It’s our congregation’s birthday today! Holy Trinity Sunday is the anniversary of Faith Lutheran Church’s official organization in 1961 when we were still meeting at Fisher Heights Public School. Happy birthday, Faith!

Birthdays are about gifts. On our birthday we receive gifts. So, what gifts do we receive today? And what gifts do we already have? And what are they for?

At this time of year, many are planting seeds, flowers, crops. The gardens and flowerbeds are being cleaned up and prepared for new growth. We have lots to learn from farmers, people who work the land, who are busy at this time of year because of their unique connection to the earth. And we have lots to learn from different ways of farming, because each offers insight and reflects wisdom about gifts.

Nicodemus is a teacher of the law and a respected leader of the faith. Jesus challenges him, however (John 3:9-10). Using a rhetorical question (“Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?”), Jesus basically suggests Nicodemus appreciate another way of knowing. Jesus is not condemning Nicodemus’ way of knowing; it’s not bad. But, from Nicodemus’ perspective, he would do well to learn another way and seek its wisdom; that is, the way of the Lord.

By way of analogy, we can do the same and practice thinking outside the proverbial box. Let’s explore Indigenous wisdom when it comes to their relationship with the earth. For example, when colonists settled in the northeast centuries ago and saw First Nations gardens, they were surprised. To the settler mind, a garden meant straight rows of a single species. But that’s not how, for millennia prior to the white man’s arrival, people farmed here.

Robin Wall Kimmerer (2015, pp. 128-140) describes this gardening style as “The Three Sisters”, where three different seeds were laid in the ground, all in the same square foot of soil (I adapt her words here):

“Once planted in the May-moist earth, the corn seed takes on water quickly. It is the first to emerge from the ground, a slender white spike that greens within hours of finding the light. Corn is the first sister. It is all alone at first, while the others are getting ready … Making a strong stem is its highest priority at first. It needs to be there for its younger sister, the bean.

“The bean seed is the second sister. Only after the root is secure does the stem bend to the shape of a hook and elbow its way above ground. Beans take their time unfurling their leaves out of the two halves of its seed. The leaves then break the soil surface to join the corn which is already six inches tall … The bean focuses on leaf growth, all low to the ground, until the corn stalk is knee high. Then, the bean shoot changes its mind.

“Instead of making leaves, now the bean plant extends itself into a long vine, a slender green string with a mission. The tip can travel a meter in a day until it finds what it’s looking for – a corn stem or some other vertical support, to wrap itself around in a graceful, upward spiral. Had the corn not started early, the bean vine would strangle it. But if the timing is right, the corn can easily carry the bean.

“The squash or pumpkin seed is the third sister which takes its time. They are the slow sister. It may be weeks before the first stems poke out of the ground. It steadily extends herself over the ground, moving away from the corn and beans. Its leaves and vines are distinctly bristly, giving second thoughts to nibbling caterpillars. As its leaves grow wider, they shelter the soil at the base of the corn and beans, keeping moisture in, and other plants out.

“The lessons of reciprocity are written clearly in a Three Sisters garden. No leaf sits directly over the next, so that each can gather light without shading the others … Each plant has its own pace and the sequence of their germination is important to their relationship and to the success of the crop.”

So, what gifts does each offer?

“The corn takes care of making light available. The squash reduces weeds. But what is the gift beans offer? To see her gift you have to look underground … Beans are members of the legume family, which has the remarkable ability to take nitrogen from the atmosphere and turn it into usable nutrients for all the plants. This process occurs on the beans’ roots.

“The Three sisters teach us the important lesson of knowing our unique gift and how to use it in the world. Individuality is cherished and nurtured, because, in order for the whole to flourish, each of us has to be strong in who we are and carry our gifts with conviction, so they can be shared with others. Being among the three sisters provides a visible picture of what a community can become when its members understand and share their gifts …

“The message of this garden is: respect one another, support one another, bring your gift to the world and receive the gifts of others. And there will be enough for all.

“The Three Sisters embody, in leaf and vine, the knowledge of relationship. Alone, bean is just a vine, squash an oversize leaf. Only when standing together with corn does a whole emerge which transcends the individual. The gifts of each are more fully expressed when they are nurtured together, rather than alone. In ripe ears and swelling fruit, they counsel us that all gifts are multiplied in relationship.”

