know our language, not know the spiritual connection of men with braids, and so forth.

So today, the Cowessess canoe has fallen behind. We’re not asking Canada to slow down; we’re asking Canada to invest in our canoe so we can catch up to what a true treaty relationship should be in this country. If anybody thinks that we should have abandoned our canoe – you’re thinking White Paper – that’ll never happen. Delete that. And let’s just focus on a true nation-to-nation relationship.”

I found this image helpful in thinking about how we got where we are and where we go next. There’s an invitation and a specific action—help the Indigenous canoe catch up so that the canoes can float together. There’s an opportunity for something different going forward but it is going to requires us to step out of our comfort zone and find different ways of being in relationship. We will need to be comfortable with diversity and find ways for all of our diversity to be celebrated. Our responsibility requires us to protect the rights of the most vulnerable people in our society so that we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past.

A Good Friday Reflection

Photo by: joey zanotti

Our Holy Week Story begins with Matthew 21:1-11.

We’ve walked with Jesus over the last few weeks as he fasted in the wilderness, argued theology, made connections, healed a blind man, and raised a dead man. Now we follow him into the city of Jerusalem. Jesus arrives in the city, riding a humble donkey in contrast to Pilate and the Roman army arriving with horses and chariots.

As Jesus enters Jerusalem, a city of about 25,000 people, the crowd prepares to crown him king. The week begins with a jubilant celebration. You can imagine the scene: shouting and celebrating. Finally, there is a king they can be proud of, a leader who will lead with God’s authority. Finally, they will be free of the oppression of the Romans.

Tensions rise and the conflict begins. Jesus heads straight to the temple where he challenges the moneylenders. He preaches through the streets and causes a stir as he questions the authority of the religious leaders. 

All of this catches the attention of the religious authorities.

Matthew 26:1-13

Throughout the Holy Week stories, there is tension between the politics that threaten Jesus’ life and the relationships that he has with his friends and followers. We hear of the plot to kill Jesus and then we hear how a woman offered ointment to care for him. It is a very intimate gesture in the midst of political upheaval.

Jesus knows that we cannot separate the personal and the political. The woman who anoints Jesus does so with care and concern for him. Jesus knows that his actions have caught the attention of authorities and that they will kill him for his words and actions. He acknowledges that the anointing is personal and that it prepares him for the political death that is to come.

This tension between the personal and political flows through all the stories of the week. We will see Jesus predict the abandonment of the disciples over dinner. We watch as Judas betrays Jesus with a kiss while he prays.

These stories weave the personal stories of tenderness, relationships, and shared food within the context of what it means to be part of something bigger than ourselves. When we see things happening in the world, like war, shootings, genocide, and natural disasters, we remember that they are not just political events. These are events that impact individual people, that disrupt lives, and even in the middle of upheaval, there are moments of relationship and intimacy.

Matthew 26:14-16

Judas, one of Jesus’ closest followers betrays him so the Romans can find and kill Jesus. We might not have experienced this level of betrayal but many of us have had experiences where trust has been broken or we have been deeply hurt by someone. I wonder how Jesus felt as he watched one of his trusted friends betray him. I can imagine his devastation as a relationship he has nurtured disintegrates before his eyes. I can feel the heartbreak of such a deep wound.

Even as his life unravels, Jesus gathers his followers to celebrate the Passover meal. This meal marks the escape from Egyptian oppression and slavery. It is a sign of God’s salvation.

Matthew 26:17-46

We go into the week with all our questions about where God is in the world. We wonder why death and violence seem so strong. We wonder about a God who seems to abandon even the most beloved. We wonder about a God who allows betrayal and hurt to wound so deeply. If there is a God, why is that God silent in the face of horror?

Living Water

The woman at the well is one of my favorite stories. We find it in John 4:5-42.

So, Jesus didn’t have to go through Samaria as he was traveling from Judea to Galilee. The Jewish and Samaritan communities didn’t mix and there was long-standing animosity. One of the main points of contention was about where to worship. The Jewish community had rebuilt the temple in Jerusalem. The Samaritans had built a temple on Mount Gerizim. The final straw in this animosity came about when John Hyrcanus, the Jewish high priest, and ruler, destroyed the Samarian capital, Shechem, and the Samaritan temple. This happened about 130 years before Jesus’ time.

To make the journey Jesus made in this story, most Jews would have traveled to the East, crossed the Jordan River traveled north, then crossed the river back into Galilee in order to avoid Samaria. Jesus just goes straight North. The story tells us that Jesus had to travel through Samaria. He didn’t have to, but he chose to go that way. He made a choice to travel through an area avoided by most of his community. He made a choice to travel through an area that was potentially dangerous.

