A Reflection on Church Meetings and Ordinations

Facebook tells me that on this day, 6 years ago, I wrote the following:

“Highlight of the weekend: story-time with the Moderator (i.e. the head) of The United Church of Canada, The Right Rev. Gary Paterson. He read Scaredy Squirrel to us 😀”

For context, I had just driven home from the annual meeting of the Conference of Manitoba and Northwestern Ontario – a gathering of delegates, both clergy and lay, representing United Church of Canada congregations all across Northwestern Ontario and Manitoba that was held that year in Beausejour, Manitoba.  Over the course of the weekend we worshipped together, we heard presentations from our theme speaker, the Right Rev. Gary Paterson, and we went about the work of planning and celebrating the work of the church in our corner of the world – the work or mission of God, as carried out by the Body of Christ, the church.

At that time, I had been wrestling for several years with the sense that I might be called to ministry in the church.  5 months before, I had taken a break from “normal” life to move to a new town for a season, doing the same work but without the distractions of my usual commitments.  Part of the reason for this decision was to have a period of time to discern whether or not God was calling me in this new direction in life.

Part way through the weekend, we were read the story Scaredy Squirrel.

If you aren’t familiar with the book, the message of the book is that life can be scary, and change can be scary, and it’s OK to be scared; but change can also be exciting and can breathe new life.  It was in this moment that I found the courage to make the leap into the unknown, just as Scaredy Squirrel does.  When I got home, I got in contact with my Minister and with the Board of my church and requested a Discernment Committee, the first step (at the time) towards ministry in the United Church of Canada.

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On this day, one year ago, I was again at the annual meeting of the Conference of Manitoba and Northwestern Ontario.  It was the eve of my ordination.  I had moved to Halifax and completed my Master of Divinity at the Atlantic School of Theology; I had moved to Chetwynd, in northeastern British Columbia, and completed an 8-month internship; and I had accepted a call to Two Rivers Pastoral Charge in southern New Brunswick.  And I was about to be ordained as a minister in the United Church of Canada.

In our denomination, Ordination happened at the Annual Meeting of Conference – in my Conference, during the closing worship on Sunday morning.  I spent the weekend in Winnipeg at the annual meeting, participating in the worship and work, and reconnecting with old friends.  On Friday, the three of us to be ordained each had to address the gathering, speaking for 4-5 minutes about our ministry, and then the delegates at the meeting voted to ordain each of us.

During the closing worship, the three of us made our Ordination Vows, and then each of us knelt down as the church laid hands on us and conferred the Holy Spirit on us and on our ministry.  It was a day filled with deep joy and awe and celebration and transformation.

 

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This evening, as I write, I have just returned home from the first annual meeting of the Fundy St. Lawrence Dawning Waters Regional Council.  On January 1, the United Church of Canada changed its structure.  Conferences are no more, and have been replaced with Regions.  Everything has changed, yet everything is the same.

It was a weekend of worshipping together, listening to our theme speakers, and going about the work of the church – working together as the Body of Christ so that God’s mission might be realized in our corner of the world.

And for now, ordination still happens at the closing worship of the Regions.  This morning, I was present in worship as three of my friends (along with three others) were ordained as ministers in the United Church of Canada.  The Holy Spirit was dancing in the arena this morning – it was a day (and weekend) filled with joy and awe and celebration and transformation.  My eyes were leaky at several points over the weekend, and especially this morning.

The church is the Body of Christ.  When we gather together and allow the Holy Spirit to work in us and through us, then transformation happens.  As followers of Jesus Christ, the crucified and resurrected one, we know that resurrection is not only possible but happens.  Even though our old and familiar structures are no more, new structures have arisen and continue to arise and the Body of Christ lives.  The Holy Spirit is still breathing life into us.  The lessons of Scaredy Squirrel still hold true!

How can we keep from singing?!