Listen to Saint Paul’s words:

To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses. (Saint Paul, 1 Corinthians 12:7-11)

And, may we be like Isaiah who responds to the Spirit’s nudging, saying, “Yes, Here I am. Send me!” (Isaiah 6:8). May our prayer rise: Bless the gift you have given to me, to share with the Body of Christ and the world. Empower me, and everyone else in their gifting, to let your gift flourish in and through me, for the sake of the common good. Let this be our Pentecost season prayer.

May the words of Jesus resonate in our hearts this day as the greatest gift we receive, the message that it is God’s love and grace that holds all relationships together. For God so loved the world, that in Christ and in the dance of the Holy Trinity, like the Three Sisters, all will be saved (John 3:16-17). All will have enough. All will share with each other their gift, in Christ, forever.

What is the gift you have received? And what will you do? How will you share it for the common good?

Reference:

W. Kimmerer. (2020). Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge and the teachings of plants. Penguin.

What does being faithful, being spiritual, mean in the face of unhappy, difficult, circumstances in life?

I must admit that for me during the past Easter season sometimes the messages and metaphors of pure light and new life clashed with the losses, disappointments and bad news that came up during the Easter season. It seemed the joy of resurrection felt incompatible with what is happening in the world today and in our lives personally. There was this disconnect, and it didn’t always feel right to shout out at the beginning of every Easter service: “Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!”

Maybe, then, this Pentecost season is a gift to us, and a help, as it shifts our attention away from the images of new life and pure light – God knows we have lots of daylight these days! We’re ready for another image to guide our imagination and encourage our spirit and faith.

What about, wind? Wind is central to the Pentecost and Creation stories from the bible.

A northeast wind, quite blustery in the last couple of days, brought wild-fire smoke into the Ottawa area. The wild-fire smoke created poor air quality. I had many-a sneezing fits when I went outside yesterday.

In the scriptures, we find that the Spirit of God can blow through in ways we may not always expect, nor even prefer. What does the wind do to us? First, the wind jars us out of our comfort zones. It makes us uncomfortable. It causes a reaction in us.

First, the Spirit of God must “bear witness” with our own spirit, as Saint Paul puts it^[1]. Our own lives are exposed, in all truth. Some call the Spirit of God the “objective inner witness”^[2] that looks back at us with utter honesty. We might call it, simply, a wake-up call. And that is why we begin the liturgy using ancient words of confession: Lord, have mercy.

It wasn’t an easy beginning for the first disciples of Jesus:

“When the day of Pentecost had come, [the apostles] were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house…”^[3]

You can’t get away from the unsettling, inertia-disrupting character of God’s creative Spirit. In Genesis, when God created the world, when the earth was “a formless void, and darkness covered the face of the deep,” God’s Spirit, “a mighty wind from God” swept over the face of the waters.^[4] Notice the descriptive words: mighty, sweeping …

Then in the book of Exodus when the Hebrews escaped slavery in Egypt, they were going East towards the Promised Land when they came up against the Red Sea in front of them.

And “The Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night … and the waters were divided.” ^[5]

In order to walk that path on dry ground toward the other side, toward freedom, the Hebrews needed to push into that headwind blowing into them at full throttle. They needed to lean into the counterforce of that harsh, persistent headwind blowing against them, likely slowing them down and making their passage more frustrating and uncomfortable, for sure.

But that unfavourable, uncomfortable wind, was at the same time the way towards their freedom and deliverance, a saving gift all along.

These scriptures remind us that God’s Spirit may not always arrive as a pleasing, warm summer night breeze or a still, small voice, a faint stirring of the heart, or a subtle and polite whisper.

Divine Spirit can also arrive with difficult, unsettling effects.

My mother tells me of a time when she was a young girl growing up in southern Poland towards the end of the Second World War, in a town not far from Auschwitz, the notorious Nazi death camp.

As a six-year-old, my mom one afternoon was playing in her backyard, and a gentle east wind was blowing in from the direction of Auschwitz. And she recalls a strange, acrid odour wafting in with that wind, coupled with what she thought were ashes floating around everywhere.

It was only much later as an adult, my mom recalled this disturbing childhood memory, with the foul smell and ashes floating in with the wind. And she realized the horrible truth of what that wind revealed that day.

How over a million Jews at Auschwitz were gassed to death in specially-built chambers, and then their bodies burned in crematoriums with smokestacks pointing to the sky, the wind carrying and revealing the gruesome truths of this systematic, mass-murderous activity of the Nazi regime.

