Tag Archives: Jesus Christ

Transforming vision

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One of the most impressive cinematic visual effects in recent years comes from the “Transformers” film, when for the first time we see how a yellow Camaro is transformed before our very eyes into the character, Bumblebee – the mechanical, robot-like giant. Every part of the sports car shifts, rotates, elevates, turns and clicks into a new position in matter of seconds, revealing a completely different being – from car to robot.

But that’s just it: Every part of the car is necessary in the transformation. In other words, each piece of the car finds a place in the robot: the fender becomes the forehead; the headlights become the eyes; the tires become part of the joints in elbows and knees, etc. Nothing is discarded. The automobile – literally – is just changed, seen in a new light.

I suspect sometimes we resist the notion of our transformation because we anticipate or feel un-genuinely forced into becoming someone we are not. Especially in the church. On the other hand, we may resist the notion of our transformation because we are so convinced that there’s nothing good in our lives to begin with. So, what’s the point?

Because of these hang ups, we may give up. And we discard altogether the notion of ‘change’, defending the status quo of our lives even when we are not happy with the way things are. We justify philosophies that insist that human nature never changes; people will always be the same. And what is more, our nature is evil and beset forevermore with sin. If there is any good within us, it doesn’t last long and we cycle back into sinful patterns. Cynicism reigns supreme.

We can’t, however, ignore the witness of the Holy Scriptures. I don’t have to give you a complete catalogue of examples from the Gospels that shows how people around Jesus change. Whether directly the recipients of Jesus’ healing touch, which is obvious; or, the way the disciples – by the end of the journey with Jesus do exhibit moments of ‘aha’! Just read again the Easter stories such as the Emmaus walk (Luke 24:13ff), and the confident confessions of faith from the disciples – the likes of Nathanael, Peter, and Martha (Matthew 14:33;16:16; John 1:49;11:27).

It is evident from the witness of Scripture that if the disciples are not completely changed by the end of the story, they are certainly a journey that is changing their lives, forever (i.e. transformation).

But it takes time. It is a journey, after all. If the disciples are like the yellow Camaro in the film, “Transformers”, changing into Bumblebee, their transformation is more like what happens when you hit the slow motion button at that moment in the movie!

But what really changes? Are they still not the same person? After Jesus raised from the dead, the disciples went back to their day jobs – fishing by the Sea of Galilee; though they have seen and touched the risen Lord, were they not still the same people? When Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments, his facing shining after being in the presence of God – he was transformed, to be sure (Exodus 24:16-17;34:29); And yet he was still Moses – every part of him! When Jesus was transformed into a shining, glowing being on the Mount of Transfiguration, was he still not Jesus – every part of him (Matthew 17:1-9)?

An ex-soldier reflected with a concerned friend how war affects people in different ways: “Most soldiers get sick on the spot after killing someone for the first time; for others, it just whets their appetite for more.”

“Combat changes people,” the friend said trying to explain the traumatic effects of the battlefield on the human psyche.

“No,” the veteran replied. “Combat reveals who they truly are.”

Perhaps we have misunderstood this notion of ‘change’. In our linear, logical ways of thinking, we have perhaps overlooked a deeper dimension of our lives. Jesus changed, yes, on the mountain. But he didn’t really change. He was revealed, if but for a moment, as he truly is. Admittedly, as a mystery to us. And yet, we, with the disciples, get a glimpse of his divine nature, in this story. We don’t see a different Jesus. We just see a little more of who he really is: Someone beyond all human understanding, at very least.

This may not appear a satisfying answer for inquiring minds. Neither was it for Peter, James and John. At first, Peter belts out in pious bravado: “It is good Lord, that we are here!” (Matthew 17:4) It doesn’t take too long for Peter and his cohorts to fall trembling, flat on the ground, terrified of what they are seeing (Matthew 17:6).

How do we make sense of this incomprehensible God? What do we do when all our assumptions are shaken at their core? Who is God? Who is Jesus? What is happening, here, in my life?

I consider this story of the Transfiguration of the Lord a template, an allegory, for most experiences of our lives that we would view as ‘life-changing’ – good and bad experiences. Any event of our lives that brings us to our knees in fear and uncertainty: whenever we find ourselves wondering, “Why, Lord?” Or, on the other hand, whenever we are able to raise our hands in praise of God’s goodness, standing before a wondrous act of God.

In either case, the end of the story is more about God the Creator and Jesus, God’s Son. When the disciples are slain in fear on the ground after witnessing a most spectacular special-effect display of divine mystery and wonder, when Jesus notices the trauma of his friends ….

It’s as if, suddenly, all is quiet and all the ‘special effects’ of the Transfiguration melt into the background. Two things come into focus at the end to help the disciples gain their feet again: Jesus’ gentle words: “Do not be afraid”. And, his loving touch.

The disciples, who have just witnessed Jesus, as he truly is, are on the path of discovering who they, truly are in God’s eyes: Loved and touched by the hands of the Creator, soon to be crucified – a touch to ensure them that no matter what – even through death – they will never be alone. God is with them, “Emanuel” (Matthew 1:23), God with us.

We come into our true selves because of who Jesus is, as a reflection of the mystery of the divine. Like a tiny acorn holds the full capacity of being a giant tree, we hold the capacity of everything we yearn to become – because of Jesus. His light shines on us, warms our hearts, and causes our emergence.

It’s our relationship to Jesus, then, that defines our transformation. Listen to the words of Maryetta Anschutz who describes an artist’s creation: “An artist knows that everything he or she creates depends less on the subject matter and far more on the subject’s relationship to the light. In sculpture, photography, painting, or drawing, the artist simply depicts the reflection of light off an object or an idea.

“The still life of an apple can be flat, dull, and uninspiring, or it can evoke emotion, reaction, and transcendence. What evokes the response [the change] is not the object; it is how the artist presents it in the light …” (p.456, “Feasting on the Word” Year A Volume 1, eds. David Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor, JKP Kentucky, 2010). We are transformed, each and every ordinary one of us, into the beauty that Christ sees in us, and that we are.

Perhaps the challenge and call upon our lives from this holy story, is first and foremost a call to exercise the vision of God. That is, we are challenged to see anew all that is – the ordinary, the common place, the routine, the unspectacular, the every day. We are called to look upon one another, one self, each other, the people on the street upon the highways and byways of our regular lives – in the light and perspective of God. Not to deny the blemishes that are ever present – the cracks, the brokenness, the sin. But to appreciate the beauty of the way things already are, in the sight and vision of God the Creator, the master Artist.

In this way, then, transformation is neither a threat nor a fright. It is permission to become, and let emerge, what is already there. Hold what is there to the light of Christ, who stands always beside us, beckoning with his loving touch and assuring us, “I am with you always, even unto the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).

Thanks be to God.

Bane and Blessing

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In the popular Brothers Grimm fairy tale, “Rapunzel”, that was in recent years adapted for the big screen in the movie “Tangled”, the main character, Rapunzel, has extremely long hair. This is her gift, it would appear.

But the evil witch has locked her in a room at the top of a tall tower without any entrance or exit except a window near the top. The witch and the prince climb up to the room where Rapunzel lives, by calling for Rapunzel to let down her long hair; they use her hair like a rope ladder.

But Rapunzel never uses her gift of long hair to free herself from her entrapment. While others recognized the gift she had, for better or for worse, why couldn’t she just cut off her own hair? Why could Rapunzel not use her gift, especially if it meant freedom? She had what she needed to be free!

Was it her strong emotional attachment to her hair that prevented her from living life truly, freely? If only she could let go and surrender that which was most precious to her….

In the famous Beatitudes, Jesus described the ‘blessedness’ of those in the kingdom of God. How can we understand this ‘blessing’? This Sermon on the Mount does not read like a self-help manual for the successful, in the twenty-first century. There is something counter-cultural going on here; something paradoxical, even radical.

It seems to suggest to me that to be followers of Christ we must also be able to see in ourselves what we see in others: the bane and the blessing, the good and bad, both/and. It is, on the one hand, to recognize the sinner in ourselves, and to forgive – let go, surrender – ourselves of that sin. And not let it rule us.

To recognize, embrace and confess the poverty of spirit within us.

To explore and acknowledge places of grief and loss in our own lives.

To practice humility with others, a stance that recognizes God as the “source of our life” (1 Cor 1:30).

To identify and name our own hungers, longings and thirst for righteousness.

To be merciful unto ourselves, to begin with.

To search after the purity of our own heart.

To share the gift of peace that is within us.

And to endure the persecution and suffering we all encounter in whatever form, for Christ’s sake.

It’s easy to point the finger, and see it in others, and preserve our own sense of self. It’s easy to do nothing and ‘wait’ for someone to come and save you from your problems (like Rapunzel), without noticing the resources you have yourself to do the right thing, even it means starting by confessing your own sin.

The Gospel of Jesus, while being simple is not easy. Therefore, we need not shy away from seeking after the ‘blessing’ of God upon our lives in our honest, simple, vulnerable selves. We need not hold back from coming to God in all our sinfulness, because God won’t hold back his love to us.

“Consider your own call …: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong. God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not…” Paul writes (1 Cor 1:26-28).