"Who are We to Stand in the Way?" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

May 19, 2019

Scripture:  Acts 11:1-18 and John 13:31-35

My oldest nephew is 12 ½ years old now.  When he was born, I was living out of the country, and so I didn’t get to meet him until he was about 6 weeks old.  I remember meeting him for the first time, and holding him, and feeling like my heart was going to explode, it was so filled with love.

When my sister was expecting her second child, 2 years later, I was staying at her house the week of her due date and the week after.  When she went into labour, I stayed back at the house with my almost-2-year-old nephew while my brother-in-law drove my sister to the hospital.  I remember thinking that there was no way in the world that I would be able to love this new baby as much as I had loved the first one.  But later that afternoon, when I took my nephew into the hospital to meet his baby sister, and I held my niece for the first time, it was the same feeling all over again – like my heart was going to explode, there was so much love there.

And the most amazing thing is, that I didn’t love my nephew any less.  Rather than dividing my love between the two of them, the total amount of love that I had was doubled.  And now that I have 5 nieces and nephews – all of whom I got to visit last week – I have 5 times as much love in my heart as I had when the first one was born.  There is just as much love in there for the youngest as there is and always has been for the eldest.

(With 4 out of the 5!)

 
And isn’t that the way with love?  It’s not a zero-sum game, where you have a limited amount of love and you have to decide how you’re going to divide it up, and how much to give to whom.  No – love is something that is gradually unfolding and expanding; always increasing; always being known in more and more ways.

And I think that it’s the same with God’s love, with the love that is God.  Just because God loves another person doesn’t mean that there is less love for me.  I think that the history of the universe is a history of God’s love always unfolding and expanding and being made known in more and more ways.

In our scripture story, the story of Peter is a good example.  What do we know about Peter? 

·      fisherman

·      called by Jesus to fish for people

·      didn’t always “get” Jesus’ message

·      Peter = “rock on which I will build my church”

·      “Who do you say that I am?”  “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”

·      denied Jesus 3x

·      was forgiven by the resurrected Jesus 3x

In all of the time that Peter and the other disciples spent with Jesus, they heard his message of expansive love again and again.  Jesus spent time with people who were normally excluded by society – tax collectors, lepers, Samaritans – and he saw that Jesus’ love reached even to them.  Peter heard Jesus’ final plea, on the last night of his life, shortly before he was arrested, that they were to love one another.  This final plea that we heard at our Maundy Thursday service, and that we read again this morning in John’s gospel.  In the final moments of Jesus’ life, this message of love was what he wanted to leave his disciples with.  Love was all that mattered in this moment.

The story that we read today from the book of Acts takes place in the future.  Jesus has died on the cross; Jesus has been resurrected and interacted with the disciples; Jesus was raised up to heaven 40 days later; the disciples received the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, 10 days after that.  And then the disciples were left trying to figure out how they were going to live their lives as followers of this Jesus, the Messiah, even though they could no longer see him.  How were they going to continue to make this expansive and expanding love known to the world?

Spoiler alert – because the Holy Spirit was involved, this message of love spread like wildfire!

The earliest church was centered in Jerusalem, the same place where Jesus had died, had been buried, had risen from the dead, and later had ascended into heaven.  From there, the disciples shared the message of Jesus, and we have stories in the book of Acts of thousands of people being baptized in a single day.

And then we come to today’s story.  Up until this point, the early church was an offshoot of the Jewish synagogue and temple.  It was people who had been born Jewish, who had been circumcised as Jewish, who followed all of the Jewish laws about diet and clothing and customs who were being baptized.  And the assumption was that if a non-Jewish person wanted to be baptized, first they would have to become Jewish – they would have to be circumcised if they were male, and they would have to follow all of the laws outlined in the Torah.

But then Peter has a dream.  Yes, this same Peter who had been with Jesus up until almost the very moment of his death, this same Peter who had been forgiven by the risen Christ, this same Peter who had heard all of the teachings of Jesus while he was still alive – this same Peter has a dream.  And in this dream, Peter hears God telling him that God has made everything ritually clean or pure.  There is no need to separate the “us” and “them” any more – “we” who follow these rules, and “you” who don’t.

