Who are you gonna call?

The induction, or installation, of a new pastor is a day to celebrate not only leadership in the church, but an occasion to review the role and function of the relationship between pastor, people and God.

Recently I was elected as “Dean” of the Ottawa/St Lawrence Conference. I have spent some time reviewing and reflecting on leadership, as a result. The jokes in comparison to ‘Dean Martin’ are interesting. I may be too young to appreciate the entertainment of ‘King Cool’ — member of the infamous ‘rat pack’. But I am old enough to remember watching the original, iconic Bill Murray and Dan Aykroyd film ‘Ghostbusters’.

A nerdy tween in the early 1980s, I easily got hooked on the catchy theme song whose repetitive mantra was: “Who are you gonna call? — Ghostbusters!” The team would respond to complaints and investigate paranormal activity. Then, they would eliminate any potential threats. If ghosts appeared in someone’s house, “Who are you gonna call? — Ghostbusters!”

Every individual, every family, every community, every nation, every church — has ‘ghosts’ in the closet. And I think the ghostbuster culture has influenced the culture of church leadership today. For example, when there’s a change in pastoral leadership often people expect the new guy or gal to exterminate any proverbial ghosts in the church closet. The new pastor will swoop in, identify all the problems and miraculously make things better. “Who are you gonna call? –A new pastor!”

He or she will use the tools of their trade — their exceptional skill sets at conflict resolution, their managerial and organizational abilities around the council table, their charisma and eloquence in the pulpit, their compassion and listening skills by the hospital bed. When congregations — as they all do — bear the emotional weight of past failures, unrealized dreams or struggle with scars of past conflicts or fears about the future … “Who are you gonna call? — A new pastor!”

Here comes Pastor (fill in the blank) in his flowing robes and swagger! Glorious! “Who are you gonna call? — A new pastor!” Save us!

Well, I hate to break it to you… but I think you know: YOU, and anyone else in this room, are not gonna do it. Because alongside our unrealistic expectations and pressures we place on ourselves to be successful and perfect, is the Word of God which states in no uncertain terms that it is God who will bring to completion the good work begun in us (Philippians 1:6). Alongside our fervor and toil is the Sacrament of the Table whose host is Jesus, reminding us that this thing we do in church is not about us but about God, God’s mission and God’s work in us.

The job of pastor and people working in mutual ministry is to pay attention to what God is doing, and respond honestly and with love to God’s call. We are in this together. Who are we gonna call? Let’s call on God!

Cry baby? or Cry faithful!

To cry is to admit vulnerability. And somehow — unfortunately — has the act of weeping in our competitive, dog-eat-dog world become for many a sign of a weak, inadequate disposition to life and faith? Young boys, especially, have been taught, “Don’t cry!”, right?

In pastoral ministry, we need to be careful when people are grieving and crying for a loss not to rush to excuse their behavior — which really only betrays our discomfort. We need to be careful not to hurry the grieving to accept some ‘silver lining’ of any devastating situation. When resurrection is proclaimed prematurely, harm can be done.

Preaching on the Gospel texts during these first Sundays after Pentecost, I notice a common behavior on the part of those who receive the gifts of healing and forgiveness:

When her only son died the widow from Nain must have wept for Jesus to say, “Do not weep”; and the woman wept as she washed Jesus’ feet with her tears in the house of Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7). The ‘sinful’ woman here, you will notice, does not ask for forgiveness. But her confessing heart says it all. No words are necessary.

Not only in these texts but throughout the Scriptures the faithful people of God cry. Crying is the body’s way of confessing the truth about ourselves and our situation. The biblical form is called, the Lament. In our lament, we openly raise our cries to God when we are sad, angry, defeated, suffering, lost. A primary example of a lamenting context was the Babylonian Exile — when in the Hebrew Scriptures we read about the people of God being ousted from their land and their temple, and taken to work and live on the banks of the Euphrates far away from home.

Jesus himself wept over Jerusalem in the days leading to his arrest and crucifixion (Luke 19:41). Jesus wept over the death of his dear friend Lazarus, to the point forming one of the shortest verses in the Bible: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). Jesus cries. Would we dare rush to Jesus when he weeps and say, “Don’t cry. It’ll be alright.” It seems to me we need to let Jesus weep.

