Are We There Yet?, December 30, 2012

Are We There Yet?

BRIEF SUMMARY:  Becoming an adult in our faith journeys mean taking responsibility for the way of life Jesus modeled for us.  

Sermon for December 30, 2012 (Christmas 1) based on Luke 2:41-52

Rev. Kathryn Ransdell

An almost 4-year-old asked his mom on the way to church, "How many times until I grow up?" 
It's interesting that from such a young age, most kids begin to dream about what life will be like as a grown-up.  It is not easy being a little person in this world, going through the entire day being told what to do and when to do it.  Get-up.  Get dressed.  Go to school.  Eat dinner.  Take a bath.  Go to bed. 
Just imagine if adults were told when and how their days would unfold.  Revolt!  The particularly intense desire for independence would rise-up and demand freedom and justice for all, well, at least for adults. 
Returning to the four-year-old's question, there is a bit of a crisis in our society today around this idea of what makes a person an adult. 

Different cultures hold different answers.  Author Katherine S. Newman, in her book, Boomerang Kids, Anxious Parents, and the Private Toll of Global Competition, highlights how Americans see adulthood as a "process of self-discovery" and Europeans see it as "a station defined by the way one relates to others.” 
Perhaps the measurements for granting status as an adult are shifting.  The 1950s pattern for establishing yourself as an adult went something like this:  high school, then college, then first job and marriage, then buy a house, then have 2.5 kids.  
The current economic picture doesn't allow for the story to unfold like this any longer.  Many college graduates face months of unemployment before landing a first job.  Marriage is happening later, and later, with many couples waiting until their late 20s or early 30s to marry.  Buying a house is becoming somewhat more elusive for college graduates who find themselves leaving school with a significant student loan debt.  As for having kids, moms in their 30s and beyond have raised the average age of mothers from 21 in 1970 to 25.1 in 2008.   
In this kind of environment, it is no wonder that many adults find their adult-children moving back home.  This cultural trend has led adult-parents to seek advice on what to do in these situations, so articles like one published in The New York Times March 9, 2012,  "Rules for when the chick returns to the nest" are becoming more common.  

In the Jewish culture, a coming-of-age-ceremony known as the Bar-Mitzvah (boys) are Bat-Mitzvah (girls) ties the designation of adulthood to a specific age.  Boys go through this ritual at age 13, while girls go through it at age 12.  From this ritual, there is an understanding that they are now responsible for their actions.  
In general, do you think 13-year-old boys, or even the most mature 12-year-old girls, responsible for their actions?  If you've ever spent time with junior high kids, then you might have some things in common with Mary and Joseph in today's Scripture.   
Jesus is 12-years-old when the family makes the pilgrimage to Jerusalem for Passover.  This is something they did every year, which means there was familiarity to the experience.  Dad stresses over getting the car packed while Mom makes sure she didn't forget anything.  The oldest brother tries for a window seat while the baby in the family whines for the other window, leaving the middle child, once again, stuck in-between.  

Are we there yet?