And as soon as he wakes up from his dream, the message from God is put to the test.  Peter is called to a non-Jewish home where the men weren’t circumcised and where the dietary laws weren’t followed.  He is invited to preach, which he does; and as he is preaching, he watches the Holy Spirit descend on to all the people gathered there.  And then Peter baptizes the whole household.  No call for circumcision; no instructions on how to follow the Jewish dietary laws – only a call for the water of baptism.  And as he is reporting back to the other disciples, he says, “God was there.  God gave the gift of the Holy Spirit.  Who am I to stand in the way?”

God’s love was unfolding and expanding in that moment.  Peter’s understanding of God’s love grew that day.  God’s love isn’t just for the “in-crowd” – it is for everyone.

This reading calls us to question ourselves honestly – who is in the world that we might think is outside of God’s love?  Is it people who follow different religions, or people with no religion at all?  Is it people who vote for a different political party?  Is it people who take us for granted and abuse us?  In 2019 I have to ask, is it people who would deny rights to the LGBTQ+ community; is it people who oppose gun control; is it people who want to block refugees from crossing borders?  In your heart of hearts, who is it that you think is outside of God’s love?

It’s a tough question to ask ourselves.  I may have just revealed what my answer would be in the list I gave above.  We are so good at dividing the world into “us” and “them” whether it is by dietary laws or by political parties or by religion.

But this God who is love keeps on pushing us, prodding us, nudging us by the Holy Spirit to increase our understanding of love, to grow in how we know God’s love, to have our eyes open to the ever-unfolding, ever-expanding nature of God’s love.

For if God’s love is there, who are we to stand in the way?

"The Worst Thing is not the Last Thing" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

April 28, 2019 (Holy Humour Sunday)

Scripture:  John 20:19-31

I want to invite you to imagine yourself back to the time of the first Easter – the day when the empty tomb was discovered.  The first disciples had moved through grief, confusion, fear, and wonder when they discovered that the grave where Jesus’ body had been laid was empty.

They have been numbed by grief, and stunned by the unexpected turn of events.  And now they are hiding themselves away.  All of the factors that were present in Ancient Jerusalem before Jesus was crucified are still present have been magnified.  There is still the threat of the Roman intolerance of dissent hanging over them.  There are still mutterings of rebellion blowing around them.  But now all of this is complicated by grief.  All of this is complicated by the fear of being discovered to be disciples of Jesus.  Remember that Peter was so afraid of being found to be a follower of Jesus that he denied knowing Jesus the night that he was arrested.

And so with this fear and threat hanging over them, and the unbelievable – literally beyond belief – surprise of the empty tomb, it’s no wonder that the disciples had hidden themselves away with fear.  They have locked themselves away for fear of being found, for fear of being discovered to be followers of Jesus, for fear of what might happen to them next.  They have locked themselves away, not quite sure what their next step is to be.

Last Sunday I mentioned that our story was a story of the empty tomb, not a story of the resurrected Jesus.  Well, this week the resurrected Jesus finally makes an appearance.  Those disciples are hiding away behind locked doors, when all of a sudden Jesus is standing among them.  He says, “Peace be with you.”  He shows them the wounds in his hands and in his side.  And it is only now that the disciples are able to shift to rejoicing.  Where there had been uncertainty and fear, now there is only joy.  Not only is the tomb empty, but Jesus is alive, and Jesus is standing among us.

As I was thinking about Easter, and the resurrection, and this scripture passage, I came across the same quote several times this week on FaceBook.  You know, where someone takes an inspirational quotation and puts in with either a beautiful or a dramatic picture behind it.  Anyways, this quote read:  “Resurrection means that the worst thing is never the last thing,” and it is attributed to theologian and novelist Frederick Buechner.  “Resurrection means that the worst thing is never the last thing.”

That seemed to fit well with our scripture passage this week – after all, those disciples were likely going through the very worst days of their lives, days filled with grief and fear.  But because of the resurrection, the worst thing was not the last thing – there was still the resurrection to come.

