A Very Long Time, January 27, 2013

A Very Long Time

Emily Jarrett

Imagine a group of men, and maybe a couple of women, are gathered in a dusty room, their heads bowed down over their reading.  Wide windows are left uncovered, the curtains drawn back to let in the light so they can work.  There is the sound of pages turning, and the shuffling of feet along the floor, when suddenly, someone looks up at the man they are sitting opposite, and they start to speak.  They start to argue a point, and this other man, this partner of their’s starts to argue back.  Soon enough they might even be shouting, all the others in the room turned to watch and listen as they struggle to convince each other of their points, and then, the audience starts piping in with their own points.  “Well have you considered this passage in Exodus?”  “How about the interpretation of the great Rabbi this.. or that?” 

The early Jewish Study Houses were not quiet, staid places where people just leaned over their books and wrote their interpretations.  They were loud, and boisterous, and contentious, and let me tell you, so are our seminaries.  

We have been doing this for a very long time.

And we have been doing this, not just with for ourselves, but with the entirety of our communities.

You see, in this story that you just heard Nehemiah and Ezra are called to a beautiful, but broken community – fractured by politics and by war.   They have just led a group of exiles back from Babylon to their homeland of Judah, to the city of Jerusalem to restore and to rebuild.  You see not only had this community been fractured by military conquest, and the tearing town of their places of worship, but by the forced deportation and exile of their political and religious leaders – their cultural elite. 

And now, generations later, just out of the blue, their descendents just show up back in Judah.  

All of these other people who have been in Judah all along, who have never lived in a pre-exile community, suddenly have a group of strangers on their doorstep saying, “Hi, we’re back.  We are here to lead you, and by the way, since we’ve been doing things our own way over there in Babylon, we are going to be doing things a little differently from what you are used to.  We know the right way.”  Implied of course, your way is wrong.  You haven’t been worshipping appropriately in our absence.

I can’t imagine it went over that well.

And here now are Ezra and Nehemiah, called by God to minister to this beautiful, broken people, having just made the arduous journey back themselves.  Here they are faced with exile and inhabitant alike, needing to find common ground.  

The way the lectionary cuts this up, it sounds like a 2 man job, or rather, a job for two men and a Torah.  The pair of them show up, pull out the scrolls, and bang, together we read Torah and worship.  Well, the problem is, it cuts out two verses, 4 and 7.  One of the advantages of studying in a seminary where one of the people who worked on the Revised Lectionary works is that sometimes you get to ask why they made the choices that they did.  In this case, because these two verses, two lists of Hebrew names, are difficult to pronounce.  I am certain that Sunday morning readers the English-speaking world over are grateful for the choice, but it makes it sound like a two man job, and even then, a one man job.

Which is why we sometimes call this passage the calling of Ezra.  But the reading leaves out all of the people who call him.  This isn’t a one, or a two man job.  

“The scribe Ezra stood on a wooden platform that had been made for the purpose; and beside him stood Mattithiah, Shema, Anaiah, Uriah, Hilkiah, and Maaseiah on his right hand; and Pedaiah, Mishael, Malchijah, Hashum, Hash-baddanah, Zechariah, and Meshullam on his left hand. …  Also Jeshua, Bani, Sherebiah, Jamin, Akkub, Shabbethai, Hodiah, Maaseiah, Kelita, Azariah, Jozabad, Hanan, Pelaiah, the Levites,[a] helped the people to understand the law, while the people remained in their places.”

Together, all of them, found their common ground in the Torah.  Together, this fractured community, and all of its leaders, agreed to celebrate, and worship God through that which they still had in common – the Torah.

Well here I am, a seminary student, called to stand before you on what call Theology Sunday, and to proclaim the Word of God.  But I can’t do it alone.  It requires Kathy, and John, Mae and Arliss, Ray, Winfield, Tom.  It requires you.  All of you.  And all of us to agree to come together, as a community, and celebrate God through what we have in common. This (Bible).  And this (church.)  And for all of us to agree that through this text, and through this church, we are open to the experience of a loving God.