As they travel, Jesus becomes tired and sits down by a well. He sends the disciples off to find food. Jesus is sitting all alone in an area considered unsafe for his people. A woman arrives at the well to draw water and Jesus strikes up a conversation with her. This is the longest conversation Jesus has anywhere in the scriptures.

Give me a drink! – a demanding tone from Jesus.

And then the woman responds: You’re asking me, an unclean, enemy woman for a drink. I don’t think so.

According to custom, Jesus and the woman could not have shared food, drink, cups, or utensils. Even if she was willing to help Jesus out, he should not have even asked for her assistance.

Jesus responds to her again. “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, “Give me a drink”, you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”

Jesus is talking in riddles and she takes him at face value: “you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well?”

What is interesting about her statement is that she is making reference to their shared history. There is this long-standing animosity and yet they share an ancestor in Jacob. It isn’t Jesus who makes the connection to this shared history—she makes the connection.

Jesus and the woman are sitting beside the well that Jacob dug. We might remember Jacob from the book of Genesis, way back at the beginning of our faith story. Jacob is known for tricking his brother Esau out of his birthright. Jacob met his love wife Rachel by a well when she came to draw water. He was tricked into marrying her sister Leah before he was allowed to marry Rachel. Both the Samarians and Jews trace their ancestry back to this family.

The woman, probably older, is worn out from life. She comes every day to this well to haul water. You can imagine the work of maintaining a household without modern conveniences. This woman would love to rest from her labours, but survival requires her to carry on. If Jesus can give her life-giving water so she won’t have to come back to the well—wouldn’t that be a blessing?

As they continue chatting, Jesus tells her to call her husband—that is the right and proper thing to do. And she has to be honest, she doesn’t have a husband to call. Jesus responds by reminding her that she has had five husbands. There’s no judgment here. We don’t know what happened to her husbands. There was a tradition of levirate marriage—if a husband died, the next brother would marry the widow. This served two main purposes. It was supposed to provide an heir to the previous brother and give the widow some security. It is very possible that this woman had been married to all five brothers and that the last one refused to marry her. She would have had no choice in the arrangement. Can you imagine how life might have worn her down? No wonder she wants the life-giving water that Jesus is offering.

And then the conversation takes a deeply theological turn. The woman identifies Jesus as a prophet, and asks Jesus where the proper place to worship is—is it Jerusalem or mount Gerizim? Jesus says it doesn’t matter where you worship but that you worship in spirit and in truth—that you worship with a good heart and that the way you live follows that same spirit. How would this conversation have gone if Jesus had insisted that Jerusalem was the correct place to worship? The woman seems to be trying to figure out whether Jesus is to be trusted. Will he say something transformative, or will he offer her the same entrenched view that she has heard before?

And Jesus does offer something different. He offers her hope for a time when the specific practices of faith will be less important than following where the spirit leads. And the woman hears Jesus’ words and hears them as an affirmation of her faith. She hears them as an affirmation of hope for the future. “I know that messiah is coming.” Messiah meant different things to different groups of people. For the Samaritans, Messiah was a prophet, similar to Moses, who would restore the observance of the law. For the Jewish people, the messiah would be a political leader who would restore the nation.

And Jesus responds: “I am he, the messiah.” This is the only place in the gospel of John where Jesus identifies himself as the messiah. I wonder if Jesus felt more comfortable with this image of messiah, as the restorer of law, rather than that of a political leader. I wonder if this Samaritan woman understood what Jesus was about better than some of the disciples who were following him all over the countryside. Jesus didn’t start out with the intention of founding a new religion. His intention was to restore Judaism back to its core values of being in good relationship with God and with other people.

In a place where he was supposed to find enemies, Jesus found a woman who shared his concerns and values. He found someone who wanted to be faithful to the law of God and to worship in spirit and in truth. He found someone wanting to dig in, to question and debate what it means to be faithful. If Jesus had done the proper thing and avoided Samaria, he would not have encountered this woman.

I wonder how often we avoid going to certain parts of the city, certain events, or activities because we think they are intended for those “others,” people that are not like us. It is easy to get into certain patterns that keep us in our own little bubble. Sometimes, like the people who avoided Samaria, we do this out of fear. Sometimes it is just a habit.

In a world where there is so much divisiveness, we need to take ourselves off the usual path and go into the places we don’t normally go. We might, surprisingly, find common ground—people who share our concerns and values for including and welcoming, supporting people in poverty, working for reconciliation, and caring for the earth.

The woman at the well might have been worn down by life, but the common ground that she and Jesus found, across the divisiveness of their communities and cultures, created a space where streams of life-giving water could flow. Jesus needed the connection as much as she did. He needed someone who understood what he was trying to do. The encounter sparked in her the possibility that life could be different than what it was. This was a mutual connection.