Early Christians called it the gift of tears. The wisdom of the ages points to the healing power of tears, a cleansing of the inner life. The desert monk, Abbot Pimen, said: “Weep, there is no other way to perfection” (p.59, Paul Harris, “Frequently Asked Questions about Meditation, the Path of Contemplative Prayer”).

Our faith and our traditions of prayer that validate the act of crying, weeping and lamenting offer us a path to healing, hope and wholeness. I pray for a vision of community where Christians are honest with themselves in their faith and in their pain, who seek authenticity in their relationship with God and others, who are not afraid to be themselves before God, even to be vulnerable to others in confession.

Covenant: a relationship of truthfulness and fidelity

In order to learn the faith, many Christians of the first centuries traveled into the desert of North Africa to the monasteries where the solitary monks lived and worked. There, a kind of contract was made between disciple and teacher.

On the disciple’s side, he or she promised to be completely open with the master — trusting to tell the truth about everything going on in her or his life. This wouldn’t always be easy — to make oneself vulnerable, to lay one’s emotional life down on the line, and to confess those secrets harbored deep in the recesses of the heart.

On the other side, the teacher promised to be faithful to the disciple and never abandon them in their journey of learning, discernment and maturity — through all the struggles that journey would bring. There was nothing the student could say about themselves or what they were thinking that would shaken or jeopardize the steadfast faithfulness of the teacher.

This contract between disciple and teacher was one of truthfulness and fidelity. From the early days of Christianity, learning the faith thus represented came to express the relationship Christians have with Jesus. Jesus is our Teacher, our Master, the Lord of all.

Discipleship means to follow Jesus. For us to follow in the Way of Jesus, are we not called upon to be completely truthful and honest to God about who we are? Personal, spiritual growth is enhanced when we are honest and vulnerable with each other and with Jesus in prayer.

Since the Scriptures were written down, the concept of Covenant has been used to describe the relationship between God and God’s people. This ancient, early Christian understanding from the Desert Fathers and Mothers can help us grasp how we relate to God.

A conviction of God’s everlasting, unwavering faithfulness to us opens the door of our hearts to be completely truthful about not only the good and righteous parts of our lives but especially the dark parts we normally wish to hide from others.

Thank you to Laurence Freeman for giving this example about the contract between disciple and teacher in his taped dialogue with the Dalai Lama in January 2013

Faith = Trust

Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t believe everything people say to you, especially if they are selling you something. Don’t trust politicians. If you want it done right, do it yourself ….

Reads like a charter for good living, eh?

Advice we give our children from a young age is meant to help us become street-wise, life-smart, common sense practicing members of society. We develop our sensibilities so that we can be safe and secure, survive and even flourish in a dog-eat-dog world of violence, competition, and rabid individualistic advancement and fortitude.

When I participated in the 5K event at Ottawa’s Race Weekend which attracted over 40,000 to the nation’s capital for Canada’s largest annual marathon event, thoughts of the Boston Marathon bombings a month ago came to mind. I couldn’t help but heed Federal Minister for Public Safety Vic Toews’ recent advice, for the public to remain ‘vigilant’ in a dangerous, scary world in which we live.

Remaining constantly vigilant sets the wise apart from the naive. And yet, I also can’t help but wonder about the damage we do to our lives of faith when we so readily consume the propaganda and messaging of the dominant culture of our day. I’m not saying that to be faithful is to be naive. But if we are a people of faith, then we need to re-discover a quality of faith suppressed by our culture.

Again, this time while teaching the Lutheran Course to a group of new members and other adults in our church community, I was asked: “Doesn’t faith mean ‘belief’?”

I wouldn’t doubt that belief is part of what it means to have faith — that is, to believe in a set of propositions about God: Jesus is the divine Son of God who came to save the world from the powers of the devil and sin, etc., etc.

But a quality of faith, picked up by Martin Luther and other teachers over the centuries, that is often overlooked is: trust. The expression of trust in our relationships — primarily, to trust God — demonstrates faith as much as, even more than, belief.

To trust another is a quality shown clearly by the God-fearing, Gentile centurion in the Gospel of Luke 7:1-10. It doesn’t right away jump out at me, after a first reading of this story about the healing of a slave. Underlying the interactions among the characters in this story, nevertheless, is the quality of faith. Jesus even concludes his dialogue by acclaiming the centurion’s faith (v.9).