But I must be a sceptic at heart; and I definitely never take anything I read on FaceBook at face value (pun intended).  Especially when I see nice quotes attributed to famous people.  So I started digging.  Is it a real quote; and if it is, was it written or said by Buechner?

Well, I discovered that it is more of a paraphrase than a quote, and the actual quote from Buechner, from his novel The Final Beast, reads:

“The worst thing isn’t the last thing about the world.  It’s the next to last thing.  The last thing is the best.  It’s the power from on high that comes down into the world, that wells up from the rock-bottom worst of the world like a hidden spring.  Can you believe it?  The last, best thing is the laughing deep in the hearts of the saints, sometimes our hearts even.  Yes.  You are terribly loved and forgiven.  Yes.  You are healed.  All is well.”

This actual message goes far beyond the nice, inspirational, FaceBook-worthy quote.  It says that not only is the worst thing not the last thing, but that the best thing follows the worst thing, and that the seeds of the best thing have already been planted.  It says that joy, and even laughter are already welling up and springing up even in the middle of tragedy and suffering and despair.  It says that healing and love and forgiveness will follow, no matter how unlikely that may seem.

And that is what turns our scripture reading about resurrection into a very appropriate reading for today – Holy Humour Sunday.  This is the day when the disciples’ fear and bewilderment turns to joy and laughter.  This is a day when we can sing and rejoice because the risen Christ stands among us.  This is a day when we can laugh because death and suffering no longer get to have the final word.  The resurrection is God’s great cosmic joke on the expected order of things.

This has been a challenging week in many ways for our community and for our province.  The river waters continued to rise through much of the week, roads became flooded, water poured into basements for the second year in a row, and an air of anxiety and uncertainty hung over things, with the River Watch forecast changing from day to day.  For many people, this week might have felt like the worst thing.

And yet even in the middle of the stress and anxieties of this week, those seeds of hope and joy were planted and were welling up.  Volunteers from the community rallied and filled and delivered sandbags, often to people that they didn’t know.  The military showed up and worked side-by-side with schoolchildren in the sandpits across the province.  Individuals delivered sandwiches and baking to the volunteers, and churches hosted meals to feed anyone who needed it.  Love has been and continues to be shared with neighbours wherever you turn.

And that fits with our scripture story too, because Jesus doesn’t leave the disciples where he finds them, hiding away behind locked doors.  He repeats to them, again, and again, “Peace be with you.”  Jesus doesn’t want them to be afraid – Jesus wants them to have peace in their hearts.  And Jesus breathes on them, and gives them the Holy Spirit, and sends them out into the world with the Holy Spirit, God’s power of love, working in them and leading them.  And even when one of the disciples, Thomas, laments that he was not present when Jesus appeared the first time, Jesus re-appears so that all of them would be able to have faith.

Jesus is alive, and Jesus is among us.  The seeds of joy that were dormant in those times of stress and fear have sprouted to life, and the laughter has swallowed up all of the shadows.

Peace be with you.

Receive the Holy Spirit.

Now let us go into the world, led by love and by laughter, so that God’s joy might reach to every corner.

May it be so.

Amen.

"Hope, Even as the River is Rising" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

Sunday April 21, 2019 (Easter Sunday)

Scripture:  Luke 24:1-12

 

I have to confess that I’ve been struggling over the past several days, wondering how to preach the resurrection in a corner of the world that is anticipating flooding in the very near future.  Here in the church, we are celebrating Easter with joy and fanfare, yet outside of these walls, people are filling and stacking sandbags and moving furniture and belongings to higher ground.  The contrast has weighed heavily with me as I figured out what to say this morning.

But when I turned to our scripture reading, I noticed that it isn’t filled with unrestrained joy.  When the women, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James approached the tomb, they were mourning the death of Jesus.  Two days earlier, they had placed the body of one whom they loved in the tomb, and they were returning with spices to finish the preparation for permanent burial.  Their hearts were likely heavy with grief, their feet dragging in anticipation of the job that they had to do.