There is familiarity while away, like going to the same vacation spot every year.  Unpack the car, settle into the cabin, unpack your stuff, and begin the celebrations.  When the vacation time is over, time to repack.  Everyone is tired.  Grumpy.  It was a great experience, and, it is great that it is now over.  Time to go back home and enter normalcy once again. 
Something happens on the way home.  One-day into the return trip, someone asks, "Where's Jesus?"  He must be in someone else's car.  A flurry of cell phone calls and consistent, "No, he's not with us," grows into an all-out panic.  Turn the car around.  Drive as fast as you can. Get there.  And finally, there he is... 
A mixed emotion emerges within parents in moments like these.  When you find the child who was lost, there is an immense wave of relief that  mixes with a surge of frustration that the child would get themselves lost in the first place. 
Jesus meets his parents who are in a very human place with a very divine understanding: "Why were you searching for me?  Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?"
After 13 long years, Mary hears from her son what others, human and divine, have been telling her.  First the angel announced it to her before Jesus was born.  Then, her also pregnant, cousin Elizabeth celebrated with her.  Next, some unknown shepherds knocked on the door of the stable shortly after his birth.  When he was only 8 days old, two strangers, one a devout Jew and the other, a widow prophetess, in the temple said amazing things about this boy.   
They said amazing things about this boy.  Mary tucked these stories deep into her heart as any parent does.  No matter how old a child gets, parents look at the person and yet see the child whose diapers needed changing, knees needed bandaging, and tears needed drying.   
The story of Jesus' childhood as told in the Gospels comes to an end in these verses, as we don't meet Jesus again until the next chapter, when he is 30-years-old, which coincidentally, seems to be the age when people begin to get their acts together, aka, becoming an adult.
After the external voices of anticipation and the recognition by strangers, Jesus articulates his purpose with clarity and conviction.  "I must be in my Father's house."
"I must be..." The English word "must" is derived from the Greek word, "dei," meaning implying a sense of necessity.  This word, dei, though is from the root word, "deo," which means to literally bind, or chain, two things together.  
"I am literally bound to my Father's house." 
On this Sunday, the next to the last day of the year 2012, let us examine where this past year has taken us.  How much of it did we live on purpose?  How much of the year came from a place of clarity and conviction?  We will enter a new calendar year in two days.  How much of this new year will we live on purpose?   
And what a blessing it is that we are entering another calendar year!  We began 2012 with stories of a Mayan calendar that predicted the end of the world in December 2012.  Look's like we are all still here.  
The world is still here.  And, the world needs a church that works on purpose, with clarity and conviction.  
"Do you think the world is better today than it was 2,000 years ago?"  This was a question always asked by the great philanthropist Stanley S. Kresge, founder of K-Mart.  His former pastor from First United Methodist Church in Detroit, Dr. William Quick, recounted this question in a sermon preached to a group of seminary students on the last Sabbath of the second millennium.  Dr. Quick believed that the answer to this was yes, the world is better off, because Jesus and his teachings lie behind all efforts of social reform.  

It was Jesus who put an end to slavery.
It was Jesus who elevated the status of women.
It was Jesus who sanctified childhood.
It was Jesus who conferred on us our liberty. 
It is Jesus who will push us to equal marriage and civic rights for gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgendered persons. 
It is Jesus who will bring about financial, lending and credit reform.
It is Jesus who will teach us that we only have one earth and instead of wanting more, Jesus will teach us what we really need is less. 
It is Jesus who will whisper our purpose for 2013, and it will be Jesus, who will plant in our hearts and minds the clarity and conviction this world so desperately needs.
It is Jesus who has given us a new way of life, a new standard of conduct, and a new power for living.

Are we ready to accept this responsibility?  
Are we ready to be forgiven, so that we might forgive others?  
Are we ready to receive God's peace, that we might be at peace with others?  
Are we ready to elevate the status of those considered unworthy, as we have been elevated? 
Are we willing to live with a different standard of conduct, a different power, and a different way of life?

In other words, as Christians, are we ready to grow-up and take responsibility for Jesus' actions?    

Keep Your Feet in the Light, December 09,2012

Keep Your Feet in the Light

Sunday December 09, 2012

Rev. Kathryn Ransdell

Baruch 5:1-9
Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction, O Jerusalem,
   and put on for ever the beauty of the glory from God. 
Put on the robe of the righteousness that comes from God;
   put on your head the diadem of the glory of the Everlasting; 
for God will show your splendour everywhere under heaven. 
For God will give you evermore the name,
   ‘Righteous Peace, Godly Glory’. 

Arise, O Jerusalem, stand upon the height;
   look towards the east,
and see your children gathered from west and east
   at the word of the Holy One,
   rejoicing that God has remembered them. 
For they went out from you on foot,
   led away by their enemies;
but God will bring them back to you,
   carried in glory, as on a royal throne. 
For God has ordered that every high mountain and the everlasting hills be made low
   and the valleys filled up, to make level ground,
   so that Israel may walk safely in the glory of God. 
The woods and every fragrant tree
   have shaded Israel at God’s command. 
For God will lead Israel with joy,
   in the light of his glory,
   with the mercy and righteousness that come from him.

Luke 1:68-79
68“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them. 69He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David, 70as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, 71that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us. 72Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors, and has remembered his holy covenant,73the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham, to grant us 74that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve him without fear, 75in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.76And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, 77to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. 78By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, 79to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”



People outside of the United States tend to get annoyed by the States.  People inside the States often don't consider the world outside of the contiguous 48 states (and I say that for a reason because Hawaii and Alaska often are forgotten too).  We vacation within our country rather than go to places like Europe, and we see Yosemite.  When we visit Niagara Falls, we visit Niagara Falls, NY, not Niagara Falls, Ontario. 