A couple of plot points underscore the trust that is demonstrated in the story. First, never in Luke’s account does Jesus actually meet the centurion face-to-face. Moreover, never does Jesus actually touch the slave whom he heals. The principle characters in this story never meet!

Relationally, this is troubling, since I for one always value direct communication. I hesitate when ‘third parties’, middle management, or ‘a friend told me’ methods are used to get a message across. I ask myself: Why didn’t the centurion go directly to Jesus with his request? Let’s just say, I’m not very trusting of social triangles.

For starters, the centurion shows a pure, simple trust in others. He trusts the Jewish leaders to make a convincing argument to Jesus. He then trusts his good friends to advocate on his behalf. Trust imbues these relationships. The centurion’s faith is based precisely in trusting others, and not in depending solely on himself to ‘get the job done right’.

The centurion also, and significantly, trusts Jesus. But, more to the point, he trusts Jesus the person, not in any perceived magical abilities Jesus would have. In Jesus’ day, people believed direct contact with the person mediating the healing was necessary (see Luke 5:17, 6:19). There’s more here than someone seeking a magical, instantaneous snapping-of-fingers cure to a problem. This is not a mechanical spirituality being described.

What we witness is someone putting their trust in — literally — the word of Jesus. Jesus need only “speak the word” (v.7) from a distance. His power is beyond the limits of earthly perception. It is indeed super-natural, divine. The centurion trusts in what Jesus says.

This story reveals something two-handed. It’s a paradox. Very ‘Lutheran’, I might add! The centurion calls himself unworthy (v.6), even as he is hailed among the Jewish leaders as very much worthy to receive the help of Jesus (v.4). Which is it? Well, not either/or but both/and! Unworthy to earn favour with God by one’s own efforts to perfection. Unworthy to espouse individualistic self-righteousness as a deserving of God’s attention.

But very much worthy of God’s attention because another says so. Worthy because of who Jesus is. Worthy because Jesus makes it so, by God’s grace, mercy, and unconditional love.

So, in the end, Jesus trusts. Jesus trusts the Jewish leaders’ appeal. Jesus trusts the centurion’s friends’ advocacy. And, above all, Jesus trusts in the worthiness of the slave whom he hasn’t met during his visit to Capernaum by the Sea. Jesus heals someone ‘at a distance’, because the slave, too, is a beloved creation of God. Jesus has faith in the worthiness — the inherent value — of one who is, in the social structure of the day, not considered very worthy at all, someone at the lowest rung in society — a lowly slave.

The slave demonstrated faith. He or she did not recite a Creed nor prove their beliefs before getting healed. The slave was literally at the mercy of life and death. The slave, according to the New King James Version, was “ready to die” (v.2). The slave was ready to place their life in the hands of the Maker. The slave demonstrated a deep trust to let go and surrender, at the end. To the one who can let go into the arms of God who will never let us go, healing and wholeness comes.

God is faithful to us, even in death. God is faithful to us, even as we may not consider ourselves worthy of God’s love. Jesus healing power is available to us, even as we may feel distant from God. So, in bold faith, let us move forward and enter the door of God’s realm of mercy. For God is faithful.

Great is Thy faithfulness!

On the journey – Now

This final, inner circle is the purview of the Holy Spirit. Always centering us in the moment, the Holy Spirit brings us to the awareness that God is not just something of historical inquiry, and not just some program for success.

God in the Holy Spirit squares us with the reality of our lives that we face right now. In this very moment, the God we confess and the God we worship is doing something around you and in the world. And God is acting whether we’re tracking or not. The Holy Spirit blows despite us.

So, whether we’re naughty or nice, even in our imperfections and weaknesses — indeed through our limitations and brokenness (thank you Jesus!) the Holy Spirit blows, especially hard.

This is the function of God’s grace. To recognize God’s activity and presence right now in the mundane, ordinary and common aspects of our lives.

In this realization and awareness, then, the ‘now’ and the ‘wow’ are aligned properly. Because God is with us now in the Holy Spirit, it is God’s work that makes all good things happen — in Jesus we don’t have to make it happen. And because Jesus takes care of the ‘how’ we can truly celebrate and give thanks for the ‘wow’. Our worship, our dreams, our imagination, our joy — these are consequences not of our private, narcissistic projections. Our ‘wow’ and ‘how’ are expressions of an authentic appreciation of the creative act of God not only in our regular daily lives, but in the wider community.