It wasn’t just Jesus and the woman who were a part of this connection. The disciples had to wrestle with their involvement. They were now staying in a community considered unclean. They weren’t supposed to be there and they were certainly not supposed to be eating and drinking together. The people that the woman when and found were also changed by the encounter with Jesus. There was a ripple effect—one person stepping off the path into a place they weren’t “supposed to be” changed individual lives and changed the relationships between people who held longstanding animosity.

What would happen this Lent, if each of us stepped off our normal path, and stepped into a place we weren’t supposed to be. What would happen if we stepped into someone else’s world. Would the life-giving water flow between us? Would that life-giving water bubble over into the world? What would the ripple effect be like?

I invite you to consider where you could step off your normal path and encounter someone you wouldn’t normally meet. See what happens.

Who is Jesus?

You might remember these words from the very beginning of John’s gospel:

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

The first part of this gospel is all about establishing who Jesus is and why we should care about his presence in the world. John 1:29-42 continues in the same theme. This reading identifies four titles for Jesus: God’s sacrificial lamb, only begotten of God, Rabbi, and Messiah.

These are four very different faces of Jesus. The title of God’s sacrificial lamb takes us back to the Exodus story where the Hebrew people were told to kill a lamb and put its blood on their door post to avoid having their eldest boy killed in the plague. The blood of the lambs would protect God’s people. In the Hebrew scripture, there was also a command to make a whole burnt offering of a lamb. Our theology often gets jumbled up with the idea that these are sin offerings. They were simply extravagant offerings to God. If we follow the tradition of the sin offering, and Jesus as the lamb of God, there is no longer a need to make sin offerings, as Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice.

I struggle with the theology that killing something can wipe out sin, can bring healing, can bring new life. Violence brings more violence, more unrest, more hurt, more pain. I don’t believe that Jesus was sent for the purpose of being crucified for sin. Jesus was sent to bring hope, possibilities, life. Jesus didn’t die to wipe out sin. He died because there is sin in the world, and he challenged that sin. He stood strong even in the face of violence and death so that sin couldn’t have the last word. Believing in Jesus doesn’t give us a free pass to behave badly. I wonder what it would mean to see Jesus’ life as a whole offering to God. What would it mean if our lives were whole offerings to God?

John goes on to retell the story of Jesus’ baptism with the spirit resting on him. That’s how John knows that Jesus is the Only Begotten of God. John’s gospel makes no mention of Jesus’ birth. We don’t have the story of the Holy Spirit coming to Mary. Jesus’ parentage in John’s gospel is simply God. According to John, Jesus already existed within God’s being when the world was created.

Here again, I have questions. Our creeds affirm that Jesus is fully human and divine. If Jesus was fully human, he had to have human parents. So, what does it mean to be begotten of God? Scripture also affirms that we are all children of God. I believe that Jesus was fully human. I also believe Jesus had the ability to connect with God, to see and understand what needed to be done. For me, Jesus was the ultimate of faithful living. If Jesus was only God, there’s no hope I can live up to that. If Jesus is human, we all have that full potential within us.

John points his disciples toward Jesus. They identify him as a Rabbi—a teacher. Jesus is someone they can learn from. Jesus asks them, “what are you looking for?” This might be better translated as what are you seeking? These are the first words we hear from Jesus. What are you seeking? What do you need for fullness of life?

It’s a great question and one that shapes our relationship with Jesus. Do we need healing in a particular relationship? Do we need rest? Do we need to find strength within our self? Do we need the companionship of others? Do we need comfort in the midst of grief or pain? Do we need courage or hope? Jesus is the one who can show us the path to what we need most in our lives?

The disciples respond to Jesus’ question by asking, “where are you staying?” This isn’t a question of where you will sleep tonight. The translation has more to do with a sense of stability and permanence. Words like abide, remain, endure, continue, or dwell might be better translations than staying. The new disciples are asking, “where can we find you and what you have to offer?” Where can we find this sense of God’s presence that you represent?

Jesus’ response to their question is, “Come and see.” Jesus is giving the invitation to come and see what he has to offer, to come and experience life with him. John’s gospel has stories that are unique and not found in the other gospels. Here we find Jesus changing water into wine, Nicodemus, the woman at the well, the healing at Bethesda, the woman caught in adultery, Jesus as the light of the world, healing the man born blind, the raising of Lazarus. Each of these stories has something to say about who Jesus is and how he can change lives.

Finally, we have the affirmation of Jesus as Messiah. The word Christ is an anglicized version of Messiah. In Jewish tradition, the messiah is an anointed political leader. This is someone who will be deeply invested in shaping the interpersonal life of the community. This is about who has access to status, resources, and power. We see Jesus talking to the people without power, status, or resources. We see Jesus healing people who were outcast from their community, feeding those who are hungry, and challenging those with power. These were the people he was most concerned with. As the Messiah or Christ, Jesus would turn the political system inside out.