What did the wind blow-in on that day?

The Spirit of God—of truth however hard it might be—may not always be easy to take. The Spirit of God opens to us the difficult and challenging realities before us. The Spirit of God does not allow us to avoid nor deny the truth any longer.

So how do we align ourselves with the Divine Spirit, so that we might be witnesses to, messengers of, mouthpieces for that Spirit? Going where the Spirit sends us? Catching the wind and sailing along with that mighty wind of Divine Spirit? And in so doing, spreading more truth, justice and love in a world that so needs it?

God’s Spirit bearing witness to ours shows us whom we need to love. A sign in a church classroom read: “You cannot treat people like garbage and worship God at the same time.”

And so, we must unveil the hard truths of past and present suffering of others at the hands of the church: Jews, blacks, indigenous, our 2SLGBTQIA+ siblings, and people of colour. We must confess and dispel the implicit racism that creeps constantly into our daily discourse, a racism that swims almost unconsciously in our institutions, organizations and in our own hearts.

Holy Trinity Sunday is about celebrating a relational God. However we define trinity or seek to intellectualize about it, the bottom line is God’s identity is wrapped up in the relationship between God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The story of Pentecost and the early growth of the church was about building relationships based on the values of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

The season after Pentecost calls the church to build and rebuild relationships of faith. That is our mission to the ends of the earth and to all nations. And doing so, we are called to pay attention to the values which determine the words we say and our behaviour with others.

At a time when the church faces critical decisions it’s important to affirm this fundamental characteristic of the church since the beginning; indeed, the beginning of time: Relationships characterized by love.

Some of you know I like to write and aspire to finish some novels that are in my head waiting to be written down. I was looking recently at the website of the Ottawa Writers’ Circle where they identify not merely a code of conduct but a code of values.

The rationale they provide for doing so is that “… it’s important that we all understand what is expected of members at events, offline and online.… A Code of Values outlines what [we] stand for and what we expect our members to believe in …”^[6]

Even though this particular group is primarily about writing, they are clear and upfront about how and why they treat each other the way they do. They are expressly an open, safe, and welcoming community, who prioritizes respect and diversity. This means, and they publicize this:

Treating people like we would like to be treated; Never saying anything about anyone you wouldn’t say to them directly; Listening with the intent to understand, and acknowledging it is important to the speaker; Learning when a behaviour is welcome and unwelcome; Not using poor social grace as an excuse to consistently make people uncomfortable; Being understanding when someone is new or shy without being forceful.

To become aware of the pitfalls is part of the learning to be in community, and to be in healthy relationship.

But the learning and the journey ultimately brings us to compassion, even with ourselves. Because the Divine Spirit is a life-giving Spirit, bringing much needed oxygen to efforts which stir up joy and love, affirmation and encouragement in any and all places and people.

Just as that mighty Wind of Pentecost filled the entire house and the apostles’ hearts, carrying and scattering them to the ends of the earth in the name of Jesus, may that same Spirit fill, carry and send us out, to breathe new life, grace and love where we can.

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[1] Romans 8:16

[2] Richard Rohr, Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality (Cincinnati Ohio: St. Anthony Messenger Press, 2008), p.74.

[3] Acts 2:1-2

[4] Genesis 1:2

[5] Exodus 14:21

[6] Ottawa Writers Circle Code of Values

Read John 3:1-17

The way Nicodemus approaches Jesus—his words and actions—reveals Nicodemus’ frame of mind. First, he asks rhetorical questions. What are rhetorical questions? They are questions with an obvious answer. “How can someone be born again?” Nicodemus asks Jesus. Here is a question that has an obvious answer in its literal meaning: No, one cannot enter a second time into the mother’s womb.^[1]

He’s not finished. When Jesus tells Nicodemus that the Spirit is like the wind that blows where it chooses and “you do not know where it comes from or where it goes,” Nicodemus asks another rhetorical question: “How can these things be?”

Rhetorical questions reveal more about the one asking the question. When we ask rhetorical questions we are not so much expecting a direct answer. We are not curious and seeking understanding with an open mind as much as we are offering our question for effect. With these kinds of questions we are normally getting ready to have a debate, to have a fight. A member of the ruling council, Nicodemus the Pharisee may very well have been used to using this style of combative discourse. 

Then, there is his behaviour. Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night. Maybe he is trying to hide from being spotted with the agitater, Jesus of Nazareth. As I mentioned, Nicodemus was a religious leader. As such, he belonged to the privileged establishment in Jerusalem. Was he worried about his reputation, being accused of cohorting with society’s riff-raff? 