Is the dream possible? Keep the ‘wow’, the ‘how’ and the ‘now’ properly aligned in God’s love, God’s work and God’s grace. And see the dream come true!

On the journey – How

This is the tricky one. Especially for us goal-oriented, success-hungry, ambitious types. For us who, almost compulsively, dive into our work. For those of us who first ask when a new idea is presented: “How will this work?”

And so we draw the second circle of our ‘trinity’ of circles. This one just on the inside of the larger ‘wow’. From the ‘wow’ we move to the ‘how’. The exuberance of youth must at some point translate into a work-able, do-able, achievable proposition. Somehow, the dream needs to have traction on the ground. We have to do something in order to make it happen. This, is the ‘how’ part of life.

But, as I said, this is the tricky stage. Because for so long we have convinced ourselves into believing that if anything good is to come in our lives, it’s because we’ve accomplished it or deserved it or earned it by our hard work.

To a degree, there is some truth here. We make decisions to the best of our judgment, hoping that we exercise discernment and wisdom. We work hard with good intentions. We are motivated to create a better society, and we act on it.

But more and more people are discovering that just because they work very hard at something, doesn’t necessarily mean they will succeed. More and more people are discovering this harsh reality on the journey of life and faith. Just because you sweat blood, sweat and tears in pursuing some ‘wow’ goal in life, doesn’t necessarily mean you will achieve it. What then?

Should we give up? Should we sit idly by and not do anything, resigned to fate? Like I said, this ‘how’ thing is tricky.

It’s also no surprise that this circle represents the second person of the Holy Trinity — Jesus. The first ‘wow’ circle was God the Father, the Creator, the beginning point. This second person of Jesus is the Saviour, the Redeemer. Jesus is the ‘how’ to journeying on the path of faith and life.

Up until this point, we may have thought that journeying in life through the ‘wows’, the ‘hows’ and the ‘nows’ was unidirectional — that it was all up to us to get it right. Jesus’ grace and presence in our lives suggests a two-way relationship. What we put into life is our approach to life and to God that says: “Thank you!” What we put into life are our efforts that don’t pretend nor presume our salvation and the salvation of the world depends on us.

Jesus won salvation for us already! He’s done the job. He’s figured out how to restore broken human relationships. Jesus offers us, and those we meet, forgiveness, grace, a new fresh start over in life — each day of our lives!

Jesus doesn’t love us because he has to; Jesus loves us because he wants to. “This frees us to simply receive that love, rather than feverishly try to make ourselves worthy of it” (p. 236, Richard Rohr, ‘On The Treshold of Transformation’).

Worth living for? Worth working for?

Together, now!

When we feel, however, that in our lives we are neither on a vacation nor able to fulfill our vocation, what then?

Perhaps we are at a loss for words. Perhaps we are so dis-spirited and dejected that we feel hopeless and without purpose and meaning. Perhaps our spirit can do nothing other than cry to God for help: ‘Abba! Father!’

Saint Paul had something to say about that: When we cry ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spiritbearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God … (Romans 8:16)

The very fact that we turn our selves to face God, the very fact that we think about God – good or bad thoughts! – the very fact that we lift our hearts to God even in pain and suffering, is God’s Spirit touching ours. We are indeed ‘children of God’ before we do anything remarkable, life-changing or effective. We are already given our inheritance before we can earn it or prove somehow we are worthy of it, before we are rid of all that ails us.

One salient fact in the Pentecost story from the Bible stands out – right at the beginning: When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place …(Acts 2:1)

Normally when we read or hear this text, we hurriedly breeze through this first verse to get to the sensational parts of the wind blowing through the place and the tongues of fire appearing on the disciples’ heads. We so readily go to what stimulates and excites us, don’t we?

Yet there is a gentle, subtle truth here, which also reveals the Holy Spirit’s action in our lives: We cannot do it alone.

Sometimes we seek renewal in nature, in solitude, by ourselves, secluded, isolated – in nature, on a vacation. And we feel God’s presence. We say, “the spirit of God is here.” Maybe so.

But Lutherans and Christians in general, I believe, would affirm that the Holy Spirit’s power is not primarily individualistic. The Holy Spirit, based on the biblical witness on the Day of Pentecost, comes to those gathered ‘together in one place.’