From Ezra and Exiles, to all of us here in St. Andrew’s Wesley today – we have been doing this for a very long time.

You see the Psalmist knew this – knew that we are better together, and that a love of the Bible and creation brings us together.  Jewish poet and Hebrew scholar Jessica Greenberg translates it like this: 

“Day after day overflows with speech;

night after night breathes out knowledge.

There is no word or phrase 

in which the voice of your creation is not heard

Throughout all the earth, rope

of their hopefulness goes forth

and their words reach the end

of the world’s long stretch of land.”

It has been said that “the book of Psalms is the Bible's book of the soul."  The psalms are at the beating heart of faith, mere words strung together but which evoke longing, laments, joyful praise and simple, abundant love.  Here in Psalm 19 it is love, a deep abiding love for the God who loves us so deeply, and the gifts of words, of learning and of knowledge that She gives to us.  

So the beating heart of this community includes a song of praise and love for the Torah, which brought Ezra, Nehemiah and the exiles and inhabitants back together.  And a song of praise and love for the beating heart of this community, the love told of in the Bible that holds us all now. Each with our own purpose, and role, supporting one another through our agreement to stand in these stories, and in this place with these people. 

From Ezra and Nehemiah, from the earliest Jewish study halls, to this congregation here, and the halls of VST, it brings us together to engage with the text, and the God known through it who has created us all.

Throughout the ages, all of us, praying together, that the words of our moths, and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable to you, Oh Lord our Rock, and our Redeemer. 

We have been doing this for a very long time.  

The thing is, God’s been doing it even longer. 

For as long as our history records, we have been coming together as communities of faith, and struggling with these questions of theology and life. Whether around a fireside, a ring of standing stones, a study hall, a church, or a temple.  

Since before our history books began, God has loved us, and this world we live in. Since before our ancestors came to this land.  Since before dinosaurs walked the single continent of Pangea. Since before the Big Bang brought the universe to life.  God has loved us.

We have been doing this such a very long time.  May we keep doing this for a very long time to come.  May we know that God is here, and always has been, in our words, in Creation, in this body of the church that we are called to be.  

And may we all answer our call, whatever it may be, whether to ministry and seminary – to medicine and science – to parenting – to justice, and always, always in all of it to love, to love God, to love this beautiful, fractured world that God loves so deeply. 

And may we always come together, standing here on holy ground, finding those things we can agree upon, and debating those things we don’t.  

May we reach back to God knowing, always, that God is reaching for us. Knowing that God loves us.  

Knowing that God loves you.  And He has for such a very long time. 

Epiphany Sunday, January 06, 2013

Epiphany Sunday 2013

January 6, 2013

Rev. Kathryn Ransdell

I'm so excited that Epiphany falls on a Sunday this year!  It is a cause for liturgical anxt of whether you celebrate Epiphany when it doesn't fall on a Sunday and if you do, it throws off the lectionary cycle...things you might not care about.  This year, for most of Advent, the way Matthew's gospel told the birth story kept calling to me; I kept wanting to sneak-it-in to services and Darryl would gently remind me that the Christmas story for most people is the angels and shepherds, not the crisis of a pregnant teenager and then some wise men from the east showing up, as told in Matthew.  From a text-criticism perspective, it is a useful exercise to say of today's text, "if all i had were this story, what would i know and believe of the gospel story?"  

Well, according to Biblical scholar Reginald Fuller, you would know very little fact.  Symbolism, however, might lead you to deeper belief.  

"All these factors contributed to the shaping of the Magi story. The only certain historical facts behind the narrative are the names Jesus, Joseph and Mary; the dating of the birth; and perhaps the location of the birth at Bethlehem, although that tradition may have originated from Mic 5:2 and Jewish expectation about the Messiah, The significance of the story is almost entirely symbolical." -- Reginald H. Fuller

We read the passage from Isaiah this morning to draw out the Old Testament images that are behind the story of the Magi.  