Or maybe, being someone who achieved material successes in life, he reacts against the notion of not being in control of his destiny. Jesus says, after all, that God’s Spirit is beyond our capacity to direct and control.

Whatever the case may be, Nicodemus’ words and actions reflect his fear. He has a lot to lose in his encounter with Jesus. He resists. He defends. And he pretends that he is right and that everything is alright, living life out of fear.

The words of Saint Paul in his letter to the Romans paint another picture. “We are led by the Spirit of God and [therefore] are children of God,” Paul writes. “For we did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear …”^[2]

Ever chase seagulls on the beach? Or run after sandpipers across grassy dunes and windswept plains? We perceive birds to react in this skittish, fearful way. Normally, they bolt as soon as we make a noise or come too close. Their behaviour is fearful and filled with foreboding and anxiety. These are primal instincts to which they are slaves. 

In the Zoom service last week, Beth shared a remarkable moment of grace she experienced while watering her flower garden recently planted. Something was blocking the end of the garden hose, so the stream came out a slow, gentle arc splashing into the ground a few feet in front of her.

All of a sudden she noticed a hummingbird approach the fountain of water at its crest. And then the bird started drinking from the stream of water coming out of the hose. The hummingbird didn’t just take a nip and skitter away. It stayed there for several incredible moments, satiating itself and filling its tiny body. 

What is more, next time Beth looked, it had sat itself down on the low retaining wall bordering the garden in front of her, bathing in the water dribbling from the hose. It dipped its little head and lifted its tiny wings to wash underneath and then shook the droplets of water off.

Beth marvelled with wonder. And she confessed that in that simple moment doing simple things she had but one purpose: In the moment of the bird’s greatest vulnerability, to offer a safe space for this bird, normally skittish and reacting to fear. Here, in that holy moment and in that space, human and bird were nourished and restored. 

In my life God creates this safe, trusting space where I can be nourished and where I can be restored, renewed, and given confidence to grow and engage the world, anew. Fear can ultimately serve a higher purpose of pushing me to try new things, things I need to do.

In God’s presence, however, I no longer need to speak and act out of fear and judgement. In God’s presence, I need no longer defend myself against another with self-righteous, rhetorical questions. 

In the presence of God I need only trust. In trust, I am honest and vulnerable with whom I am. And I know that in God’s presence, in all areas of my life and in every decision I make, I am offered countless moments filled with grace.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

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Thank you, Beth MacGillivray, for the hummingbird photos at your feeder.

^[1] John 3:1-17, the Gospel for Holy Trinity Sunday, Year B, Revised Common Lectionary, May 30, 2021

^[2] Romans 8:14-15

My neighbor sat glumly on his front porch looking out over the grass in his front yard, and the patch of municipal green area across the street from our homes.

He loves to play golf. In the nearly twenty years of his retirement he has made golf his passion.  A couple days before the government lifted restrictions on golf courses he called out to me from his melancholic perch on his front porch, “Hey, you can work a little harder, eh?” He flicked his eyes to the sky. “Sure would be nice to get out on the greens when the weather is like this.”

Presuming my neighbor meant “God” when he looked up, and presuming he believed my prayers had extra pull with God when it came to affecting government decisions, I just smiled. “I’ll get on that right away.” I paused, then added. “But let me know how you make out getting ready for that day when it comes, ok?” He winked, and smiled back giving me the thumbs up.

He obviously responded to my encouragement to get ready. The next day, he trimmed a spot in the grass across the street. Throughout the whole morning – he is an early riser—my neighbor was across the street chipping golf balls with a pitching wedge over the street and onto the front yard of his house.

In the scripture today,^[1]Jesus empowers his disciples to “teach” to the “nations” everything he had taught them. This Great Commission, as we have come to know this text from Matthew’s Gospel, is meant for all Jesus’ disciples including all who follow Jesus today. 

“Teach the nations.”