The only way we can truly and effectively live out our vocation, is to be with others, engage the world around us, and do it together.

Apart from the ever-expanding community of faith, the Christian Gospel cannot be effectively witnessed and proclaimed. Apart from the community of faith, you and I may do good works and be good citizens. Apart from the community of faith, we may find comfort and solace in distractions and the seductions of our materialistic culture.

But, if you want to see true, spiritual power and healing in your life and those around you – let’s do it together, and watch God’s Spirit change the world!

Even on a vacation, let’s live out our vocation – together!

To be Lutheran, to be ‘both-and’

What is our vocation? Professor Mary Jane Haemig at Luther Seminary in Minneapolis/St Paul describes it this way: Our vocation was born in us when we were created by God. When we were born, we received our vocation to care for others in creation, to serve a world in need.

Basically, our common vocation as human beings is mutual support and care, which reflects our interdependence with one another and the importance of all our relationships – with creation, with ourselves, with others, and with God.

Professor Haemig goes on to say that at our Baptism, God forgives us our sins of failing to live out our vocation. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, we are forgiven and set free to live for the sake of others. The cross of Christ not only saves us from our sins, it saves us for serving the needs of others.

Reflected here is something that characterizes the Lutheran brand of Christianity. Those of us who undertook the “Lutheran Course Two” this past month – including our new members whom we receive formally this day – discovered this “two-handed” style of thinking that is prevalent not only in Lutheran theology but in our practice of faith. For example, one of Martin Luther’s famous sayings was that we are simultaneously saints and sinners.

Not either/or, this or that, black or white. But both/and.

Rather than pit a vacation apart from vocation, then, we would affirm that vocations can still be lived out during a vacation. Martin Luther was very clear to state that all people in society were members of the ‘spiritual’ class – not only bishops, pastors, and religious people. Even the most mundane of jobs can be living out our God-given vocation. It’s not so much what we do, but how we do it.

With what attitude and attention to others around us do we approach and do our jobs? Can we be on vacation and still exercise our vocation – when we spend time with our family and nurture our friendships and build healthy relationships reflecting the love and truth of God? On the other hand, can our vocations be fun, at times – as are vacations?

Yes, and Yes!

Am I on vacation or living my vocation?

It’s a church joke that during a religious service whenever something happens that is somewhat serendipitous or unexpected it must be the Holy Spirit!

In my former parish where the church gathered in a hundred year-old building, bats were a problem; I can now laugh at memories of the most poignant moments of funerals, weddings and sermons where a bat would swoop down from the heavens …. The Holy Spirit!

Or, at an emotional high of a sermon, or during the Holy Communion, or at the dramatic climax of a bible reading – the power would go out, a lightning would flash and the clap of thunder would boom, or a gust of wind would rattle the windows and whistle through the eaves ….. The Holy Spirit!

The joke always reveals a slice of truth. When the Holy Spirit comes, we are indeed surprised, rendered speechless and startled, even. We laugh, maybe because the timing couldn’t be better.

But, on Friday when the magnitude 5.1 earthquake struck just kilometers from my home, I wasn’t laughing and I didn’t think the timing was the great.

Because it was my day-off, and I was trying to relax and enjoy a stress-free ‘vacation’, so to speak. When dishware and glasses startled rattling and the floors started heaving, I was pulled out of my dream-like state and escapist reverie into a moment of stark reality.

I was forced to face the reality of life and death. In a split second, I wondered if I should vacate the house and save my skin. And in that second I wondered if our two-story duplex would collapse over me.

When the shaking subsided, I couldn’t help but be brought out of my ‘vacation’ and into an appreciation of my ‘vocation’. I had to be grounded – excuse the pun – and re-orient myself in who I am and my purpose in life. So, I looked outside my window to see if there was any damage on our street and/or distressed neighbors in need. I remembered that, deep down, my calling in life draws me to others and serving their needs.

At this time of year, indeed, being the first long weekend of the unofficial summer season, I’m dreaming of vacations. Maybe you are, too. I look forward to a time to rest, restore, get away from it all and enjoy God’s beautiful creation.

At the same time, I realize yet again that just because we may be on a vacation, we are still living out our vocation. The word, ‘vocation’, comes from the Latin word which means “to call”. Our vocation is what God calls us to be and do. And, we cannot escape that vocation – even though we may try.