When they got to the tomb and they saw that the great heavy stone that had blocked the entrance had been rolled to the side, and they saw that the body that they were looking for wasn’t there, they weren’t excited – they were perplexed, they were confused.

And when two men in dazzling clothes appeared and stood beside them, they weren’t jubilant – they were terrified.

It is only when they were reminded of Jesus’ words to them, telling them that he was to die and rise again on the third day, that a realization of what has happened dawns on the women.  They realize that Jesus’ body hasn’t been dragged away by wild animals; they realize that Jesus’ body hasn’t been moved by the Roman soldiers; they realize that Jesus must have risen from the dead.

It is only then that this small group of women can return to the rest of the disciples and tell them what they have seen.

And even then, most of the disciples don’t believe them.  It is only Peter who goes to the tomb and sees only the linen cloths sitting there.  No Jesus, no body.  And Peter returned home in amazement, in wonder.

Do you notice who is missing in today’s reading?  There is no Jesus in our reading today.  No body, no resurrected one.  There is only the empty tomb, and a missing Jesus.

And the other thing that is missing from this reading is joy.  The characters move from confusion to terror to wonder.  They haven’t reached the point of being able to rejoice yet.

Today’s reading is not a story of the resurrected Jesus – it’s a story of the empty tomb; and with the empty tomb, it’s as if the rug has been pulled out from under the disciples’ feet.  As the old saying go, there is nothing certain in life except death and taxes, and now we can’t even trust death.

The empty tomb shakes things up.  The empty tomb changes the world as they knew it.  The empty tomb means that nothing can ever be the same again.

The resurrected Jesus will appear to the disciples later on.  The joy of encountering their risen Lord will come, if we continue to read the story.  But today, we are given the story of the empty tomb and a missing body.

The empty tomb is the fulfillment of all of the teaching that Jesus has given to his disciples – all of his teaching about turning the world upside down, all of his teaching about the last being first and the first being last, all of his teaching about the topsy-turvy kingdom of God.  With the empty tomb, even death and its permanence have been overturned.  The empty tomb means that something has fundamentally changed in the world, and the world can never be the same again.

And so the empty tomb issues a challenge to all of us who gather this morning, peering in to see that there is no body.  The world has been radically changed, shifted on its axis.  The question we need to ask ourselves is how do our lives reflect this change?  How have our lives been transformed by our encounter with this new way of being?  How do we live our lives in the shadow of the empty tomb?

It has been a challenging journey that we have been on this week.  Last Sunday we followed Jesus into Jerusalem in a parade whose joy carried overtones of fear.  We have shared a final meal with Jesus where he spoke of his upcoming death and instructed us to serve and love one another.  We have stayed with Jesus as he was arrested, as he was put on trial, as he was crucified, as he died, and as his body was laid in a tomb.

But now we are back at that tomb again, and the tomb is empty.  The resurrection is real, and the resurrection is here, and the resurrection is now.

Easter and the resurrection is the source of our hope.  We know that all of us pass through Good Friday periods in our lives.  Times of sickness, times of grief, times of fear, times of pain, times of anxiety, times with the river waters rise and the land floods.  And yet because of the empty tomb and the resurrection, we know that Good Friday can’t last forever – we know that Easter is coming.

Easter is coming!  Easter is here!  The tomb is empty!  Christ is not here, for Christ has risen!  Hallelujah!

Easter Sunrise Service, as we gathered on the shore

of the Wolastoq (St. John) River

Photo Credit:  Josie Pike

"Whom are we Following?" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

April 14, 2019 (Palm Sunday)
Scripture:  Luke 19:28-44

It’s Ancient Jerusalem at the time of the Passover.  This city that normally has 40,000 residents is hosting 200,000 visitors – pilgrims from all over the known world, all making their way to the temple to remember the deliverance of the Israelite people from slavery in Egypt.  The streets are crowded, noisy, chaotic.  Everywhere you turn, there are people – people on foot, people with animals, people selling things, people buying things.  A cacophony of languages fills the air.