Jesus wasn’t just a spiritual leader. He was also a political leader. His earliest followers attest to that tension. The invitation is to know God, through the person of Jesus. By knowing Jesus in our own lives, the people and world around us will be transformed. We are invited, just like those first disciples, to come and see. We are invited to seek God in our lives and find what we need for fullness of life. But it can’t be just about ourselves. We need the other side of Jesus that is very much communal and political. The humanness of Jesus reminds us that God can work in each of us. And finally, Jesus as the lamb of God gives us the courage to stand firm in the face of violence.

We are invited to come and see and get to know this Jesus with all his faces. We cannot choose only one or two aspects of Jesus or we miss the fullness of possibilities. My invitation to all of us is to come and seek Jesus and get to know where God lives in your life and in the world.

Dreaming of Peace

This reflection is based on Isaiah 11:1-10. What kind of dream world is Isaiah living in? The wolf and the lamb together? The leopard and baby goat hanging out? The lion not eating the calf? The cow and the bear eating grass together and the calves and bear cubs playing together? The baby playing by the cobra and not getting hurt? Can you imagine it? It seems highly impossible to me.

But can you imagine a leader that has a spirit of wisdom and understanding? Can you imagine a leader that governs with a sense of God’s wisdom and God at the forefront of their leadership? Can you imagine a leader that listens and looks carefully before making decisions? Can you imagine a leader who treats the poor with respect and fairness and puts the oppressed first in their decision-making? Can you imagine a leader that says no to violence and abuse of power? Can you imagine a leader that puts justice and compassion as their first priority?

Isaiah is making the point that a just leader is about as improbable as the wolf and lamb lying down together. But Isaiah imagines, what if it could really happen? When Isaiah imagines the creatures getting along, there is a strong sense of security. The animals feel safe with creatures that would normally be natural enemies. And when leaders lead with their hearts, and their sense of God’s spirit, the unexpected can happen.

What would happen, if our leaders put the needs of the most marginalized Canadians first? What would happen if leaders cared for the earth by encouraging green energy rather than petroleum companies? What would happen if leaders made sure everyone had a living income rather than encouraging wealth in the hands of a few? What would happen if leaders put healthcare and education as priorities?

In scripture, peace is always connected with a sense of security and abundance. It isn’t just that fighting stops. Peace requires that justice is done for the most marginalized in society. Those whose voices are often silenced are heard. Everyone has access to what they need to thrive—food, shelter, and safety. As in this passage from Isaiah, there is security and safety. We can’t have peace and maintain the status quo at the same time. Peace as Isaiah describes it, requires a different type of leadership and a different set of priorities. It requires the creation and the most vulnerable people to be at the center of decision-making.

Along with the wolf and lamb living together, Isaiah asserts that “a little child shall lead them.” We often assume that age gives wisdom and the ability to lead well. We think worldly experience, wealth, status in society, education, and professional experience make a good leader. Sometimes these things are helpful but sometimes they get in the way of seeing the most vulnerable, most hurting and the poorest among us. Sometimes as adults, we get caught up in thinking and logic but sometimes, we need to lead with our hearts.

We teach children to care for others and to share and yet when we look for leaders, these are not always high on our list of qualifications. Children often have a strong intuition for when others are hurting. Most children have witnessed (or experienced) bullying. Most children have had the experience of being excluded. They know that these situations hurt and often want to do something to help. Children often have a strong sense of what is fair and are often more connected to their hearts than adults.

Many of us will know of Gretta Thunberg, a young climate activist. She began her public activism when she was fifteen. Her leadership was and is controversial for several reasons. She is a young woman who speaks bluntly. She challenges adults, governments, and corporations about their treatment of the earth. She makes those of us who are comfortable, uncomfortable. Prophets throughout our scriptures do the work of making the comfortable uncomfortable. Isaiah is doing it in this passage. Jesus spent his life disrupting the comfortable. Gretta and other young people are leading the work against climate change with their heart and their action. They are continuing the work of disrupting the comfortable. Many of us adults have gotten comfortable with the status quo and have limited ability to imagine the possibilities. We need children and young people to lead us in our church and in our world.

If we only listen to adults, nothing will change. We need the voices of children who listen to their hearts and imagine the possibilities. We need their creativity. We need their leadership. Imagine what would happen if we allowed children to have an equal voice. Imagine what would happen if we listened to their ideas and opinions and took them seriously. Would children be able to bring a “spirit of wisdom and understanding, a spirit of knowledge and reverence of Yahweh?” Would children be able to see those who are most vulnerable and hurting and bring a spirit of care to our church and world? Would children be able to help us care for creation in meaningful ways?