"A multitude of camels shall cover you,
   the young camels of Midian and Ephah;
   all those from Sheba shall come.
They shall bring gold and frankincense,
   and shall proclaim the praise of the LORD."

Although Mattew does not cite this passage, it clearly informed his gospel, especially the part about gold and frankincense.  This is part of Third Isaiah completed shortly after the exiles return to Jerusalem.  It's important to note, though, who is coming to Jerusalem in this passage...it is foretelling the eschatalogical pilgrimage of all Gentiles to the restored city of Jerusalem.  

"Lift up your eyes and look around;
   they all gather together, they come to you;
your sons shall come from far away,
   and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses’ arms. 
Then you shall see and be radiant;
   your heart shall thrill and rejoice,"

When this time comes that you welcome them, how are you to be?  Radiant, thrilled, and rejoicing.  Every person around us is a miracle, even if they drive us crazy or we don't understand them or we don't like their political position or their perfume, and we are called to be radiant, thrilled and rejoicing.  The message is welcoming to everyone! 

So Matthew brings this story into his telling of the birth story as a way to remind us that this child Jesus will be the one who brings people into God's grace.  The people you don't expect and the people who just don't get it.  It's interesting that the legends that have circulated with The Three Kings are ones where they encounter someone who misses "the event."  Almost as if those legends serve as wake-up calls...are we joining the procession of welcoming or staying stuck in our little worlds of to-dos, and anxieties, and borders?  
But let's just name it right now...Matthew doesn't have them on camels...that's from Third Isaiah and another Old Testament reference of someone who visited bearing similar gifts.  See, the wise men aren't the first.  The Queen of Sheba visited Solomon (2 Chronicles 9:1):

"Now when the queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon, she came to Jerusalem to test him with hard questions, having a very great retinue and camels bearing spices and very much gold and precious stones. And when she came to Solomon, she told him all that was on her mind."

Making a big deal of camels being in the story is somewhat due to our infrequent interaction with camels.  I'm not saying that I visit a camel on a regular basis, but camels were quite simply their mode of transportation for long distances.  We all know from biology that camels can go long distances without needing water...they were the first generation of hybrid vehicles.  If this whole Bethlehem and stable thing came about today, car makers would be falling all over themselves to have their vehicle chosen as the official vehicle of the wise men because the advertising they would get for centuries to come would be invaluable.    

 So the "wise men from the East came to Jerusalem... Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh."

To quote one of my friends from seminary, may she rest in peace, 'There were not three, they were not kings, and they did not come from the Orient!'

So what matters about this text?  No one says it better than Eugene Peterson, 
"The mystery is that people who have never heard of God and those who have heard of him all their lives (what I’ve been calling outsiders and insiders) stand on the same ground before God. They get the same offer, same help, same promises in Christ Jesus. The Message is accessible and welcoming to everyone, across the board."  (The Message)

The message is welcoming to everyone. 

And Paul continues, "This is my life work: helping people understand and respond to this Message. It came as a sheer gift to me, a real surprise, God handling all the details."

I've been so happy to have Epiphany on a Sunday that I even incorporated the themes in a beautiful wedding that happened here yesterday.  The bride and groom were incorporating candlelight in significant ways in their wedding and reception, and not being liturgical scholars, I suggested to them in their planning that they are actually living out the Epiphany themes of a star shining in the night sky, transformation, and miracles.  I shared with them:   

Epiphany is all about God making known the miracle of the birth of the Christ-child.  Epiphany begins with a star shining, allowing wise men to travel to the manger.  Epiphany continues with some of the miracle stories of the Gospels, the baptism of Jesus and the miracle of the water turning to wine at the wedding of Cana.  (Let me know if that miracle happens for you today!)

And Epiphany culminates with the transfiguration of Jesus, the miracle of the dove descending and the voice of the beloved saying "This is my son, with whom I am well-pleased."  

I want to suggest to you today that the season of Epiphany become the narrative of your life together.  The life together begins with light of God and the light of your love shining brightly.  People have come from afar bearing gifts bearing witness to this light they see shining in your lives.  