There is something else peculiar about those who live south of the 49th parallel.  In their early origins after what they call the Revolutionary War, as the 1800s progressed, there was this sense that America was the New Zion.  This fervour grew so strong that it inspired a westward land-grab underwritten by the message of Manifest Destiny--God has brought them to this new land to literally bring about God's kingdom, which means the heathens that were inhabiting the land were to be dealt with, either assimilated into what it means to be Christian, ie, a white European, or massacred.  

And this sense of religious entitlement carried into the 20th century, perhaps taken a backseat by the two World Wars when theology focused more on theodicy...where is God when suffering happens as husbands and fathers and sons died in trenches?  Irving Berlin, a Jewish immigrant into the US, wrote a song in 1918, called "God Bless America," with an introduction that has pretty much been dropped from the collective memory of this song:

While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,
Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free,
Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,
As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer.

In 1938, Berlin felt it was time to revive it as a "peace song", and it was introduced on an Armistice Day broadcast. 

 This theological phenomenon of Americanism as being divinely-guided rose again when the beginning seeds of the religious right merged with the fiscally conservative Republican party in the Reagan years.  The unofficial anthem of this peculiar people, "God Bless the USA," was first the theme song at the 1984 Republican National Convention.  This same song hit the charts again after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, and again, when the US invaded Iraq in 2003.

Now Canadians as a culture who rush to apologize before they have even offended, and others in the world, feel it is arrogant of the US to assume a unique divine connection.  And I would have to agree.  It is arrogant for the entire US to assume that God has somehow uniquely called it and fashioned it as God's own.  Because in truth, it is only the state of Texas that God truly has uniquely called it God's own and blessed that beautiful state. 

There, my cards are on the table.  Tongue in cheek, the US must look carefully at itself if it chooses to see its political and diplomatic actions through ideological and theological lenses.  Really, this applies to any country.  

So let's take a look at this morning's Scripture from Baruch.  Baruch was Jeremiah's private secretary. Legend tells us that he lived during the Jewish exile in Babylon (Iraq). History tells us that Jeremiah and Baruch were actually deported to Egypt where they both died.  Following Jeremiah's lead, he preached that the exile would end. He said that the people of Israel would return home in triumph. Baruch pictures mountains being leveled to facilitate this homecoming. The "mountains" are the political obstacles to be hurdled before it could happen.

The text of Baruch is identified as a confessional liturgy in 3 parts, used during the Second Temple time period.  This morning's Scripture comes from the third part of the litugy, known as the poem of consolation.  If it sounds familiar, that's because it echos the more known Advent and Christmas passages from Isaiah 40-66.

So who is the poem consoling when it refers to "O Jerusalem?"  If it truly is a poem, then with most poems, there are a 1,000-ways to interpret the metaphors and images.  Is it referring to the city of Jerusalem itself, as it was during the exile when the poem is set, or, to the city of Jerusalem as it was during the Second Temple period, 300 years later, when the poem was written?  

Is it referring to Jerusalem during the 1300-years when the Muslim empire controlled it?  Is it referring to Jerusalem before 1948?  Is it referring to Jerusalem before or after 1967?  Or is it referring to the Zionists in the 1800s who wanted the United States to be the New Zion, the place where Jesus would return and establish God's kingdom?  Or is it referring to the current-day Christian Zionists who have made strange political bed-fellows with the current-day Israeli government, in hopes that if they support the government of Israel they will put in-play the Second Coming of Christ, known in fundamentalist circles more simply as "The Rapture?" 

I think this is where we have to walk lightly with our theology.  If we understand Baruch as a confessional liturgy, and we go to the beginning of the liturgy, Baruch states what any country that has ever tried to align itself with ideological underpinnings must one day say, "The Lord our God is in the right, but there is open shame on us today, on the people of (the US), on the inhabitants of (America)."  

Baruch in chapter 1 speaks of the people of Jerusalem and the inhabitants of Jerusalem as something different from the "Jerusalem" to which God offers consolation to in today's text. 