The only distinguishing mark of Jesus’ ministry on earth was teaching. Only Jesus taught and his disciples did not. Long before this scene on the mountainside of Jesus’ final words to his disciples, and even long before the events surrounding Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension, Jesus had already given his disciples the power to cast out demons, heal the sick and proclaim the kingdom of God has come near.^[2]

For the longest time while Jesus was with his disciples, he had been doing the same kinds of things alongside them. Except teach. Now, as Jesus commissions the disciples at the end, he adds teaching to their mission.^[3]

Today we know that people are different in how they learn something. Some learn best by doing it and being active about it. Some learn best first by reading about it in a book or on screen by themselves. Others learn best in a group or with others to help motivate them, like in a classroom. Others learn best by observing and watching others doing it. Others will learn best by associating certain smells and sounds to activate and reinforce the memory. Still others learn best visually using images and pictures. Etc. etc.

Beware of presuming one way or style of teaching will accommodate each and every human being. To say the least, teaching and learning is complex. One size does not fit all. Maybe that’s why Jesus left this specific commission to the end.

As if this was not hard enough to grasp, Jesus ups the ante by instructing his disciples to go to the “nations”. Nations here is not our modern understanding of nation-states. But rather, more like ‘foreigners’ and people who are not like us.^[4]

Matthew was writing primarily to a first-century Jewish community. And he was echoing the Gospel message of extending the mission of God to the Gentiles. The nations, for us, represents anyone who is different from us, who doesn’t share our lifestyle choices, ethnic background, traditions, and race.

The Holy Spirit is blowing to and among all people.

At this time in history, especially, we are called to let others breathe. And, especially, others not like us. When George Floyd lost his life in Minnesota a couple of weeks ago, it was at the hands of someone who violently took away his ability, his freedom, to breathe. All because the colour of Floyd’s skin was not the same as the police officer’s.

When we build relationships with those who are different from us – because that is the call of Jesus – we can ‘teach the nations’ starting in our backyards, in our neighbourhoods and around our homes by simply letting those with whom we differ in some way breathe. Let them be who they are. Let them express what is important to them. Let them claim the space around them. Let them feel validated by your presence. Let them breathe.

I am not a golfer. Even though I tried on a few occasions, I never took to it for various reasons. Nevertheless I appreciated that even though my neighbor knows that golf is not important to me, he still reached out about his yearning to play golf after a long winter. He was still willing to be vulnerable with me.

A few days following our brief exchange about prayer and God and golf, the government announced that golf courses were to open the second last weekend of May. I have hardly seen him around the neighborhood since. I suppose he has been spending a lot of time at the local golf course several kilometres away.

But a couple of days ago I bumped into him in front of our houses. “How’s the golf going?” I asked. He wanted to let me know that golf was a game that you never perfected, that you always have to work at, that no matter how many years you’ve played it, it’s a process that never ends. 

“Some days you score a 76 when you could have scored a 68,” he said. “Other days you surprise yourself by doing better than you should have. There are so many factors and variables that go into each and every shot.” And the journey continues for him.

I think my neighbor taught me a thing or two about prayer, God and … well, golf. Jesus gives us a challenge. Being a disciple of Jesus feels overwhelming. We may resist its conferring upon us, as a result. The mission will disturb and take us out of our comfort zones. Life in Christ will continue to challenge us. And yes, we will at times doubt – as the disciples did even with Jesus standing right in front of them.^[5]

Along the journey, however, let’s not succumb to the despair of assuming that being a faithful Christian, and teaching others about God, is a one-off, run-and-done deal. It’s not something we check-off a list. And let’s not assume it is our power that achieves God’s work. That strategy is sure to fail. 

I was going to tell my neighbor, even in a joking manner, that it was my hard work at praying for the golf courses to open early that made it so. But I didn’t. Because our life does not rest in our power and strength to preserve it, protect it, control the outcomes, or to make something happen. 

Being disciples is about relationship, the quality of each, unique relationship. Being disciples is a life-long journey of building relationships, of listening and watching, of risking and doing – a learning and a practice of letting others breathe and grow that never ends.

I didn’t do anything about my neighbour’s golf game except be present with him, to listen and affirm. Maybe our loving presence with another who is different from us can be an opening for the Spirit of God to enter and breathe into our relationships.

Because our life rests in God’s willingness and God’s power to be present with us, to sustain our lives and grow them with others who are different from us yet breathing alongside us. This, we can trust. Even to the end of this age.

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^[1]Matthew 28:16-20

^[2]Matthew 10:7

^[3]Stephen B. Boyd, “Matthew 28:16-20” in David L. Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor, eds., Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary Year A Volume 3(Kentucky: WJK Press, 2011), p.44

^[4]Thomas G. Long, ibid., p.47

^[5]Matthew 28:17