And now, the two of you become one, and you journey through this life together, finding your path as God has called you.  As you walk that path, your light will shine and spread among those you meet, befriend, and encourage.  And the telos of your being as a couple is that you come to the end of your lives, able to affirm what you so clearly know today, "This is my wife, this is my husband, with whom I am well-pleased." 

Epiphany is a time for us to look up, look past the end of our noses, focus on the moon rather than the finger pointing to the moon lest we miss the heavenly being.  Two of my friends who don't know one another posted the same NY Times article on FB.  The article is new research from social scientists who say that across the board, people reflect back in their life and see the amazing amounts of transformation that happen across a decade.  Yet when they look forward, they fail to anticipate the transformation that is to come.  They underestimate their wonderfulness, the article says, and predict that who they are today, ho-hum and all, will pretty much be constant.  The article is a sign that we've lost the hope "that what we shall be has yet to be revealed."  I wonder if that applies the same to the modern-day denominational church, whose high-times are certainly in the rear-view mirror.  

We will be in high-gear these next few weeks as we practice welcoming the stranger, the person themselves--and the messages they bring--of people and places far removed from the safe enclaves we have built around ourselves.  They will open their treasure chests and give us the gift of stories from the National church, from the downtown Eastside, from Bethlehem, from the issues of Homelessness and Mental Health, from the Anglican Aboriginal community, from Vancouver School of Theology, and even from within ourselves, as we will have an opportunity to connect with one another during a just-plain-fun-get-to-know-one-another church social being organized by Diane Jones for the last Saturday of the month.  

How will those gifts transform us and spark our collective imagination for what this church will become in the next 10 years?  The message is welcoming to everyone.  May we embody that message in this season of light, miracles and transformation.

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.

There Once was Someone who.. November 18, 2012

Message for Children's Sunday - November 18, 2012

"There was once someone who . . . "

Scriptures:  Deuteronomy 6:4-9 and Mark 10:13-16

Opening Prayer
Loving God, may our eyes and hearts be opened to hear your Gospel in fresh ways 
that can both inspire and move us to serve you in new ways.  
And may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to you.  Amen

The passage in Mark is one of the most famous in all of Scripture, Jesus welcoming the children.  The image is seen all over the place, in paintings, sculptures and stain glass, here at St. Andrew's Wesley in the North Trancept.  Next to the crucifixion, and Jesus as the Good Shepherd, it is the most popular subject that artists through the centuries have taken up.  I remember one of my Sunday School classroom's as a child at North Surrey United, it was the United Church Women's / the UCW's lounge.  We would gather around a table with a beautiful lace cloth on it and some industrial strength plastic over top, on the wall next to the table hung a large painting of Jesus surrounded by children and where he held one child's face in his hands looking deeply into their eyes as the child spoke to him.  I remember gazing up at that painting and thinking Jesus must've been a good listener because he listened with his eyes too and then imagined that I was that child . . . 

In the Gospel of Mark, the disciples, despite being with Jesus continuously, seeing what he cared about and hearing the words he spoke, they continued to fail dismally to understand what he was about.  They just could not get with the program.  

And they missed it yet again when they tried preventing the children from coming to Jesus.  In some translations of the Bible they use the word stop, in the King James they use the word, forbid.  However, I love the use of the word hinder in other translations. . . it is such a great word, much more insidious than forbid or stop . . . I was originally going to go with the sermon title, "do not hinder them . . . ." but I was encouraged to go with a more positive, open title.

What did Jesus do when the disciples tried to hinder the children?  As Caleb read "He was indignant."  The Gospel of Mark highlights Jesus' emotions more than the other Gospel writers, Matthew and Luke didn't even describe Jesus as angry, let alone indignant!  

It would have been a tradition in those days to bring small children to a great rabbi so that they could bless them and pray for them.   Unfortunately, Children in those days were very low down in the chain of importance and possibly would have been looked upon as an unnecessary distraction or interruption, not worthy of Jesus' time. 