And perhaps that's enough sermon in and of itself...it's us, the people, who were, and are, and always will be, the trouble-makers.  You could even read this text as a creation text, God consoling the whole earth...Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction, O Earth, O Gaia.

We humans are the ones who mess up the land, abuse the land, cross boundaries with the land creating unsustainable scenarios, so that in a sense, everyday, we repeat those first actions of Adam and Eve. We, the people, are treating the heavens--and the earth--as if it were ours for our disposal.  

 The church reads this passage in Advent so that we can consider messy things like religion and politics on what otherwise should have been a cheery Sunday in Christmas.  It's kind-of like how the liturgical music messes with us making us sing Advent songs in December that are told in minor keys.  As Darryl and I chose hymns this week, every tune he hummed, I didn't like, and then I realized, oh, it's advent, the season of singing in minor keys.  Can't the church be more like the world and begin playing its Christmas hymns a month in advance?  

And that's it...that's the problem.  The church can't be like the world.  

The church invisible is called to make itself visible in the world by being NOT LIKE THE WORLD.  

And this is what that looks like: "O Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.  The world lives in hatred, let me sow love.  The world gets stuck in how others injures it; let me pardon.  The world gets stuck in despair that the Mayan calendar just  might be right; let me be hopeful.  The world lives in darkness.  Let me be a light."  

The Jerusalem being consoled today by Baruch is the not-yet vision of a world that can one day be in community, which break this word down "com" "unity," a world that is with unity.  Imagine a world where we come together and aren't divided first by our geographical location, second by our class standing, third by our genitalia, fourth by what we do or don't do with that genitalia, fifth by our religious practices and observances, and sixth by whether we say "to-mae-to" or "to-mah-to."  

The church cites this passage to suggest a cosmic preparation for the coming of the Son of God.  At Christmas, Christian theology don't celebrate a past event, we celebrate that God's kingdom is coming.  In fact, what Marcus Borg and the historical Jesus movement want us to understand, is that the particular way the Nativity stories were written reflect this idea of a return of Christ. And this gets tricky for us educated, liberal Protestants who would rather do away with any talk of a Second Coming of Christ because our more conservative brothers and sisters have taken the lead on defining what we mean when we speak of the return of Christ.  

But why would we give away this vision of what God wants this world to be?  A vision that is shared by all three Abraham-ic faiths.  A vision that one day peace will reign on this earth.  And until that day, let that peace begin with me.  

There's not a lot out there on Baruch in the preaching world.  But I did find this poem, lifting out the verse, "Righteous Peace, Godly Glory" shall be the name of Jerusalem.  

The poet speaks to us, the inhabitants of this earth....

Righteous Peace begins our name
even with despair, betrayal, exile
in the midst of civil war, genocide, Gaia rape
we hear our name called and remember
Righteous Peace is who we are to grow to be

Godly Glory completes our name
in the midst of lies, pranks, hammer throwing
even with entitlements, covetousness, sorrow
we remember to listen for our name
Godly Glory is our chief end

no Righteous Peace, no Godly Glory
only Righteous Peace, no Godly Glory
no Godly Glory, no Righteous Peace
only Godly Glory, no Righteous Peace
both and both
Om shanti, shanti, shanti
(Posted by Wesley White)

The translation of "Om shanti," a Hindu phrase, goes like this:  "I am a soul, an eternal being." 

The Christian story adds that we are only souls known in relationship to one another and with God.  There is no individual in the Christian identity.  We are known in how we practice community between us as a people of faith and beyond us, as people who are called to live lives of peace.  

It is in living lives of peace, of realizing our eternal being, of knowing that what life is a temporary condition, that we fulfill the words Zechariah spoke over John the Baptist, 8-days after this birth as they prepared for the ritual circumcision.  "The dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."  

If darkness and death are separation from God, and if God is community, then the dawn we are hoping for is a dawning of community, a world with unity.  Those who sit in darkness are those who have know community, who are lonely, who are isolated, some by choice, some by the culture that encourages isolation as being more polite (try saying hello to people you pass on the sidewalk), and others by addiction or mental illness. 

And that's just us privileged North Americans.  We can't forget those who could not help where they were born.  Those who were born into lands that have been disputed for centuries past and probably centuries to come, until God's kingdom comes, most likely.  