Spiritual greats over the centuries have recognized this truth of God. St Augustine says, “In my deepest wound I see your glory and it dazzles me.” Julian of Norwich put it, “God sees the wounds, and sees them not as scars but as honors … God does not blame us for them.” Paul wrote elsewhere, defining God as one “who creates life out of death and calls into being what does not exist” (Romans 4:17).

On the cross, Jesus reconciled all these divisions in himself (Ephesians 2:10). It was, and is, the pattern of his life with us, as the Scriptures testify: Jesus himself was crucified between a good thief and a bad thief, hanging between heaven and earth, holding on to both his divinity and humanity, expelled as a problem for both religion and state.

His dying – his absolute letting go – upended any religious program that said, ‘You need to earn your worth and favour with God.’ Letting go is the nature of all true spirituality. Letting go is the nature of any genuine reconciliation. Letting go is the engine of meaningful and lasting transformation. And these are all, admittedly, a mystery – a paradox.

For Rapunzel, we cannot blame her for being attached to her hair; after all, it was a gift. Why would she want to cut it off – for any reason? Why would she want to give that up? It was such a deep part of her identity.

When we see Jesus on the cross, we see that our faith is about being ‘attached’ in love. Jesus instructs his followers in the Golden Rule to “love your neighbour as yourself” (Matthew 22:39, Mark 12:31, Luke 10:27).

But there’s a price, a cost, to pay for it. When you love someone, and act out of love for them, there is always the risk of pain and we will suffer for it. If we love, we give ourselves to feel the pain of the world. Love will simply lead us to the cross.

Sometimes the worst possible circumstances in our lives turn out to be the greatest gift – and vice versa. Because our greatest gift can be the source of our downfall; or, at very least, keep us from become the people God called us to be. Yet, it is in the collision and letting go of these opposites, where the blessing is realized.

Listen to the witness of a Catholic priest who visited the Philippines:

“I saw so many shining eyes in the Philippines, yet these are souls who have been eaten up and spit out by life. The Filipinos are a people with so little. I celebrated a Sunday Mass in a squatter’s camp. Shacks all around. Yet they were so excited that ‘Fodder’ was coming. The kids met me to lead me into the barrio. Out of these shacks came kids in perfectly clean clothes. I don’t know how the mothers kept them so clean. They were all dressed up for Sunday Mass. The boys all got their guitars, and it was the big event of the week. They have something we have lost.

“I felt like telling them, ‘You live in a dump by our standards, but do you know what you have? You’re not cynical like we are. You’re all smiling. Why should you be smiling? You don’t have any reason to smile. You live in a shack! It smells like garbage. But you have father and mother and clear, simple identity.’”

Then, this priest confesses: “I don’t know who trained them to do this, but you constantly feel your hand taken by the little Filipino children. They take your hand and put it to their head. They don’t ask you to bless them. They take it from you. It made me weep. For they have their souls yet! They have light, they have hope. The little children call you ‘Fodder, Fodder,’ and I think when they pull blessings out of you, blessings really come forth.

“They are ready for the blessing. They believe in the blessing, and you are not really sure if it was there until they saw it, expected it, and demanded it. These are the blessed of the earth,” he concludes.

These are ones who don’t need to be taught the faith. They live it. They live the mystery of life and death, blessing and loss. They’re okay with paradox, even if they can’t articulate it as such. They don’t need everything explained to them. They just love. And bless. And are blessed.

They, indeed, have the light of Christ. And they know it, deep down, in their souls.

Apart from the reference to Rapunzel and the film, Tangled, most of this reflection is adapted from Chapter 6, “Return to the Sacred” in Richard Rohr’s book, “Everything Belongs”

The wrong sign

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When a road sign indicates something that you don’t expect is the case, it makes me wonder who is behind the seeming prank. What are they up to? What’s their point?

A couple of summers ago when we drove to Florida, a road sign caught my attention. It was hot when we passed through South Carolina and Georgia on the I-95 where many bridges line the route over various waterways and rivers. I can still remember the heat radiating off the hard-top on the interstate.

So you can understand why I did a double-take coming on to several of these bridges seeing a road sign that depicted a thermometer whose temperature hovered around freezing; above the thermometer was shown a car sliding out of control: “Bridge freezes first,” the sign warned.

Are you kidding me? Seriously? On the one hand, the image is true; as a Canadian surviving and driving on our highways during a rather hard winter, I know that when the temperature is below freezing, the highway can be very slippery. But in the southern U.S.? Perhaps last month that was the case there. But I have to confess a deep reservation that they would experience this danger on a regular basis even at this time of year. In fact, we could use some more of that signage up here in Canada.

One of my favourite Old Testament scholars, Walter Brueggemann, once joked in lecture that a metaphor, or a sign, is only good to a certain point. When you make an argument that is supported well by a metaphor, we say it’s a good metaphor. But when the limits of the metaphor become apparent, the one making the point uses the excuse, “Well, it’s just a metaphor.”

I wonder if that’s not the case with some of the metaphors, or images, we read in the bible. Let’s look at the image that describes Jesus as the “Lamb of God” (John 1:29-42) in our Gospel text today. There is something about that metaphor, that sign, that rings very true. But there is also something about that sign that just doesn’t make sense.

For example: A lamb in the temple rituals of the ancient Israelites was offered as a sacrifice to atone for the sins of the people. But if Jesus is now that lamb, why does a wrathful God have to be satisfied by the death of someone, let alone His only begotten son?

After all, God is Almighty. God can do anything. God is fundamentally loving and forgiving (1 John 4:7-21). If God needed to be satisfied by the death of Jesus to atone for our sins, why couldn’t God have simply exercised what Jesus instructed his disciples to forgive “70×7” (Matthew 18:22)? Why couldn’t God forgive, as many times as is necessary (i.e. infinitely), every person on earth in every place and time?

I read this week (pastordawn.wordpress.com) that the actual phrase, “Lamb of God” comes from the Jewish religious rites of Yom Kipper. It was during this festival celebrating the Day of Atonement that two unblemished lambs were brought to the temple to bear the sins of the people. But one was then set free into the wilderness.

The ritual around the Day of Atonement had at its central aim, to be united with God, to be reconciled with God. People were aware of and acknowledged their sin. That is what sin is – when we ‘miss the mark’ in faith. This confession was understood as a way towards that ultimate goal of reconciliation with God, a reconciliation that begins in our life on earth.

What happened to Jesus was an injustice. Jesus dying on the cross was a bad thing. He died wrongfully. Just like so many people today suffer injustice on a large scale – dying in wars, brutalized unjustly. God the Father was first to shed a tear when Jesus died; God is first to shed a tear when one of his followers – that’s us – suffers.

But as is often the case, God makes something out of nothing good. The willingness on the part of Jesus to give his whole self unto a wrongful death carries an important message to us. This is the good news, the Gospel: Jesus death and resurrection gives us permission to live life fully in our humanity. Jesus death and resurrection gives us permission to respond positively to Jesus’ invitation – as he made to Andrew and Simon – to “come and see” what God is all about, to embrace our walk on earth with others in faith. Jesus death and resurrection gives us permission even to embrace our own earthly death.

Because this life on earth matters. We are on the path to reconciliation with God that begins in this time and place. We are together on this faith journey to be united with God. Our lives are being transformed in the waters of baptism and in daily walk in faith. This is good news. As I said, one of the first disciples of Jesus identified in this text is Simon; already, early on in his discipleship, Jesus invites him into the transformed life, symbolized by changing his name from Simon to Cephas – the Rock, Peter.

As the liturgy of Holy Communion articulates it well: Jesus, “who on the Cross, opened to us the way of everlasting life” that is to say, to become fully united with God; to respond to that earthly journey towards union with God, a union that will one day be complete, beyond death.

The word “diabolical” comes from two Greek words meaning “to throw apart.” If something or someone is diabolical, that someone or something is dividing and separating that which could be united and at peace. The evil one tears the fabric of life apart. In contrast, the Spirit of God seeks to make one out of two; the Spirit comes to mend, soften and heal.

“Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” cries the Baptist. How does Jesus ‘take away’ the sin of the world? The Son of God accomplishes this through forgiveness. Forgiveness is the M.O. of Jesus. Jesus gives his life for us, on the Cross. His sacrifice is an act of forgiveness. And, as such, unyielding love.

Richard Rohr points out that about two-thirds of Jesus’ teachings are about forgiveness; about a third of all the parables of Jesus, directly and indirectly, have to do with forgiveness (p.133-134, Everything Belongs). The growth and positive change that we experience in our lives because of following Jesus come about not because of a fear of punishment from a wrathful, legalistically-bound God who demands sacrifice in order to be satisfied. The growth and positive change in our lives happens through tears of confession and assurances of forgiveness more so than through threats and punishments.

That’s the powerful and most important meaning of the images of Lamb and Cross that we associate with Jesus: Forgiveness is God’s entry into powerlessness, humility. When we encounter the living Jesus in our own lives, we find someone not against us, but someone who is definitely for us!

The goal of faith is not separation, but union – union with God. We may call it getting to heaven, or being saved – however we describe it. But, ultimately discipleship is about bringing together, rather than dividing. True religion is about union. To live in conscious union, relationship, with God is what it means to “be saved”. To be restored, united, in Christ today is to be restored, united within the living Body of Christ, which is the Church. We are the hands and feet and eyes of Christ in the world today.

To exercise a ministry of reconciliation can only be done with great humility and grace. This was the dominant posture of Jesus’ work on earth: that he submitted himself to be baptized by John, that he knelt to wash the feet of his disciples, that he willingly made himself vulnerable in every human way possible, even unto death on a cross (Philippians 2).

Going into the World Junior Hockey Tournament or the Olympics, Canada is always one of the strong favourites. And given the high expectations, and with the entire nation looking on – there is, to say the least, a lot of pressure on the Canadians to win it all. I heard on the news that during the preliminary round of the World Juniors in 2010 in Buffalo, rather than making the mistake of being over-confident and arrogant, the coach then, Dave Cameron, taught his players to be humble in the face of all the attention and competition. Be humble. Interesting – especially in the highly competitive dog-eat-dog culture, we have the Canadian coach teaching his players the value and wisdom of humility.

In the church, and in the faithful living-out of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, however, it’s not some winning and some losing. It’s about doing both, winning and losing – doing both not apart and divided and competitive – but doing both together with grace and humility.

In humility, we can forgive and let go. In humility, we can see the other’s point of view. In humility we can see others as they are, created and loved in God’s image. In humility we can grow in faith in the ministry of reconciliation.

Let us pray that in all that we are and do, we seek to mend, to heal, and to unite that which has been divided in and among, and around us.

The visible signs of unity in the church can be today the most significant. Let’s watch for these signs.

Body Care

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I admit this quote from St Theresa of Avila serves to motivate me to think twice about indulging in behavior that does not contribute to my bodily health. Not that that second thought leads always to healthier choices or self discipline. But maybe a regular return to these words over time will sink deep into my heart…..

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours, when
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

Impossible demands Incredible love

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Mark Wahlberg is known for his acting prowess in films like “The Perfect Storm”, “Italian Job”, “The Fighter” and will star in next year’s “Transformers” sequel. He recently gave an interview with CNN’s Piers Morgan about the transformation in his life – from being a brawler and coke addict as a teenager to being a faithful Christian who now starts each day going into a church to pray.

Piers asks Mark Wahlberg, “What do you pray for?” He basically answers by saying he wants to be the best person he can be – responsible, a good neighbor, father, son, and servant to God.

On one level, I appreciate very much when popular, culture icons like Mark Wahlberg give public testimony to the Christian faith. His example gives a positive impression to the power of prayer, especially among younger people. “What do you pray for?” seems to strike a chord, since it is fashionable for skeptics who question God’s loving existence to point to unanswered prayer. Have they considered the very goal of prayer?

In the Gospel of John, one of the first words recorded out of the mouth of Jesus when he meets up with a couple of his disciples are: “What are you looking for?” (John 1:38). Apparently Jesus, too, recognizes the significance of, first off, identifying what it is we want, or expect, from God.

We may feel like the early disciples of Jesus did, then, when they asked Jesus: “Teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). Jesus responds by instructing them to say what has become known as the “Our Father” or “The Lord’s Prayer” – the paramount prayer of Christianity.

So, what does Jesus tell us to ask for? In Luke’s version of the Lord’s Prayer (Luke 11:1-4), the first thing we ask for is “Thy Kingdom Come”. Perhaps this can give us a clue to the aim and nature of our Christian prayer.

In the interview, Mark Wahlberg says that he would rather give favours than receive favours. It is natural, is it not, to want to believe that our redemption and transformation will happen as a result of our good efforts? Even prayer becomes about telling God what we want and desire, about actualizing our dreams for a better world and life by our energy and efforts and eloquence.

There is much in this Gospel text to suggest that our growth and maturity rests with our initiative: “Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened” (v.9-10). We resonate with those words, don’t we? They roll off our tongues easily enough! And we tell ourselves to buck up!

Yet, how many times have we given up on prayer because what we asked for so diligently hasn’t come to pass? We may have prayed and prayed and prayed for release from some kind of bondage or for someone else’s well being. And whatever it is continues to burden our lives. The issue remains unresolved.

This conundrum might be best described with forgiveness. In the Lord’s Prayer we ask God for forgiveness. But this forgiveness, it seems, is conditional upon our ability to forgive ‘everyone’ indebted to us! “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”

That’s a tall order! Yikes! Have I forgiven – truly forgiven – others who have hurt me? And not only the one person that first comes to mind – but everyone who has ever hurt me? If not, will God forgive me?

Right after the Lord’s Prayer Jesus tells a rather weird story about going to a friend in the middle of the night to ask for three loaves of bread. Notwithstanding the awkward position in which you would be putting your friend in the middle of the night, why on earth wouldn’t you have something as basic as bread in your house at any given time?

Why would you be all out of bread in the first place? In a culture devoid of corner stores and open-all-night Seven-Elevens, you would think folks in Jesus’ day would plan ahead and have food stored up. Obviously a subtext of Jesus’ story here is the irresponsibility, laziness, short-sightedness, and sinfulness causing you to go to your friend in the first place.

How many times have I withheld grace or forgiveness from someone because I have felt they haven’t done their part enough to deserve my help?

On one hand I admire the person going shamelessly and boldly to the friend. It takes guts to interrupt someone, especially at night. Perhaps we can learn from this the trust and confidence you have in your friend to help you. Similar to the trust and confidence we are called upon to place in God.

Elsewhere in the New Testament the writer John expresses it this way: “I write the truth to you because you already know the truth” (1 John 2:21). We receive these words of Scripture and the word of God in Jesus Christ not because we don’t know it or don’t have it. We receive the words telling the truth of Jesus today because the truth and presence of Jesus already resides within us – at that deep level, in our hearts. The bible’s message is given to us to remind us, to help us re-member, what is already living within us.

And so with confidence, boldness, and shamelessness, we approach the “throne of grace” (Hebrews 4:13) with our pleas for help – even when those requests are misguided, selfish and born from our own weaknesses.

And this is the point, I believe, of the Gospel. Ultimately it is not about our efforts to make something of prayer and our relationship with God. Rather, it is about a God who will help us, no matter what. Jesus reminds us that God is always willing to offer us the help we need in order to live out the truth of Christ within us for the sake of the world which God so loved (John 3:16). Such is the incredible love of God even in the face of impossible demands.

While God receives all our prayers, however tainted with our ego compulsions, fears and neediness, the power of prayer resides in ‘thy kingdom come’ – which some ancient transcripts translated as “Your Holy Spirit come upon us and cleanse us.” Such a rendition is worth considering, because it is consistent with the last verse (13) of the text: “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

I wonder about the positive changes we desire for our lives. I wonder about how we shall pray for the good things we seek for ourselves, those we love, the church, and the world around us. What do you pray for? – the Holy Spirit? – the deep yearning for an experience of God’s love and grace and forgiveness? – that our lives be transformed according to love of God for us and for the world?

Will we pray for, and in, God’s will?

When we pray, “Thy kingdom come” are we willing to let ‘my kingdom’ go? (Richard Rohr).

What do you expect from God?

Good things! Good things, for the sake and love of the world, in Christ Jesus.

Food with Focus

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Very few other texts from the Bible generate such passionate discourse in my family and extended family as this one (Luke 10:38-42). So, out of awareness, love and respect for especially the women in my life, I must confess I approach this sermon with a little trepidation. Because this story about Jesus is fraught with some interpretive pitfalls.

To begin, I think it must be said that Jesus is not against being busy and active when helping others, regardless of gender. After all, in the Gospel of Luke, Jesus self-describes as a “servant” (Luke 22:26-27; 12:37). So it hardly makes sense to suggest he is admonishing Martha – one of his best friends – for being busy, serving. The first verse of the Gospel text today announces that Martha “welcomed” Jesus into her home; she “opened the door” as some translations have it, to let Jesus in.

Thank God for Martha! She initiated this encounter and made possible, by her invitation, Jesus’ presence and teaching. This story is not about either service or prayer; it’s not choosing one over the other. Both characterize the people of God; both are necessary, holy, and good.

What is more the point, here, is acknowledging and re-connecting – in all our contemplation AND action – with the centre and source of our faith: God, in Christ Jesus.

When serving others in your home, the focus, while mediated through the gift of a shared meal together, is not about the food. It’s about presence of mind and heart. What’s important is being with and connecting with your guest, not fretting and fuming over the food preparation and setting – nor your guest’s reaction to your food.

I know, for some, this might seem a no-brainer, self-evident. But especially for those who can easily get caught up in perfectionist expectations and compulsive people-pleasing ways of being – this is particularly difficult.

The most important thing is the very reason we are making the effort to prepare the food in the first place – the relationship you have and the blessing of the other’s presence with you in your home, your space. First things first.

We don’t know what happened after Jesus spoke. Again, the Gospel leaves it up to us. How did Martha react to Jesus’ admonition? Did she continue fluttering about in her anxiety, cursing under her breath? What did Mary do? For all we know, Mary could have gotten up and started helping Martha. We can only speculate, of course. But would Mary engage the act of service better grounded in purpose and aware of the presence of Jesus in all her busy-ness?

The Gospel story doesn’t tie it up neatly. We may wish the Gospel writer concluded Jesus’ teaching here with a nice, satisfying ending where both Mary and Martha are seen behaving in ways reflecting the teaching of Jesus. But it’s not so, because the transformation – the change – is meant for our lives. How do we act? How will we respond to this scenario? How does this story affect and change our lives?