It is a time of celebration – after all, Passover is the feast that remembers back to the time of the Exodus, back to the time when the angel of death passed over the homes of the Israelite people who were slaves in Egypt, passed over their homes sparing the firstborn sons of Israel, scaring the Pharaoh into setting the people free from slavery, not even giving them time for the bread to rise, sending them out with un-risen, unleavened bread for the journey.

It is a time for celebration, remembering this deliverance, re-membering the story, as pilgrims and families gather and re-enact the story of their deliverance.  But there are also tensions in the air this Passover.

For the Israelite people are once again living under oppression.  The Roman Empire is now in charge of the Promised Land.  People are still nominally free – free to go about their lives, free to practice their religion, free to come and go.  But hanging over them is the Pax Romana – the Roman Peace – a peace that is enforced by violence – a peace that will make you think that you are free… until you do something that makes the Romans feel threatened.

And into this city rides Jesus.  One more pilgrim amidst hundreds of thousands of pilgrims, coming to celebrate the feast of the Passover in the temple.  And yet there is something that sets Jesus apart from the rest of the pilgrims.  Something that causes the crowds to spread their cloaks on the road, honouring his passage.  Something that causes the crowds to shout, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”

Today, Palm Sunday, marks the beginning of Holy Week.  Over the next week, we are going to be traveling with Jesus through his final week in Jerusalem.  What begins today with a parade and shouts and cheers and acclamations will continue with discussions and arguments with the leaders in Jerusalem.  It will continue with a final meal shared by Jesus and his disciples.  It will continue with Jesus’ arrest and torture and trial and death sentence.  It will continue with Jesus being nailed to a cross and left to die.  And then when the whole world is silent with grief, this holiest of weeks will end with the surprise and joy of the resurrection.

But as we begin this journey of Holy Week, now might be a good opportunity to pause and ask, “Who is this Jesus?”  What does Jesus mean to you in your life, as he enters Jerusalem accompanied by a cheering crowd?  What is it about Jesus that makes us want to stay with him and follow him through the week ahead?

Let’s begin with our scripture from last week, where Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, anointed Jesus with expensive perfumed oil.  The word “Christ” or “Messiah” means the Anointed One; and so by anointing Jesus, Mary has turned him in to a Messiah, into an anointed one.  Is Jesus our Messiah?

And what do we mean by Messiah?  The ancient Israelite people were expecting a Messiah, a great military leader who would save them from Roman oppression.  And so is Jesus our Messiah in the sense of a warrior, or is there some other way in which he “saves” us?

Whether we understand that we are saved because Jesus paid the price for our lives; or whether we understand that we are saved because Jesus taught a different way of being; or whether we understand that we are saved because God became human so that humanity could be made holy; or whether we understand that we are saved because Jesus defeated all of the evil in the world – there are so many different ways of understanding salvation.  We don’t know how, but what we can proclaim is that God saves us through Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah.  And so as we head in to Holy Week, are you following Jesus the Messiah, the one who saves us?

The crowds who are following him hail Jesus as a king.  “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”  Is Jesus a king?  He is riding in to the city accompanied by a parade in the same way that a king is, even though he is riding a donkey rather than a warhorse.  He is soon going to be crowned, even though he will be crowned with thorns rather than with gold.  He is soon going to be raised up, though he will be enthroned on a cross rather than a throne.

But what do we mean when we call Jesus a king?  In New Brunswick in 2019, we don’t have much of a reference point for kings!  But when we call Jesus our King or our Lord, I think that what we’re saying is that Jesus has the ultimate authority over our lives; and if Jesus has the ultimate authority over our lives, than nothing else can.  If Jesus is king, then Caesar can’t be.  If Jesus is king, then money can’t be.  If Jesus is king, then hockey can’t be.  If Jesus is king, then fame and the quest for popularity can’t be.  And so as we head in to Holy Week, are you following Jesus, the king?

Jesus also acts as a prophet in today’s reading.  Is Jesus a prophet?

Jesus looks at the city before him, and he weeps.  He sees a city that has turned away from God, and he weeps for the loss.  He sees a time when the city will be destroyed by outside forces, and he weeps for the loss.