A child will lead them. In this season, we celebrate the birth of Jesus. We celebrate God coming among us as a child but then we wait for him to grow up before we take him seriously. If we really believe that God came as a human child, we need to celebrate God among us in the children around us. We need to recognize that children bring wisdom and value for who they are at any age. Children can help create the world that Isaiah is dreaming about—a world of peace, abundance, and security for all of God’s creation.

Deep Spirituality, Bold Discipleship, Daring Justice

The United Church of Canada recently created a new vision and mission to shape and guide our ministries in the next few years. The three broad headings are Deep Spirituality, Bold Discipleship and Daring Justice. This blog explores those ideas based on current events.

Deep Spirituality

When we come to worship on Sunday, we are moved by music and words, we are reminded of our connection to other people, to the history of the Christian story, and to God’s world. But if only intentionally connect with our spirituality on Sunday morning, we miss opportunities to be deeply grounded in our faith.

Our spirituality is the way in which we connect with God on a daily basis—in between gathering together for worship. Some of us have a regular practice of prayer—maybe in the morning, or at a mealtime, maybe before bed. Some of us have never developed that kind of regular routine. Some of us prefer meditation. Some of us take long walks in nature and notice the changing of the seasons and give thanks for how the earth supports us. Some of us just sit quietly and reflect on life as it goes by. Some of us use music (either listening or creating it) as a way of feeling the spirit move. All of these practices, and many others, help us to deepen our sense of God’s presence so that when something terrible happens in our lives or in the world we know we are not alone.

Sometimes praying might feel empty. We can’t bring back all the people who were killed this week. The words of our prayer won’t change what happened but our deep spirituality reminds us that God comforts those who mourn—ourselves, the families and friends whose lives have changed forever in those moments of violence. Our spirituality reminds us that we are people of death…and resurrection. We are people who know death doesn’t have the last word. Our spirituality reminds us that we are not alone. Our spirituality doesn’t change what is but it gives us strength and courage to stand firm in the God of love, even when the world feels like chaos.

And so we pray in whatever ways we know how. We pray that all those impacted by the school shooting will know the power and strength of love—that they will feel strong arms holding them. We pray that violence will end and that schools will be places of safety, growth and learning.

Bold Discipleship

We ground our lives in our spirituality, our prayer, our vision for the world. Discipleship is about following Jesus faithfully even when it feels counterintuitive or dangerous. In Acts 16, we see Paul act to heal the household worker so her employers could no longer take advantage. It meant beatings and prison for Paul and his companions. Then there’s an earthquake and they could escape but the jailer would have killed himself, so they stayed put and offered him care and compassion in the name of Jesus. They didn’t need to involve themselves in any of this. They could have ignored the household worker as an irritant and carried on. By healing her Paul set in motion a chain of events and had to see it through.

When we think about school shootings, they are much rarer in Canada than in the United States but they do happen here too. Rather than see these as events removed from us we are being called to discipleship in our own community. We might support the anti-bullying work that is a part of many schools. Maybe our discipleship is building relationships with and supporting LGBTQ+ students and others who might sometimes feel like outsiders because of race, ability, or class. Maybe our discipleship is continuing to ensure that guns are not easily available in Canada. Discipleship requires us to take a stand—to speak and act publicly—to create with the holy spirit, the world God envisions. Discipleship often involves saying and doing the things that might make ourselves and others uncomfortable. Once we start on this path, it may lead us to discover other actions that support a safe and flourishing community.

Daring Justice

In scripture, we often find the words justice and righteousness together. Righteousness is about treating others as the image of God and being in right relationship with others. Justice is noticing the vulnerable, offering tangible support that helps for the moment. Justice goes another step and requires us to speak and act to change social structures to prevent injustice.

Sometimes when we look around, the world feels like chaos. There are so many huge overwhelming problems right now. We see war, school shootings, climate change, unmarked graves at residential schools and it feels like we can’t do anything about any of it. As a community of faith there is a tendency to turn inward and focus on ourselves—our survival, our lack of people, our lack of financial resources. But I think this is a story we tell ourselves to avoid the real work that God calls us to. We want to maintain the vision of what we had rather than creating the vision of what could be. We want to be comfortable but, Bold Discipleship and Daring Justice will take us out of our comfort zones.

We know climate change is a real thing—even though there are deny-ers out there. We know that humans are having an impact on the environment and yet it is hard to have a conversation about climate change without becoming mired in the politics. So we don’t talk about it in our church because we don’t want to upset anybody. Some people agree with carbon tax, some people don’t. Some people want more solar and wind power. Some people want more support for the oil and gas industries. Constructive conversation doesn’t happen. We are afraid of the conversation because it might upset someone. Daring justice means that someone is going to be upset. The question is not about us and what’s going to inconvenience us least. The question is what parts of the earth are most impacted by climate change? That’s where our attention and focus need to go. How do we help the earth, as a whole, to flourish? That’s a practical question for how we live. But it also goes towards changing government policy to support and protect the earth.

