Tomato plants require abundant water. Before the recent rains, I was out pretty much every evening watering our one tomatoe plant in a small raised bed. It concerned me, in the heat and dryness of the past couple of months, when I missed a day or two in a row. I was worried that I wasn’t doing my part to ensure a healthy yield at the end of the summer.

When we received the deluge of much needed rain in the last week, I could see the plant fill out immediately and expand even out over the edge of the box. How much it needed the rain! How much it depended on it, to grow.

I realized, in that mundane example, how interdependent life is on this earth. That it truly takes all parts, all members of creation, to participate in the maintenance and growth of life. I did my small part when it wasn’t raining. And when the time was right, beyond my doing, the much-needed rainfall did its part.

These days, we face a new beginning. We are like Moses and the people of Israel on the mountain looking into the Promised Land. We are like Moses and the people of Israel looking into the Promised Land, and considering how best to cross the Jordan and live in this new land. This new land, I call the post-pandemic church. We are now in liminal, inbetween space, one foot in the near past, and one foot begging to take the next step.

It’s a good time to recall and recover the basic question of who we are, as the people of God. “Why congregations?” The first point is that congregations create a place for deep social bonding.^[1] Perhaps the key word in this phrase is ‘deep’. Or, ‘deeper’ than what we might initially think.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus is rejected by his home town. His response to this rejection redefines what relationships look like in the reign of God on earth. And, it goes deeper than what we might initially think.

For one thing, it is often a social bonding born out of conflict and difference—as Jesus himself experienced. “And they took offence at him.”^[2] Whether with his family members or hometown neighbours who only knew him as a carpenter’s son, Jesus recognized our knee-jerk capacity to exploit our differences and assume that what makes us different from one another is somehow bad and unacceptable. And must be rejected outright.

The deeper bonding is not about overlooking or denying our differences. It is about respecting those differences while acknowledging our deeper, common humanity underneath the surface of human interaction.

The deeper social bonding that congregations, churches, and communities of faith offer and from whom each of us will benefit is a bonding that goes beyond traditional family definitions, social club constructs, meetings of the ‘like-minded’. These may serve an ego-purpose of feeling good.

But the reign of God is much more than feeling good, or everyone conforming to some arbitrary standard of behaviour. It is recognizing how interdependent we are on this planet Earth.

I like illustrating truth from stories on the big screen or in books. I know not everyone here is a sci-fi movie buff, so please bear with me as I give you an example from what is now an old movie. Do you remember back in 1997 a movie called “Contact”?

In an interview with astronomer, Dr. Jill Tarter, she was asked about her work searching for life on other planets. Jill was the inspiration for the main character, Dr. Ellie Arroway, in that movie, staring Jody Foster.

During the interview, Dr. Tarter often referred to ourselves as “earthlings”. While this term is not one we normally use to describe our common humanity, she suggests that understanding ourselves as earthlings might just save the world.

She says, that calling ourselves “earthlings” is like “holding up a mirror to every individual on this planet and saying, ‘See, all of you? You’re all the same, when compared to something out there that had evolved independently.’”^[3]

This broad perspective helps us notice our differences “over which we’re so willing to shed blood, when, indeed, we are all human. We are all earthlings.”^[4] And if you see yourself as an earthling before you see yourself as American, Canadian, Indigenous, Asian, rich, poor, privileged, Muslim, Christian, gay, straight, etc., perhaps we can have a more fruitful conversation and deepen the social bonds in the community of faith.

And not reject someone for being different.

Jesus responds to his rejection at Nazareth not by giving up nor conforming to the pressures of his local tribe to just ‘be like them’. Jesus responds by moving forward in God’s mission to go out into the world not depending on anything else besides the promise and vision of the all-inclusive Gospel of Christ. “He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two … [and they] cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.”^[5]

The Gospel ends with a call for repentence – a turning around. “So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent.”^[6] In the Gospel repentence is not just for individuals. We are at our best, not journeying alone as autonomous individuals doing our own thing, even with the Lord. We are at our best when we are in community.

The word ‘devil’ comes from the Greek which means, ‘to divide’, bring ‘discord’ and separate. Good religion realigns us. Good religion will always bring different people to be together in one place, to be a congregation and a faith community that includes rather than excludes, widens the circle rather than shrinking it, follows Jesus into the world rather than circling the wagons.

Those tomatoes needed me as much as I needed them. Not just for me or my family and friends to enjoy eating at the end of a season. But to remind me of my place from the larger perspective, to remind me that while I may play an important part in watering them when it’s dry, ultimately I depend on and trust in God’s timing and God’s gifts; and, to remind me that if anything my job is to pay attention to just how interdependent we all are in God’s reign. And love others, for that.

The heart of Christian community is the heart of God, who is community. For Christians, God is not one person, but three. I believe that unless we live in communion with one another, our witness to a God who is first and foremost community will fall on deaf ears.^[7]

There is no more important place for you in the community of faith, no more important job for you to do in the community of faith, than starting by just being yourself, and doing what small thing you can, as part of the interdependent web of relationships to which we all belong. Just be you. Because that’s who God created you to be, out of a great and deep love. And then, turn to another, and love them for being who they are, created also in the image of God.

Amen.

---

^[1] Cameron Trimble, “Why Congregations?”,  https://convergenceus.org/category/cpr-connects/, 10 June 2021

^[2] Mark 6:3

^[3] Cited in Cameron Trimble, ibid.

^[4] Ibid.

^[5] Mark 6:7,13

^[6] Mark 6:12

^[7] Br. James Koester, “Community” in Brother, Give Us A Word (www.ssje.org, 17 June 2021)

Mark 4:35-41 is one of my favourite stories about Jesus from the Gospels. It is a parable for us, today, whenever the storms of our lives confront the presence of Jesus …

As the weather turns from mild to severe, listen to this guided meditation to help you reflect more deeply on this story, and what it means for your life. Wherever you are seated right now, I invite you to become quiet in your heart and mind. Notice your breath. Feel your body pressing down on the seat of your chair. Hear the faithful, regular beating of your heart. You may close your eyes gently …

“You are on the rough seas. Your boat is tossing and turning in the stormy waters. Think of the storms in your own life …. Then . . .

Relax.

Quiet yourself in the space you inhabit right now.

Enjoy the silence.

Let go of the distractions.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Be still.

Relax.

Let all your thoughts, like the birds, fly away far into the sky above.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Imagine . . .

What a great time you have had.

You and your friends have been following Jesus for days now.

You are dead tired, but still content as you find a place to rest in the boat.

Look around at the friends you have made.

Look at Jesus who is sitting at the stern.

How you admire him!

Feel the slow-moving lull of the boat.

Relax as the waves gently lull the boat back and forth.

Back and forth.

Relax.

Some of your friends fall asleep.

Jesus falls asleep, too.

The boat keeps moving across the lake.

You think about the day.

Your mind is just wandering.

The wind starts blowing.

You can tell it is becoming harder to row now.

The current is choppy.

The sky is now black.

Take your turn with the oars.

Work hard against the waves and wind, pushing.

Feel the storm approaching.

The waves begin to surge into the boat.

The water is coming in over the sides.

Everyone is working so hard. Where is the bailer? 

Someone yells out, “Wake up Jesus.

We need his help.

Now.”

You let go of your oar and scramble over the slippery deck towards Jesus.

Wake him up …

Jesus sits up and looks around.

He calls out, “Quiet” to the wind.

The wind stops.

Just like that, the waves settle down and the wind dissipates.

Jesus looks like he wants to go back to sleep.

What just happened?

Jesus looks at all of you and says,

“Why are you so terrified?

Why are you lacking in faith?”

A great awe comes over you.

You wonder,

“Who is this man whom even the sea obeys?”

Stay with this feeling of wonderment.

You crawl back over to where Jesus is resting.

You approach him cautiously.

And you ask him your question,

“Who are you that the sea obeys you?”

Listen to his answer.

Tell him about something in your life that is raging,

a storm in your world,

a situation that could use Jesus’ touch.

When you are finished you hear only the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the boat. For now, you simply rest in Jesus’ presence. Be with him.

It is time to re-enter your space.

Say good-bye for now.

Ask Jesus to lead your way into the rest of the day.

You thank him.

Come back gently.

Open your eyes.

Remember.

This Guided Meditation was adapted from Patty McCulloch, Encountering Jesus: 20 Guided Meditations on His Care and Compassion (Ave Maria Press, 2001).

Thank you for listening.

The play that ended with glory started with a mistake. 

The Finnish player won the face-off. But as the puck drifted behind the Finn, Canadian Nick Paul reached ahead, grabbed the puck and skated full-speed-ahead towards the Finnish goal tender. Paul scored in overtime and won the world championship in ice hockey for Canada last week in Riga, Latvia.

Two weeks earlier, it hadn’t looked so good. The Canadian team had lost their first three games against opponents they were expected to beat. And everyone was, frankly, embarassed for the Canadians and counting them out of the playoff round. An unheard of national travesty!

I was even chirpped by my German cousins after Canada’a loss to Germany in the early going. I didn’t know what to say! But there was a turning point, or turning points. And what started out as a losing cause, a sure demise and failing effort resulted in an unprecedented and surprising path to victory.

Way more important than the result itself was the way in which this group achieved the gold medal. Never before was the journey itself the key, rather than the destination. Without the various elements that came to play in this group’s evolution throughout the tournament, they never would have made it to the podium, let alone the playoffs.

After those first losses and barely scoring any goals, the easy and surely understandable way would have been to stop believing. The natural instinct would have been to stop hoping and give up on the dream. The knee jerk would have been to start blaming someone, mistrusting each other on the ice and stop listening to their coaching staff. The easy way after their losses would have been to just go through the motions, and look forward to getting back on the plane to Canada sooner than later.

It is understandable in a worldwide pandemic that has lasted into its second year, that we slip into despair or deny the truth. Denying the truth goes hand-in-hand with despairing.

Selling a house in Ottawa these days ought to be very rewarding, even houses that have structural problems. Because the market is hot and a seller’s dream, one might be tempted to forgoe the inspection which might expose problems you might want to pretend were never there. And still sell your house at a premium, and get away with it.

When you see a crack, what’s your first instinct? Push the pieces back together and patch it over. Eventually a contractor comes with the bad news: there is deep damage here, and if you don’t address it, before long the whole stucture will be fundamentally compromised. You sigh and negotiate. 

We have a surprising capacity to delude ourselves about how broken the structure is. “With enough duct tape and rope, I will get back to normal.”^[1]

For people of faith, as well. In the midst of dislocation and destabalization that the pandemic has inflicted on us, we may very well be tempted to re-stabalize. After all, institutions are durable partly because they obey the law of inertia. It’s in our institutional DNA, especially the church.

And you’ve heard the sentiments: “Let’s return to the building”, “Let’s get back to normal.” It’s a knee jerk reaction to the stress of the unraveling, breaking and the cracking open we have experienced during the pandemic.

Another course of action on this journey is to acknowlege the cracking, the failure and the losses as the bearer of truth for us. It’s not all perfect. Never was. There are cracks in the foundation. Always were.

And that’s ok, because a people humbled by disruption and decline may be a less arrogant and less presumptuous people down the road. We may have fewer illusions about our own power and centrality in our society. We may become more curious, honest and authentic human beings. We may have to work harder at our disciplines. We may finally embrace our mustard seed identity. And finally admit how much we need the true power and wisdom of the Holy Spirit.^[2]

Team Canada would never have found the way to claw out of the basement without embracing and owning their initial losses. They would never have found the way by denying their problems and pretending they deserved the championship before playing anymore games. They would never have found the way without learning to play with each other and knowing each other’s strengths and limitations in the midst of those early struggles.

Irish poet, Seamus Heaney, wrote, “Believe that farthest shore, is reachable from here.”^[3] It’s one thing to believe in that farthest shore. We say it all the time in our creeds and doctrines – to believe in heaven and life after death in Christ, that one day we will be there. Amen.

It’s quite another to believe that farthest shore is reachable from here, from right now in this time and place. From where you are, that farthest shore may appear very far away indeed and unreachable. It may barely be visible on the horizon of your sight line. A vast ocean and seemingly impassable obstacles may stand in the way. And yet, as one used to say, “It’s heaven all the way to heaven …”^[4]

So, believe in that mustard seed of unnoticeable worth. Believe that the beginning of something great begins in honest embrace of who you are, including and especially your failure and brokenness. Know God from your own ordinary even painful experiences of life. And trust these experiences as God-noteworthy and pregnant with possibility and unmeasureable joy. And see in others, equally challenged, as co-pilgrims on the path forward. 

So, the puck drops. Here we go!