Prophets see the world through God’s eyes, prophets notice where the world turns away from God’s plan for the world, and prophets point people back to God.  And so as we head in to Holy Week, are you following Jesus, a prophet of God?

I wonder too, if Jesus might also be an innocent bystander caught up in affairs out of his control.  He is one person, living in an insignificant corner of the Roman Empire; and while he did irritate the political authorities, his primary focus seems to have been deepening people’s relationship with God.  There was tension on a global scale – maybe if Jesus had lived in a different time, in a different place, then he might have slipped under the radar.

If we look around the world today, there are so many innocent bystanders caught up and killed in things much bigger than themselves.  A cyclone kills over 1000 people in Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and Malawi.  Young men are shot by police for “Driving While Black.”  Climate Refugees are forced to flee due to rising sea levels, droughts, or wildfires.  Our LGBTQ+ Siblings around the world are being persecuted and killed because of their gender or because of who they love.  If all of the innocent bystanders lived in a different time or a different place, would they be able to survive and thrive?  And so as we head in to Holy Week, are you following Jesus, an innocent bystander who is caught up in forces that he can’t control?

Or is Jesus God Incarnate, God’s Word-Made-Flesh, the second person of the Holy Trinity, a God who chooses to die?  In Jesus, God becomes human, and so our humanity, our flesh, our human experiences are brought into contact with God.  Because of Jesus, the whole range of human experiences have been brought into contact with God and made holy – from love to suffering to joy to sorrow to pain to separation to fear.  And because Jesus died, even death itself has been brought into contact with God and been made holy.  If God dies, then death can never again have the final word.  If God dies, then death is defeated by contact with God.  And so as we head in to Holy Week, are you following Jesus who is God?

We have a long and emotional journey ahead of us this week.  Sometimes it might feel like a challenge to put one foot in front of the other to keep going.  Sometimes it might feel tempting to put our head in the sand and stay locked in our houses rather than acknowledging the path that Jesus is on.  But if we are committed to following Jesus all the way to the cross, and then beyond to the resurrection, I invite us all to take some time to consider who it is that we are following, and why we choose to follow him.  Is Jesus a Messiah?  Is Jesus a king?  Is Jesus a prophet?  Is Jesus an innocent bystander?  Is Jesus God Incarnate, the Word Made Flesh?  Is he all of these things?  Is he something else?  Who are you following into Jerusalem today?

"Entry of Christ into Jerusalem" - Wilhelm Morgner 

Public Domain

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wilhelm_Morgner_001.jpg

"Embodiment" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

April 7, 2019

Scripture:  John 12:1-8 (with brief references to Isaiah 43:16-21)

Jesus has gathered for a meal with his friends.  His disciples are with him, and they are eating at the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus.  Not too long ago, Jesus has wept at the death of Lazarus, then, at the pleading of his sisters, raised him to life again.

It is a cozy scene.  We can imagine oil lamps lit around the room.  We can imagine the intimacy that this small group might have shared.

Yet outside the walls of the house, the air must have crackled with the tension.  Raising Lazarus from the dead had made the powers that be very uncomfortable with Jesus.  After all, if he can raise people from the dead, what’s to stop him from overthrowing the political and religious structures?  Plots were being hatched in the places of power to kill both Jesus and Lazarus.

But our story today keeps us inside that house in Bethany.  Mary, sister of Martha and Lazarus, enters the room and falls at Jesus’ feet.  This isn’t the first time she has fallen at his feet.  The last time that they met, Mary fell at Jesus’ feet weeping and berating him, “If you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died!”  But this time, she falls at his feet in gratitude and hospitality.  She takes out a bottle of perfume that would have cost a full year’s salary and she pours it over Jesus’ feet, then rubs it in, and wipes away the excess with her long hair.  And the smell of that beautiful, expensive gift wafts through the air of the whole house.