Justice isn’t short-term bandages. Justice is long-term work that changes the world. I invite us to send our roots deep into our spirituality, to be bold in our discipleship and daring in our justice. May our faith sustain and call us forth.

Bearing Witness

The story of Rizpah found in 2 Samuel is an obscure one. I had never heard of Rizpah before I did my theological training. Rizpah is the widow of King Saul, who came before David. According to the story, Saul “put the Gibeonites to death.” Essentially, Saul authorized a genocide.

Several years later, there is a famine in the land, and David is told that the way to end the famine is to avenge the Gibeonites. David has Saul’s sons and grandsons killed and leaves the bodies to rot. It is a gruesome story of murder and revenge.

Rizpah hears what happened and as a grief-stricken mother goes to the place where her sons died. There was nothing she could have done differently to keep them alive. Rizpah stays there for six months and spends her days keeping away the birds and her nights keeping away the scavengers. She couldn’t protect her sons from violence while they were alive, but she can protect their bodies. She could bear witness to the violence. Eventually, David hears about her vigil and gives the bodies a proper burial. Rizpah’s witness creates a break in the cycle of violence.

When I first heard this story, it got me thinking about the women who stood at the foot of the cross and watched Jesus die. They couldn’t do anything to stop the chain of events. They couldn’t save Jesus from his death but they could witness his suffering. They weren’t there just as curious bystanders. They were there because no one should have to suffer alone or have their suffering go unnoticed. Interestingly, the women who witness the crucifixion were the first to witness the resurrection. Noticing, witnessing, and being present with the suffering meant that they were more able to embrace hope and the possibilities of new life.

There is always suffering and violence in the world. The connections I saw between Rizpah’s witness and the women at the foot of the cross, made me wonder about the power of witnessing violence and suffering. The witness, the being present is an act of faith. It means that the suffering does not go unnoticed. It means that the violence cannot be a secret.

We might feel overwhelmed by the suffering we see in the news or hear about from friends and family and our inclination might be that we don’t want to know. It sometimes feels easier to turn away or pretend that the suffering is not ours and doesn’t impact us. And yet the biblical narrative reminds us that suffering and violence are never in isolation. God witnesses the suffering, and we are called to witness the suffering around us.

This is not about being curious bystanders or wishing we could change the past. Being a witness is about being faithful to the current reality. We are changed by what we choose to witness and that change in us creates change in the world around us. Allowing ourselves to witness the suffering means that the future is changed. If Rizpah hadn’t stood over her sons’ bodies they would have laid there and been scavenged and the cycle of violence would have continued. If there had not been witnesses to Jesus’ death, there couldn’t have been resurrection. The story would have ended with death. The simple act of witnessing changes the future.

What is the suffering we need to witness? With Remembrance Day just past, we are reminded that we need to witness the horrors of war—past and present. We need to be present to and witness the legacy of colonialism, residential schools, unmarked graves, missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. We need to acknowledge and witness the ongoing racism that happens every day in our communities. We need to witness the cries of the earth impacted by climate change and human destruction.

When we bear witness to suffering and violence, we are faithful to the biblical story. We stand in a long tradition of ordinary people who refuse to look away, who are committed to witnessing the suffering in the world, and who are willing to be changed by that experience. When we witness the suffering, we create space for hope and space for new life.

Thriving in Exile

The prophet Jeremiah is writing at the beginning of the Babylonian exile and he is dreaming of a future time. The people are pretty disheartened. Those with skills, wealth or power were taken away. Left behind were the poorest of the poor. Jeremiah 31:7-9 is intended to offer comfort and encourage the people during the time of exile. He reminds them that they have not been abandoned by God and there will be a different time. There will be a time when they can celebrate and rejoice. Covid sometimes feels like an exile from everything we know. There is layer upon layer of trauma. There might be weddings, funerals or other occasions missed. Loved ones we can’t see before they die. Routines that are disrupted. We watch as people die unnecessarily. We wait as our healthcare system is overwhelmed. We miss family and friends. Our work is different. Even something as normal as coming to worship is no longer normal. It feels like nothing is as it should be. It is easy to be disheartened and distressed.

The Hebrew people were exiled to a strange land and in chapter 29 Jeremiah tells them to embrace the new land in which they find themselves. Make a new life there. Have families, build houses, plant vineyards. If they are able to thrive in that place, they will survive. They don’t know when they will return. It isn’t just putting in the time and waiting impatiently for the day they will return. Jeremiah’s instructions are clear…You have to keep living fully in this new place. It will be different, but you can make a new life…and even when you return, it will be different. The exile lasted 70 years so the people left behind learned to function as a society without the rich, powerful, skilled people. Their way of life changed during that time. Those returning were coming back to a land they had never seen. They only had the stories of parents and grandparents, so it won’t be like what they imagined. The exile was a time of upheaval for the Hebrew people. It was a time of loss, of weeping, of challenge, of distress. Families were torn apart and separated. Rituals and customs were disrupted. They didn’t have a choice about going through this time but they did have a choice about how they spent that time.

They could spend the whole time weeping and moaning and waiting for the good old days—for normal to return or they could embrace the new life they were given and figure out how to live fully and thrive in a challenging situation. That’s often easier said than done and I know that I have found it challenging to thrive in the midst of covid. Everything is different. I’m having to constantly learn new skills and new ways of doing ministry. I miss family and friends. I miss “normal” activities. It feels like my ability to thrive is limited at the moment.

Every generation has difficult times…A war, drought or other natural disasters, famine, disease. Many of the saints we identified earlier lived through these experiences. If we think about their lives, we might notice that they found ways of thriving even in difficult circumstances. Their lives give us hope for our own lives.

And Jeremiah also offers hope (v 9)
With weeping they shall come,
and with consolations I will lead them back,
I will let them walk by brooks of water,
in a straight path in which they shall not stumble;

I think one of the challenges for us is that we are waiting for a return to “normal.” But what if the return that Jeremiah is describing isn’t getting back to what we thought we knew. Maybe our return is the ability to thrive and live a full life in the midst of challenges. If we wait for normal, before we find joy and celebration, before we embrace life again, we might miss the return that Jeremiah is describing.

So my invitation for all of us is to embrace the place we find ourselves now. We need to learn how to live fully and thrive in this time and with these circumstances. That isn’t always easy but Jeremiah reminds us that God has not abandoned us. Even in what feels like exile, we are not alone and there is the possibility of fullness of life—even here.

We are Made from Mud and Wind

Both creation stories (Genesis 1:26-28 and Genesis 2:7,15) and Psalm 8 remind us that we are not separate from creation. We are mud and clay. We are the breath of wind. We are rooted and grow in the earth that nourishes and sustains us.

I think, because of our technology and because many of us live in an urban setting, it is easy to lose sight of how much connection we have with the earth. We might notice hotter, dryer summers and drought. We might notice intense storms and more flooding. We might hear about forest fires raging out of control or hurricanes being more frequent and more intense. We might hear that the glaciers and polar icecaps are melting, and sea levels are rising. We might notice certain species of birds are missing. We might notice new creatures moving in as they search for habitat. We might notice but is it more than a passing thought?

We might chat with a neighbour:

“Sure was hot this summer.”

“And dry…”

“Last time I remember a summer like this was 50 years ago.”

“Oh yeah. That was the summer when….”

And then the conversation moves onto anecdotes and other topics. It’s safer, more comfortable and less overwhelming than this conversation:

“Sure was hot this summer.”

“I’m convinced, the climate’s changing. I’m really worried that in a few years we won’t have enough water to farm here. All the marshes and ponds are drying up.”

“No farming? In one of the most agricultural parts of the world?”

“I don’t want to go all doomsday on you, but it could happen.”

“I know. All the scientists tell us it’s coming if we don’t change but I don’t want to think about it. It feels big and overwhelming.”

“The thing is, we all know what we need to do but we don’t always do it because we’re too comfortable.”

“I know….things like drive less, fly less, generally stay home more. Although with covid, we’ve been doing less travelling anyway.”

“I just hope we don’t go back to our old ways. And then there’s things like reduce, reuse, recycle.”

“Just generally want less. And be content with where we are and what we have.”

“And eat local food to support local farmers and cut down on all that transportation.”

“With an election coming up, we should be asking how our government is going to protect the earth. I can do all these little things myself, but it doesn’t feel like it makes much difference.”

“We need to look at the big picture and we can’t do that on our own. We need all of us to work together and our leadership needs to encourage us in caring for the earth.”

“It isn’t just about government though. It’s about our faith. We can’t be faithful to our God if we aren’t caring for the earth.”

“Remember the creation stories? We were formed from the mud of the earth….just like the crops and veggies we’re trying to grow.”

“We are mud of the earth and breath of the wind. You would think after thousands of years we would know our place, but I feel like we’ve gotten a bit muddled.”

“The creation stories tell us what we need to do: be responsible, watch over, and care for the earth and all its creatures. We know what we need to do.”

“But it’s so big and overwhelming. God gave us this huge task and I don’t know if I’m up for it.”

“We can’t say we are faithful and then ignore the earth that we are a part of. We can’t say we are faithful and ignore the creatures and plants who are losing their habitat. We can’t say we are faithful and then waste precious water. We can’t say we are faithful and then go willy-nilly using up all the resources in sight and then some. We can’t.”