It's interesting, just as Baruch and Jeremiah were probably carted off to Egypy rather than Babylon, because this book's original language is Hebrew, it was probably most likely written in what was then Palestine.  The past 6-weeks in modern day Palestine and Israel are enough to long for the taking off of this garment of sorrow and affliction.  We can't forget those who had no choice but to live in Palestine and Israel and who died in November because of the violence.  

Watch where your feet take you today.  Two days after this Wednesday, the date the  Mayans predict the world to end, the movie "The Hobbit" will be released.  This is one of my favourite quotes from the book:  

"He often used to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep and every path was its tributary. "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no telling where you might be swept off to."

War And Peace, November 11, 2012

WAR AND PEACE

Genesis 4:1-10

Matthew 26:47-54

Micah 4:1-1

St. Andrew’s-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

November 11, 2012

Remembrance Day, November 11th, infrequently falls on a Sunday.  And so, it feels both strange and right to be gathered here for worship on such a day, when normally we would find ourselves at the cenotaph, reflecting on sacrifices made by so many, from our own country, from around the world.  But this is a day, no matter where we find ourselves, to remember, to offer respect and gratitude to all our veterans, old and young – “Lest we forget.”  

On such a day as this I find myself wondering, not just about our Canadian soldiers who gave their lives, but also about those from so-called “enemy countries.”  I wonder what memories and feelings cenotaphs would evoke if the names of the fallen inscribed on monuments included not only Canadians, but also Germans, British, Japanese, Koreans, Italians, Americans, Vietnamese, Afghanis.  A different kind of remembering, perhaps, one that might heighten our yearning for a world at peace, where no one will practice war any more, where people shall “beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more….”

On such a day as this, Remembrance Day, November 11th, I find myself caught up in a lot of pondering – why do we humans seem to delight in killing each other?  What drives us from one war into another?  What’s wrong with us?  It’s a day to hear again the story of Cain and Abel, which names the problem, honestly and sadly, though with more questions than answers.  

The first murder/fratricide occurs very early on in the unfolding myth of Genesis: creation, goodness and beauty; first humans and then disobedience, expulsion from Eden, however you understand the story – and then it happens.  Chapter 4, abrupt, in your face, with minimal explanation.  Two brothers bring their offering to God, and for some unknown reason, Abel’s is preferred, Cain’s, rejected.  Cain is hurt, angry – and kills.  A little sibling rivalry goes a long way.

Though truth be told, I remember some tense moments with my younger brother.  I was the first born, used to being the only star in my parent’s universe --- and suddenly I had to share the love, the attention, the praise, the hugs.  Not easy; often tempted to go “Bam!” and eliminate the problem.   It wasn’t until years on that I realized that my brother felt the same way, and spent years trying to “catch up,” trying to establish his place.

Rivalry, jealousy: for position, status, love, wealth, influence.  The Biblical story doesn’t really talk much about motive, the “why” of murder, although the rabbinical tradition of Midrashic interpretation is more expansive.  Long ago Biblical commentators noticed a gap in the story line, a missing phrase at verse eight, where the original text simply says, “And Cain said, …” followed by a blank.  It’s hard to catch this in the English translations, for we have been swift to complete the unfinished sentence by simply assuming that Cain said, “Let us go out into the field,” since that’s the action that immediately follows.  But that’s not actually in the Bible.  “Ahhh” said the Rabbis, and they let their imaginations go off in many directions, as they suggested possible conclusions to that fateful phrase, “And Cain said to Abel….”.  Depending on which rabbi you read, you might discover that the key problem between the brothers concerned wealth or sex or power.  Any one of which could easily spark a murder, a war.

There’s an honesty in this story of Cain and Abel that I appreciate.  The capacity for violence seems to be part of our human make-up, and it helps to acknowledge this potential, instead of glossing over our propensity for greed and murder.  As Harvard psychologist, Steven Pinker points out, we are murderous apes, with a driving territorial imperative, linked with a thirst for blood and death, our genes hard-wired for aggression.  However, Pinker has actually entitled his book, The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Is Declining,” for he also believes we are a species with the capacity for reason, empathy and self-control.  He suggests that we can choose to not express our violence – which sounds a bit like God’s warning to Cain, “Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen?  If you do well will you not be accepted?  And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.” (I love that image of sin lurking at the door.  You know how it is – my brother has only to say the wrong thing, and “Bam!”  I’m all over him.)  Pinker cites many statistics that point to a decrease in violence among humans, even while he recognizes that it’s a dicey proposition. 