It is a beautiful story, but one that can make us uncomfortable.  Maybe we are uncomfortable with how sensuous it is – Jesus’ bare feet, Mary’s long hair, the extravagant gift of anointing.  Or maybe we are uncomfortable because we find ourselves agreeing just a little bit too much with Judas, the betrayer, thinking that the money spent on that perfume might have been better spent purchasing food and blankets for the poor; even though the narrator helpfully tells us that Judas really wanted to embezzle the money instead.  But still.

This story marks the start of the Passion narrative.  As soon as Jesus and his disciples leave this home, they are going to travel a little under two miles to the gates of Jerusalem, and there they will enter in the parade that we are going to read about next Sunday.  And a few days after that, Jesus is going to have his final gathering with his disciples, he is going to be arrested, and he is going to be nailed to a cross.  This final sequence of events in Jesus’ life begins with our story today.

In the days ahead, in the final days of Jesus’ life, Jesus is going to be very human, living in his human body.  Today his feet have been anointed in an act of extravagant generosity and intimacy.

Nard, the perfumed oil that Mary uses, was one of the components in the incense used in the temple, to carry prayers from humans to God.  As the oil was poured over Jesus’ feet, it would have evoked memories of prayers offered in the temple for the others who were present.  It might have also reminded them of the oil poured over the kings head at the time of coronation.  It might even have reminded them of the fragrant incense that is buried with bodies.  And if anyone present was familiar with the stories of Jesus’ birth, they might even have been reminded of the gifts brought to him by the magi, gifts that included the other fragrant incenses of myrrh and frankincense.

This is a moment in time that looks backward, and also looks forward to what is ahead; but it is also a moment in time that keeps us very grounded in the present moment, as Jesus’ feet are anointed and wiped dry.

I wonder if it is Jesus’ feet that make us uncomfortable.  Feet can sometimes make us feel uncomfortable.  We keep them hidden in socks and shoes.  When our shoes and socks are off, we feel vulnerable.  Some of us paint our toenails in an attempt to make them more presentable.  When people are asked to take their shoes off in a doctor’s or physiotherapist’s office, they often react with embarrassment.

And here is Jesus, with bare feet, having his feet anointed by a woman.  Here is Jesus in all of his vulnerable humanity.

We proclaim that the God who created the heavens and the earth became human in the person of Jesus; the Word of God that spoke creation into being has become human flesh.  And here, the Word-Made-Flesh is having his flesh, his feet, anointed.  It is a story that can fill us with awe if we pause to consider what is happening here.

And yet it is.  God is.  The great and holy “I AM” of ancient scriptures is here reclining before us, feet exposed, allowing them to be ministered to.

So often, the world tries to make us ashamed of our physical bodies.  So often, the world tries to make us conform to unrealistic standards, tries to dictate how we should present ourselves.  Yet here is Jesus, embracing the flesh that he has become.

And because God became human in Jesus, our humanity, our flesh and blood, has been brought into contact with God.  And so instead of being ashamed of, instead of rejecting our physical bodies, maybe we are called to embrace them in the way that Jesus did.  Our fleshy-ness has been made holy because of Jesus.

This morning, we baptized Eldon and welcomed him into our church family – into the family of Christ that encircles the whole world.  But we didn’t baptize him with words only.  We baptized him in his physical body with water.  We celebrate every aspect of him – his Eldon-ness, his body and his spirit.

Jesus allowed Mary to minister to his physical body.  He didn’t reject his physical body in favour of spirit.  I wonder if maybe we can do the same?  If we can learn to not only accept, but to love our physical selves – to enjoy our physical senses, and to respect our bodies as the home of God, as the temple of the Holy Spirit as the apostle Paul writes.

God is always doing a new thing.  A new thing began in Eldon’s life this morning.  A new thing begins in each of our lives when we wake up each morning and get out of bed.  Let us celebrate our bodies; let us celebrate our lives; let us celebrate each gift from God that every day brings to us!

May it be so.  Amen.

JESUS MAFA. "Jesus speaks about forgiveness," from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=48384 [retrieved April 7, 2019]. Original source: http://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr