Category Archives: Pentecost Sunday

Candles and campfires

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The sermon today is about containing the flames. Recognizing limits. Respecting boundaries. Without recognizing limits, respecting boundaries and containing the impulse energy, we have problems. Even big ones.

Wildfires are already burning out of control in Western Canada this year (Tait et al., 2024). Hopefully the upcoming wildfire season won’t be as bad as last year’s, when a record eighteen and a half million hectares went up in flames—an area twice the size of Portugal—shattering the previous annual record almost three times over (Milman, 2023). The signs aren’t good. Even locally. I don’t recall ever having a fire ban in effect at the end of March, as we had early this Spring in the Ottawa Valley.

In the Gospel for today, Pentecost Sunday, Jesus announces limits that we would do well to acknowledge. “I still have many things to say to you,” he tells his disciples. “But you cannot bear them now” (John 15:12). To curb our insatiable desire to know it all now, straight up. The limits of knowing everything. The limits of our capacity to understand the whole truth all at once. Can we live with that? Can we live positively in that state of unknowing?

What Jesus points to in this Holy Spirit season of the church is our transformation, our growth. And this transformation is not a one-time-event that happens on the surface of things. It is an ongoing process, a deepening journey regardless of our age and life experience. We never stop learning. We never stop realizing we don’t know it all.

One of my favourite activities year-round but in the summer I can take it outside, is lighting a small flame. Inside, it’s candles. Outside, it’s in a fire pit. But fire pits have a circle of stones or a steel wheel drum encasing, encircling and holding the otherwise dangerous fire.

The shape of the container is important. Most candles and campfires are round. The fire of passion, of love, of deep feeling is contained in the circle. The circular container describes anything we can see in its wholeness and depth, slowly coming into focus. (McGilchrist, 2019, p. 447). How so?

Contrary to what we might think, circular motion brings together opposite points. Perpetually. Difference is not something to avoid or deny in striving for unity, for harmony. The unity, the oneness, of which Jesus prayed for his disciples in the Gospel last week (John 17: 11), is not a melting pot where distinctions are erased. It’s quite the opposite.

Two wildflowers growing in the northeast at this time of year illustrate the value of difference. Canada Goldenrod and New England Aster grow together. Especially when the soil is damp enough, neither normally grows alone in the fields (W. Kimmerer, 2015, p. 40). The gold of goldenrod and the deep royal purple of aster, together. Alone, according to botanist, scientist and writer Robin Wall Kimmerer, each is a “botanical superlative” (p. 41). Together, however, the visual effect is stunning. Purple and gold.

Why do they stand beside each other when they could grow alone? A random event that just happens to be beautiful? But Einstein himself, the consummate scientist, said that “God doesn’t play dice with the universe.”

According to the colour wheel, of course, purple and gold are complementary colours, as different in nature as could be. In an 1890 paper on colour perception, Goethe, who was both a scientist and poet, wrote that “the colors diametrically opposed to each other … are those which reciprocally evoke each other in the eye” (cited in W. Kimmerer, p.45).

So, why do goldenrod and asters grow together and not apart, alone? Because, in short, pollination.

Though bees perceive many flowers differently than humans do, due to their ability to perceive additional spectra such as ultraviolet radiation, it is not the case when it comes to goldenrods and asters. “As it turns out, golden rod and asters appear very similarly to bee eyes and human eyes … Their striking contrast when they grow together makes them the most attractive target in the whole meadow, a beacon for bees … Growing together, both receive more pollinator visits than they would if they were growing alone” (W. Kimmerer, p. 46).

To perceive contrast and difference, is better for the whole. In our growth, spiritually, we see the world more fully when we see both, when we recognize and value difference. Belonging to the circle, being one with another is a statement of faith that in our diversity we find unity. In our differences we grow and benefit not only ourselves but the whole world.

The church is not an exclusive country club for a select, elite few who are like minded and look the same. The church is for all. The church realizes its true identity the more diverse it is, the more variety of people we encounter in the circle is a testimony to the truth of God’s design, God’s reign.

The circle of our planet’s atmosphere protects us, on a large scale, from the sun’s fire. The northern lights, or the aurora borealis, are beautiful dancing ribbons of light that have captivated people for millennia. Some of you got up in the middle of the night last week to witness this cinematic atmospheric event in Canada. But for all its beauty, this spectacular light show is a rather violent event. 

The northern lights are created when energized particles from the sun slam into Earth’s upper atmosphere at speeds of up to 72 million kilometres per hour. But our planet’s magnetic field protects us from the onslaught (Space.com).

We need containment, as humans, why? Because our love is not perfect. Our love fails time and time again. And we give in so often to the dangerous fires of hatred and impulsive action that excludes and harms others.

Nevertheless, there are moments. Our human perspective can perceive moments of the unbounded, universal, fire of God when we literally and spiritually look to the heavens. This incredible power, witnessed by God’s creation, is a power reflecting God’s love for us all.

God’s fiery love cannot be doused. God’s love reigns. Because the “ruler of this world has been condemned” (John 16:11). The ruler of our hating impulses, the ruler of our retributive justice, our violence, the ruler of the unbridled flames of this fire will be doused. And the reign of God will unite and hold us all in loving embrace forever.

References:

McGilchrist, I. (2019). The master and his emissary: The divided brain and the making of the western world (2nd Ed.). Yale University Press.

Milman, O. (2023, November 9) After a record year of wildfires, will Canada ever be the same again? The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/nov/09/canada-wildfire-record-climate-crisis – :~:text=Fire ravaged Canada in 2023,record nearly three times over

Tait, C., Woo, A., Link, H., & Arnett, K. (2024, May 14). Fort McMurray residents to evacuate as wildfire approaches community. The Globe and Mail. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/canada/article-fort-mcmurray-residents-ordered-to-evacuate-as-wildfire-approaches/

W. Kimmerer, R. (2015). Braiding sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge and the teachings of plants. Penguin.

And so it begins

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The chancel on Pentecost-Confirmation Sunday (Faith Ottawa, photo by M.Malina, 2023)

Dear Confirmands,

Confession: Over the past two years of meeting and Confirmation programs, we’ve barely skimmed the surface of what we can know about the Christian faith from a Lutheran perspective:

We’ve just scratched the surface of the biblical story and sacraments. We’ve only dipped our toes into the shallows of the otherwise deep waters.  We’ve said the Lord’s Prayer together and read through the Creed. We’ve talked about the Commandments and affirmed Article Four of the Augsburg Confession—that we are saved by grace alone and nothing we can do or know will ultimately save us.

And maybe that’s the point. Because here we are confirming you today! Despite what from one perspective can be seen as a rather lean program. And yet our action today underscores this fundamental Lutheran belief: We cannot by our own strength and efforts earn God’s favour.

Many of our senior members will be eager to tell your stories of large confirmation classes where they had to sit for hours memorizing scriptures, learning by heart the entire catechism and singing the Reformation hymns like “A Mighty Fortress is Our God”. And that’s not even describing the anxiety surrounding the final exam before their confirmation.

Another confession: I think we have long passed the day of doing confirmation that way.

And still you are today being confirmed in the faith. Besides affirming we are saved by grace alone, our action today underscores another very important understanding of our faith: Confirmation merely emphasizes you are at the start of a journey today, not the end of it.

Over the last several months groups of Lutheran youth leaders from around the world—specifically from Africa, Europe and the Americas—gathered to set priorities for the church today. These priorities will be part of the deliberations at the Lutheran World Federation Assembly in Poland which I will attend in September later this year.

Some of these priorities agreed by Lutheran youth leaders, ages 18-30, were: eco-theology, justice in community, inclusive and accessible churches, youth leadership and mental health.[1] Clearly there is a future for the church because there is so much to be done by you and others your age. And you’ve already started on this journey:

Even though you didn’t memorize anything, or read through every word or explanation in Martin Luther’s catechism, you did feed the hungry and provide clothing to the poor. You did plant a garden. You did, by handing out coffee and slices of pie, put a smile on the faces of homeless people in downtown Ottawa. You ate together, shared laughs and silly stories. You engaged in service projects around the city. You worshipped and prayed together.

But it’s not over. Those activities can and will happen again. The one word we should eradicate from the lexicon and culture of Confirmation Sunday is ‘graduation’. You are not graduating today. You haven’t completed anything, really.

Today is not a graduation. It’s really the start. It’s a journey you are on—we are all on—to grow in faith. That’s why each of you is receiving the gift of a small tree–a white spruce. Because like anything that grows, it will need regular care and nurturing. And it will grow over time.

You may doubt everything we do today. And that’s ok. It’s a journey. You may not be sure of God today and what God promises you. And that’s ok.

It’s ok because what we did accomplish these past couple of years was community. Not perfectly. But we related with one another, and spent time together doing meaningful things. We got to know each other a bit. And when one of us was missing from class, we asked about them—where they were and how they were doing.

And that’s what the church today needs: Forming relationships in faith. And maybe for some of us older ones, re-forming relationships of faith.

Confirmation is an affirmation of faith—a saying yes to everything good. To our baptism. To God’s grace. Saying, even though we may not be 100% sure and even though we don’t know everything, we do know this:

God loves you and God will be with you forever. God loves everyone else and will be with us forever.

[1] Scan recent posts in the Lutheran World Federation Youth Instagram account @lwfyouth https://www.instagram.com/lwfyouth/

“And so it begins”; a sermon for Pentecost-Confirmation Sunday, by Rev. Martin Malina, May 2023

Sent in, then out

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We normally talk about the work of the Holy Spirit as a ‘sending out’. When the Holy Spirit works, it’s like a centrifugal force pushing us ever outward. When he first appears to his disciples following his resurrection, Jesus tells them, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you …”[1]

We have devised images to help us imagine this outward-destined power: The missional energy is likened to a rocket ship blasting from the earth into the limitless universe. We are quick to remind ourselves that our very identity based on the original Greek word for church – ecclesia– means “a people called out.” You have heard me and others preach about going beyond the walls of the church in the programs we offer and the services we provide.

Nonetheless, in all our missional enthusiasm around this truth the Holy Spirit is first given to us. Before we go out, we must go in. We must first traverse and discover the Spirit in the regions of our hearts. In order for the Holy Spirit to send us out into the world anew, the Holy Spirit must first come into us, as Jesus came to his disciples cowering behind locked doors.

The Gospel text assigned for this Pentecost Sunday focuses our attention on the image of Jesus breathing the Holy Spirit into his disciples. “He breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’”[2]Before the disciples were sent out into the world, speaking in their native tongues, doing even greater deeds, and empowered by the Spirit of God, Jesus came to them. They had to receive and claim this gift within the containers of their own gifts, talents, abilities and personalities.

And Jesus enters into the locked rooms of our hearts. Locked by fear of the unknown future. Locked by anger for all our losses and hurts. Into the spaces of our most intimate lives. Into the homes and rooms of our daily work, play and rest. Where we are sheltered-in-place, where we are quarantined and secluded and physically distant. Into our inner beings – this is where the Spirit of the living God enters us – before anything else can happen.

It’s difficult to accept and receive the Holy Spirit, the peace and forgiveness of God at the best of times let alone when we are anxious, afraid and angry. While spending more time at home, more time by ourselves. It’s almost as if we will react against the possibility, the notion, that Jesus can come into the messiness and disorderliness of our inner sanctums, homes, rooms and hearts. We knee-jerk in reaction, saying that the sooner we can get back to ‘normal’, the sooner we can get ‘out there’ and be allowed together again, the better. 

Do we refuse to consider that the work of the Spirit can happen ‘in isolation’ or in minimalist ways – when we are by ourselves, or locked-down, or physically distant from each other?  Do we shackle God in constraints of our own imagination and belief?

One of the main upshots of Martin Luther’s Christian education was the primacy of the home. His popular ‘table talks’ were formed around the intention of making the home the primary place for spiritual formation. In fact the Small Catechismwas originally devised to be read and discussed among members of the household – not in the classroom, not in the church building, not in some large group gathering or Christian Education forum. But in the home. 

Perhaps this time of quarantine is inviting us to reconsider and reacquaint ourselves with what Martin Luther had really intended from the start. Here is an opportunity to rediscover and practice our faith – in good Lutheran tradition!

In a recent video conference call with other clergy, we talked about a scenario that someone had heard of. Whether it actually happened, or was being considered I am not sure. But a baby was born to first-time parents during the pandemic lockdown. And the parents wanted to have their newborn baptized. What to do when no one knows when the church can gather together physically again? It could be months.

So, they talked about it with their pastor. And they came up with this plan. The parents would hold their newborn in the foyer entrance inside their house, bowl of water at hand. The pastor would stand outside on the front step of the closed door. They could see each other and hear each other speak through the glass of the door. And while the pastor introduced a brief liturgy for baptism, the parents would then pour water over the tiny head of their newborn child, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. In their own home. Where two or three were gathered in God’s name and presence.

Life is not put on hold because of this pandemic. During this time of self-isolation, quarantine, sheltering-in-place, seclusion – whatever you want to call it – couples are still getting married, babies are still being born. Life is still happening.

The Spirit of God still blows in us and through us to be the imperfect yet beloved vessels, carriers, of God’s love, forgiveness in our homes. And, therefore, for the world. There is joy in that.

[1]John 19:21

[2]19:22