I would like to believe Pinker’s  argument, that violence is declining.  Perhaps it is, but still, on such a day as this, Remembrance Day, November 11th I cannot help but recall the statistics of war – two hundred and thirty-one million people killed in the wars of the last century; two hundred and fifty major conflicts in the world since WWII, and, depending on you who read, those conflicts have added  between twenty-three to fifty million names to the death toll – but hey, what’s a few million between wars.  Another disturbing statistic --in WWI ten per cent of the casualties were civilians; by WWII the proportion had climbed to fifty per cent.  And in our time, up to ninety-five percent of those who die are civilians, three quarters of whom are children and women.  Just ask the people of Gaza; of Sudan, or of the Congo; of Viet Nam, Iraq, Afghanistan.  And then, on top of these statistics, add the names of the bereaved, injured, raped, or simply traumatized.  Then add fifty million refugees.  I’m not sure I am fully convinced by Pinker’s arguments; I might stick with the Cain and Abel story. 

But before getting stuck there, let me add to the mix a few Jesus stories, like the one we heard today, where Jesus is arrested by the Romans and religious authorities, late at night in the Garden of Gethsemane.  One of Jesus’ disciples draws his sword and attacks a servant of the High Priest, slicing off his ear.  And Jesus’ response? – “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.”  This is the Jesus who said, “When someone strikes you on one cheek, turn and offer the other.”  Who said “Judge not, less you be judged.”  This would be the same Jesus who said, “Let the person who is without sin throw the first stone.” and “Blessed are the meek, the gentle, and the peacemakers.”  This is the Jesus who was determined to break the cycle of scapegoating and revenge with his own sacrifice, his own willingness to suffer and die. The one who said, “Love your enemy,” – don’t kill 231 million of them.  

So, the story of Cain and Abel, and then, Jesus; the murderous ape, and the love and compassion.  I have been moved by a poem y Boris Novak, a Slovene, who has seem much ethnic violence, his homeland being one of the arenas of war and killing.  He writes:

Between two words,

choose the quieter one.

Between word and silence

choose listening.

Between two books

choose the dustier one.

Between the earth and the sky

choose a bird.

Between two animals

choose the one who needs you more.

Between two children

choose both.

Between the lesser and the bigger evil

choose neither.

Between hope and despair

choose hope:

it will be harder to bear.

Choose two children, choose both—and I find myself thinking of Israeli and Palestinian; of Serb and Kosovan; of Sunni and Shiite. And how not to choose between the greater and lesser evil other than to choose self-sacrifice, suffering; to choose, perhaps, crucifixion. And always, between hope and despair, choose hope – despite the statistics, and Cain’s bloody blow and our hard-wired genes.  Choose hope even though it’s harder to bear.

Christians have been trying to figure out how to live with such choices for a long time. For the first three centuries after the death of Jesus, his followers did their best to hold to the way of non-violence.  A Christian could not be a soldier, could not be a member of the Imperial Roman army.  Which was a big problem for the Empire – as more and more people began to convert to this new faith, the military recruiters were in danger of running out of candidates for battle.  Just imagine what might have happened in 20th century Europe if every Christian had said, “Sorry, I won’t go to war; it’s against my faith.”  Imagine what would happen today if the worlds’ two billion Christians simply refused to fight?

Well, around the beginning of the 4th century, the Empire changed tactics – if you can’t beat ‘em, then join ‘em, co-opt them.  When Christianity suddenly became the official state religion, it was soon just fine for Christians to enlist and fight battles for king and country.  Warfare became “holy,” with God on our side, although no one stopped to think much about the fact that our enemies were just as loudly claiming that God was on their side and blessing their battles.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard a government say, “God’s not on our side, but what the heck, let’s go to war any way.”

In the face of this new reality, Christian thinkers began to develop the theory of the “just war,” trying to establish criteria for deciding when war might be justified – in self-defence, for example, in the face of aggression; or when all other means of response had been tried and had failed; when so-called collateral damage (read death of non-combatants, civilians), would be minimal.  The list was expansive and  helpful.  Indeed, it was this theology of the “just war” that was invoked by 

Christians to confront the dark power of Nazism in WWII. 