---

^[1] Stephanie Spellers, The Church Cracked Open: Disruption, Decline, and New Hope for Beloved Community (Church Publishing, 2021), p.22-23

^[2] See Richard Rohr, “Letting Go of What Used to Be” An Evolving Faith (Daily Meditations: CAC Publications, 3 June 2021) www.cac.org

^[3] Cited in Laurence Freeman, “The Supreme Source of Wisdom” in Sources of Wisdom (Singapore: Meditatio; World Community for Christian Meditation, 2021), p.24-25

^[4] Attributed to Catherine of Siena

Immigrants to Canada, my parents were always conscious of their accents. They spoke publically always conscious and often exceedingly self-critical of how they sounded to others. 

My parents were aware that those who did not share their mother tongue would have to work harder at understanding what they had to say. I suspect my parents noticed in me and my brother—born and schooled in Canada—who did not speak with a Polish accent a great advantage and privilege.

Recently the church celebrated the festival of Pentecost. The central narrative about Pentecost is the multiplicity of languages expressing the good news of God’s Spirit given to the disciples of Jesus. In the Ottawa Ministry Area recorded worship service for Pentecost Sunday the scripture from the book of Acts in the bible was read in half a dozen different languages to illustrate this point.

Our prayers for Pentecost are about the grains of wheat scattered upon the hills, that they be gathered together to become one bread. This is not a prayer for uniformity. Rather, we affirm that we are united in the Spirit, in celebration of our different accents, our uniqueness and our differences.

Because we miss something fundamental in the experience of a faith community when everyone speaks the same accent let alone language. We are missing something in the church today when those who belong must ‘sound’ the same as those who are privileged and born into this culture.

The energy of Pentecost seeks in every generation and in every place to answer the question: Whose accent are we missing in the plethora of voices, in the orchestra of God’s creation? Whose voice is not easily heard by us?

The truth is, we need to work, and sometimes work hard, at understanding each other. The truth is that the practice of faith is ultimately an expression of love for those whose accents we don’t easily understand.

The truth is, none of us speaks God’s mother tongue—which was neither English nor German! The church, from the beginning has never spoken God’s word un-accented. From the beginning, people of faith have always had to interpret, translate and speak God’s foreign tongue to us. Our words about God have always been accented by our createdness, our humaness. We offer only our humanly-interpreted words about God. Each of us speaks with our own accents.

And often words can be misinterpreted, misunderstood. In the Gospel reading from Mark today, those who witness the events around Jesus’ home and family conclude that Jesus “is out of his mind”^[1]. Out of his mind, for expanding the circle of familial love to include Gentiles, Jews, the working poor, the disabled, the sick, women, tax collectors and sexual outcasts.^[2] The accusation leveled against Jesus comes from a place of denial and rejection of something that the second century people of Capernaum needed to hear.

“Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother,” Jesus concludes.^[3]

Perhaps we, too, at this point in history in this nation—Canada—Christians need to hear, just listen and not speak. Now, at this time, just listen to the voices that are missing — the voices of grieving Indigenous families crying out in pain. And if we are to say anything at all, only to mourn alongside those whose children’s and grandchildren’s remains were discovered beside a residential school in Kamloops, British Columbia, recently. 215 children. Only mourn, and listen. As if it were the remains of our own children and grandchildren discovered in the playground beside their own school.

Our task as followers of Christ in the Spirit of God is to constantly learn new langauges. By that I don’t mean we rush out and take courses in how to speak French or Spanish or Cantonese. What I mean by learning new languages is to nurture a respect in our hearts and minds for the various accents that we hear in our communities, accents which have always been there, and accents with which we might not be too familiar, that are foreign to us.

And by listening to one another in this accented and diverse community we bring a sense of curiosity, wonder and interest. By doing so, “our inner nature is being renewed day by day,” as Saint Paul puts it in his letter to the Corinthian church.^[4]

The multiplicity of books and forms of speech in the bible itself testifies that divine speech must come through human tongues, must come through our unique voices and accents, to be heard. In this way, the accented word can be experienced as a word of welcome, and a word of grace, for all.

---

^[1] Mark 3:21

^[2] Wendy Farley, “Mark 3:20-35” in David L. Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor, eds., Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary Year B Volume 3 (Kenutcky: WJK Press, 2009), p.118

^[3] Mark 3:35

^[4] 2 Corinthians 4:16