First, may I suggest that we can apply Mary’s approach to our whole life – not just those prescribed ‘holy’ moments in formal worship on Sunday mornings. But more importantly – as the setting of the Gospel story implies – in our very homes and among our regular, daily relationships with those closest to us. We need to simply observe what is going on. And, in our simple and honest observation, as people of faith, we must first confess that – for one thing, we are distracted.

Some years ago now, Tom Friedman had a column in the New York Times (Nov 1, 2006) entitled “The Taxi Driver”. He told of being driven by cab from Charles de Gaulle Airport to Paris. During the one-hour trip, he and the driver had done six things: the driver had driven the cab, talked on his cell phone, and watched a video (which was a little nerve-racking!), whereas he had been riding, working on a column on his laptop, and listening to his iPod. “There was only one thing we never did: talk to each other.”

Friedman went on to quote Linda Stone, a technologist, who had written that the disease of the Internet Age is “continuous partial attention.” Perhaps it is not only the disease of the Internet age; perhaps it has always been with us, and just the causes of our inattention have altered (cited from James Wallace in Feasting on the Word, Year C, Proper 11, page 267). That is why today, one of the most confounding verses in the Bible is Paul’s instruction to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) because how can we pray always when we are plagued with “continuous partial attention”. Antidote – we need to pray more, and focus our mind and heart.

Laurence Freeman, leader in the World Community for Christian Meditation, suggests that the problem we find today among even good Christian people is this division between heart and mind. The heart wants to do, and the mind is distracted. Once the mind is focused and aligned with the heart, a person can discover the peace of Christ. And then, all activity is done mindful of the presence of Jesus – in all situations and circumstances of life.

A posture of listening before speaking. An approach to another that communicates – “I first seek to understand you” before spouting YOUR opinion. An attitude of inner stillness that is focused and undivided on the intent and purpose of whatever it is that you do.

In many ways the history of this congregation, from the early days in the 1950s when this space we sit in today was built, through the 1990s when the addition was built and then early in the last decade the parsonage was sold – in many ways our history has revolved around bricks and mortar. Has this been the ‘food’ of our ministry?

There is little doubt in my mind now that I’ve been with you over a year that the issue of ‘building’ has been not only front and foremost in your minds in recent years. But, also, the energy for this project is gathering momentum again.

The question is – and perhaps this text can serve for us some guidance – is it going to be just about the ‘food’? Or, will the ‘food’ be guided by the ‘focus’? Will any plans to build or renovate be fueled by a mission focus? I hope so. With the understanding that first and foremost Jesus is found both in here and out there? That the Jesus in me sees the Jesus in you? That any building be grounded in purpose and function and Christian vision.

You heard the famous Japanese proverb? That vision without action is daydreaming; but action without vision is a nightmare.

How do we change the mind? “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind …” (Romans 12:2) Paul writes in his letter to the Romans. In contemplating a changed life offered by Jesus, I think we need to appreciate the very possibility and health around changing the way we think; that is, changing our attitudes, our beliefs, that underpin all that we do. Especially those beliefs and attitudes that serve only to keep us stuck in unhealthy ways of being.

Michael Harvey, in his book, Unlocking the Growth; You’ll be Amazed at your Church’s Potential (Monarch Books, Grand Rapids Michigan, 2012, p.18), writes about neuroplasticity, which looks at how our brains work. Scientists have discovered the brain is ‘plastic’ and ‘malleable’. In other words, our brains are not simply ‘hard-wired’ from childhood. Life experiences beyond those critical early years can change the brain.

When they study stroke victims, they discovered that each time someone repeats a movement or action, a neuro-pathway in the brain is formed initially as a scratch. But each time it is repeated it becomes deeper and deeper until it becomes automatic, a habit. You may have heard the advice that if you want to start a new, healthy discipline – like exercise or some diet – you need to do it on each of 21 consecutive days before it’s a habit.

The concept of neuroplasticity suggests to me that should we focus our attention – our minds – on what we want to change, and then repeat it frequently enough the thought or belief will take root, and then affect our behaviour. That’s the power of the mind.

How do we change the heart? Those like Martha usually start with action. So, simply start behaving in better ways. Start acting “as if” you are healed. As if we are thriving. As if we are transformed people of God inheritors of the kingdom. As if we are children of God – loved, redeemed, forgiven, saved. Start acting it! That’s the power of the heart.

And when the mind and heart are aligned in the awareness of the steadfast, constant, unconditional presence of Jesus, peace reigns in our lives and our action and contemplation are grounded, clear, and focused.

In Saint Paul’s words, “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20).

 

Covenant: a relationship of truthfulness and fidelity

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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

On the journey – Now

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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!

A mutual, loving relationship in the name of Jesus

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“I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” (John 17:26)

Did you catch the Huffington Post article this week about the fastest growing baby names? ‘King’ and ‘Messiah’. Yes, ‘King’ and ‘Messiah’.

Expectations for our children must be growing!

While we may joke about what our names mean, the humour always reveals a glimmer of truth: Our names do reveal something of our essence. Our names are gateways into our character. People get to know us, first, by knowing our names.

My first name is Martin — I was born on Reformation Sunday (always the last Sunday in October), named after the church reformer of the 16th century, Martin Luther. And it so happens I am a Lutheran pastor!

My second name is Emanuel — which in the Hebrew language identifies God’s presence, meaning “God is with us”. In the Gospel of Matthew (1:23), Emanuel is ascribed to the coming Messiah. I like to think God is always with me.

My last name — Malina — as you may know reading this blog, means, from the Polish language, ‘raspberry’. I like to think raspberries convey sweetness.

Well, that pretty well sums it up! Now you know who I am!

What does your name signify about you? Inquiring can be both an amusing and insightful exercise.

In the Gospel reading (John 17:20-26) for this seventh Sunday after Easter, in the High Priestly Prayer, Jesus prays for the unity of his disciples present and future (that’s us!). There, we find a delightful play on words (in Greek) between ‘one’ (hen) and ‘in’ (en).

Indeed, to be one with another is to be in them. Jesus describes his intimate relationship with the Father this way. When I was a teenager in the 1980s, we used to talk like this to describe something or someone we liked — I’m in to that kind of music; or, I’m in to that person.

Our God is a relational God, to begin with. And, what is more, this relationship is characterized by affection and love. The word ‘love’ is mentioned five times in this short passage about divine and human unity.

The reciprocity of love described here necessitates some engagement on our part. We are called to respond. “In the name of Jesus”, we pray. “In the name of Jesus”, we involve ourselves in Christ’s mission on earth. “In the name of Jesus” we live, we breathe, we move and have our being. We are part of this dance with Jesus; we have a vital role to play in our relationship with God.

Because what Jesus teaches us is what is vital to any healthy relationship whether divine or human: mutuality. We speak here of a mutual relationship of love. Should Jesus live in us, which he promises to do, we engage in mutuality. That is, what you want most from this relationship with God — you first give.

If you want forgiveness, try forgiving others and yourself.

If you want love, give it to someone else.

If you want respect, show respect to God and to others.

And this concept of mutuality operates, really, in all healthy relationships — whether marriage, work, friendships, families, etc. At first, it may feel counterintuitive. Because what you want is something you may feel you lack. The paradox, however, lies in precisely the opposite: You will only receive what you think you don’t have, by giving it out to others.

But lest we get it into our heads that we must be like our ‘King’ or ‘Messiah’ — even if our names reflect such a designation! — stop, breathe, and let go of the pressure, demands and expectations of your perceived purpose in life!

The relationship of love begins when God calls us by name (Isaiah 43:1). When God says our name, we are blessed indeed. God’s voice naming us calls us back to ourselves. In the garden the morning of the resurrection, Mary mistakes Jesus for the gardener; it isn’t until Jesus speaks her name, “Mary”, when she is brought back to herself — and recognizes Jesus for who he is, the risen Son of God (John 20:16). The mutual relationship is born, and reborn, each time Jesus calls us by name.

Unlike what happens in a dance, the two partners involved in the covenant relationship with God are not entirely equal. We are not Jesus. And while in the Holy Spirit we can do great things for God and God’s mission, the first move comes from Jesus. He chose us (John 15:16). He called us by name to join in the dance. He makes the first move. Because when we slip and fall in the dance of life and love — which is bound to happen — Jesus is there to pick us right up again.

Because God loves us first.

Wisps of Wisdom — on sin & forgiveness

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How does our perspective on sin and forgiveness relate to the following ‘wisps of wisdom’ on the sometimes heavy topics of sin, judgment — and forgiveness?

It’s Lent, after all! Aren’t we supposed to dwell on these matters?

At a round table discussion last weekend with several senior, committed, lifelong Christians, I heard these kinds of statements:

“Confessing sin is about becoming aware again of my need for and my dependence on God.”

“God will not act toward us in judgment because of our sins so much as for all the gifts we refused from the gracious hand of God.”

“Forgiveness of sins is not a reprieve from a judge but an embrace from a lover.”

“It is not Jesus’ suffering and death that saved us but Christ’s love.”

What do you think? I, for one, am grateful and encouraged.