But the dream of peace never disappeared.  It drew on Old Testament roots – the vision of Micah where swords become plowshares, and spears, pruning hooks; and it was deeply influenced and inspired, over and over, by the words and example of Jesus.  When the Protestant Reformation burst upon Europe in the 16th century, once again a vision of the “Peace Church” became embodied in the Anabaptist movement, with Quakers, Mennonites and Amish  -- people of non-violence, who would not use weapons or force, who would turn the other cheek; and when the state came knocking at the door with draft documents, they claimed the role of faith-full conscientious objectors.  There are folk within the United Church who believe we should become such a Peace Church – that might be one way to give honour on such a day as this.

Recently, a new response to this eternal Cain and Abel question has arisen, called Responsibility to Protect, which raises questions about our obligation to intervene in the affairs of our neighbours when all hell is breaking loose.  Case in point – in Rwanda, the genocidal slaughter of 700,000 Tutsis by the Hutu people, aided and abetted by the government – and no one stepped up to the plate before it was too late.  Another example, the massacre of Kosovans by Serbia – and this time, Nato planes stopped the carnage early on.   R2P – a moral obligation to react and intervene, even if that means using the tools of war.  There has been a recognition that R2P can easily be misused, to justify an imperial invasion, but once again demanding criteria have been developed, including such issues as right intention, just cause, right authority, last resort, proportional means, reasonable grounds for success all become very important.  On such a day as this do we rejoice over the fact that the United Church has committed itself to participate in the Responsility to Protect movement?  

Over and over the Christian community has struggled to discover an appropriate response to the reality of war – how do we follow Jesus and yet recognize the truth of the Cain and Abel story, of crucifixion, of the darkness… in our human hearts, in the world?  On such a day as this let me raise up one final pathway, made famous in our time by Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr., -- the way of non-violent resistance, which says “No!” to violence and injustice, but refuses to pick up arms, weapons, that chooses to suffer rather than kill.  As Gandhi once said,

To recognize evil and not oppose it is to surrender your humanity.

To recognize evil and oppose it with the weapons of the evil-doer is to enter your humanity.

To recognize evil and oppose it with the weapons of God is to enter you divinity.

Enough!  Let me tell you three stories.  Last month I had a visit from two men from the Democratic Republic of Congo, They desperately wanted to talk about what was happening in their country, where war has been raging off and on for twenty years, where over five million people had been killed, where countless numbers of children have been forced to become soldiers, where thousands of women have been raped, where hundreds of thousands of people had become refugees in their own country.  Over and over these men said, “Moderator, please help us.”  And I did not know what to say.  They said, “Moderator, the world has forgotten us. Why?  Do we not matter?  Moderator, help us.” 

Second story – Isadeen Abuelaish, whose family fled to Gaza as refugees when they were driven from their home in what became Israel during the war of 1948; who became a doctor, a gynecologist and obstetrician, whose practice crossed the Israel-Palestine borders; a man committed to a life of healing, helping others give birth, Jew and Muslim alike.  And then, On January 16th, 2009, Israeli bombs destroyed his home, killing three of his daughters.  But instead of giving into an understand able anger and a desire for revenge, he proclaimed, “I shall not hate,” – and committed himself to a journey of forgiveness and reconciliation and peace; a journey of public-speaking and writing.  He now lives in Toronto; he has spoken in Vancouver; his book I Shall Not Hate is in our library.  On such a day as this – sign it out!

Final story – Leyman Bgowee, who chose the path of non-violence in a fourteen year struggle against the murderous regime of Charles Taylor in Liberia, speaking on behalf of the women and children of her country, refusing to be silenced, but refusing also to pick up a gun.  And the result – peace in Liberia with the Accra Accord of 2004; the first woman elected as president of an African country, Ellen Johson Sirleof, in 2008; and Leyman receiving the Nobel Peace Prize last year, in 2011.  

I share these stories as a declaration that the way of Jesus is a possibility, so on this November 11th, this Remembrance Day, let us remember, and  let us become blessed peacemakers.  

And no matter what happens,

Between hope and despair

Let us choose hope

Even though it will be harder to bear.