“I know but I don’t know where to start.”

“Be responsible, watch over, and care for the earth. I’ll help you. And we’ll each find one more person to help. And they’ll each find one more person to help. Before you know it, everyone will be faithfully caring for creation—just as we were meant to from the start.”

“I know it’s a big ask, but we have to live in hope. That’s part of our faith too—living in hope that we and the world around us can be transformed. I promise not to get stuck in the doomsday mentality or ignore what’s happening. I promise to be a person of faith and hope in caring for the earth.”

Coming out of the Tomb

A few weeks ago, I attended a regional clergy retreat online. One of the sessions focused on this story, the story of Jesus raising Lazarus. It’s a story, I’ve heard many times and thought I knew. We were invited to participate in the story using Lectio Divina. It’s a process where you hear the same scripture multiple times. Each time there’s a different question. Usually, the first question is about what word or phrase stands out for you.

This time when I listened to the scripture, the phrase, “Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go” stood out for me. As I heard the scripture again and again, I continued to think about those words.

Lazarus is dead and they all know it. Jesus tells the people standing around to remove the stone. Then he prays and calls to Lazarus and as scripture puts it, “the dead man” came out of the tomb. Even though he was up and walking around he was still dead. Jesus voice alone, wasn’t enough to give him life. He was still wrapped up in the shroud and still dead. Jesus said to those around him: “unbind him and let him go.”

What if no one had been there to move the stone? What if no one had been there to unbind the shroud? What if they had all stood around and looked at Jesus and refused to help, thinking Lazarus was beyond hope?

This is mental health awareness week. Many among us have lived with mental health challenges. I think the last year has been difficult for many of us. We might feel like we are in our own tomb and there’s no way out. Even when we place our faith in God, it might feel like nothing happens and nothing changes. We might be alone in our physical space. We might feel alone in our hearts and minds. We pray and call out to God and wonder if God hears our prayers. We might even get a sense of God’s presence.

As an example, in my own life, I miss my family in Alberta. I worry about my mom in long-term care. I feel isolated and disconnected from people I saw several times a year. I pray and that brings comfort but it doesn’t change the reality of the situation. Throughout the year, I’ve reminded myself that lots of people are missing family. Lots of people have family in long-term care. I’m not the only one finding this time challenging. And this is all true, but it doesn’t always make it easier. Often, I’ve been dismissive of my own feelings because so many people are experiencing similar things and worse things. I often hear people say, “well, there’s someone worse off than me.” We can always find people worse off than ourselves but that denies our own very real pain.

Many of us have been conditioned to keep our problems to ourselves and rely primarily on our own faith, our own inner strength. I’ve tried to do that myself. I’m supposed to be the one caring for others but what’s happened over the last few months is that people I care about have been hurt because I wasn’t caring for myself and I wasn’t looking for the help I needed. I’m the one who is supposed to be strong for others. Besides, everyone’s experiencing something similar so what’s so special about what I’m experiencing?

But what happens when our own resources no longer seem like enough and we find ourselves, like Lazarus trapped inside a tomb with no way out? Each of us need people around us to see clearly what’s going on in our lives. Lazarus had Mary and Martha who knew Jesus could help. They reached out on his behalf. And Jesus came. He supported the community in their collective grief, but he couldn’t help Lazarus on his own.

In the last few months and weeks, I have realized that I need support and am reaching out to find that support. For some of us talking to a friend or family member is helpful. We might need the support of our minister, our doctor, other mental health workers, medication.

Jesus needed the community of those around to help him help Lazarus. The community had to remove the stone from the tomb. The community had to unbind him. The stories of Jesus healing people involve not just individuals but family and friends, or even strangers. This is especially true of mental health. Many of us have learned to put a good face on things and no one knows what’s actually happening underneath.

Our level of mental health changes regularly, sometimes even throughout a day. Some of us are able to manage with a bit of support and find our way back to an even keel fairly quickly. Some of us require medication and or on-going psychological support. For some of us the journey to mental wellness may last a lifetime. Wherever you find yourself on the spectrum of mental wellness, know that you are not alone. You are loved and cared for. In the midst of these challenges, it can be really hard to let anyone see the hurt and pain we might be feeling. It might feel overwhelming, or even risky to acknowledge to ourselves, let alone someone else, that we need help.

If someone asks how you are, it’s easy to say “good” or “fine” when we really feel fragile or hurt. The people around us want us to be well and thrive and be healthy. But we can’t support each other if we keep ourselves always within our own tomb.

If you are experiencing a challenging time in your life start by letting one person know you need help. Let them help you. When someone reaches out to you, invite others to come alongside and offer their support. We need a community of people to support each other’s mental wellness.

Jesus invites us out of the tomb and invites us to unwrap the shrouds that bind us and support each other so that all may be well. Amen.