The Mark passage is universally acclaimed as one of the loveliest stories in the New Testament.  "Let the children come to me," Jesus said.  But the passage in its implications, is one of the most challenging and disturbing because it throws traditional logic and ways of thinking out the window when Jesus said, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.’  

Adults are to be more like children?  Aren't children supposed to act like adults, emulate adults, don't we often measure how good a child is by how adult-like they can be?

This passage is one that we read each time we celebrate the baptism of a child in our church.  Gathered around the font we hear these words and before the act of baptism happens, questions are asked, questions not only of the parents and godparents, but questions of us as the church family for that child.

Question: Do you, the people of St. Andrew’s-Wesley United Church receive these children into the Church, promise your love, support and care to them and their family as they live and grow in Christ?

And we respond by saying . . .We do, by the grace of God.  We do, by the grace of God.

Today on Children's Sunday - a day where churches across the country lift up the needs and celebrate the gifts of children in their own communities and around the world . . . I would like to spend some time remembering the promises that we as a community of faith make to our children and do some wondering . . . .  

I wonder how we may create space for children to deepen their connection to the Holy, to God, helping to remove any barriers in their way 

I wonder how we might endeavour to not hinder children with our own pre-conceived ideas and thoughts enabling them to be the creative and expressive theologians they are.

I wonder how we might live our faith so that children see and know . . .  that we love God with all our heart, all our mind and all our soul.

Many of you know that we offer Godly Play in Church School.  "Godly play" is a term coined by Jerome Berryman to describe an approach to children's spiritual formation that is based on creating a sacred space in which to present the stories of our faith, wonder about them together, and then allow the children open-ended opportunities to engage the story on their own terms.  

The Godly Play Foundation created a reflection titled,  "The Theology of the Child," that I would like to share parts of,  with you now.    

When we think about the theology of childhood, 

we are thinking about something very, very big, and part of a great mystery

We think about our words for something beyond words – like Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer or Father/Mother, Son, Spirit



The mystery of Relationship grounds our efforts to search for what it means to be human; what it might mean to be a Child of God.

Why is it important for us to understand the spiritual life of the child? Of course, it helps us as teachers, as parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles and friends who want to serve the children in our care. But it is also soooo very important to our identity as Christians – because Jesus calls us to become like children. Jesus never told us though how to do that. and I wonder if he meant for us to come close to children and maybe learn to know what they know.

As people of faith we believe that there is a divine imprint written upon every person, every child. 
        
It is not something we can see, like the colour of their hair or eyes, or something we can measure, like their height or weight. We believe, no we know it is there. The divine imprint is written upon the soul, deep within the heart of every person born in this world. 

Sometimes people behave as if children are just empty vessels, (holding up the vase, and showing how it is "empty")

something for us to fill with knowledge and information about God.  (Gesture with one hand as if pouring something in to the vase)

But . . . you know --- they do not come to us empty……….. (putting hand in vase and drawing out the shimmery fabric)

there is the divine spark that’s inside each child and each one of us.  The part that knows God, rather than knows “about” God.

Children come to us with their own spark, and with their own experience of God, that elusive Presence who plays hide and seek, peek a boo with us – that sometimes feels so close, and other times, far and beyond us. 

Children may have been told about the Church God 

the one that people have told them how to think and feel about.

But they have their own experience with the God of power with no name.  If we look and listen with children carefully, we might see some of the wisdom in their original vision of God.

I wonder how we can help children learn that this God of power with no name and the Church God is the same?

Children don’t just want to know about God; they want to know God.  As we grow older, other things crowd out our natural, inborn connection to the sacred.  Our lives fill with all kinds of things. 


Our culture offers us:
Sports, games, endless entertainment, social media, the pursuit of success; the pursuit of stuff; Grades ; Status with peers . . . . 
These all compete for the attention of our children, each and every day. 

All of us, no matter our age, have existential boundaries that frame our lives, limits we can't get around. These boundaries are part of our existence. They are part of what it means to be human. And they are the same whether we are 2 or 22, 52 or 102. 

All of us have to confront the limits of being alone – we come into the world alone, even if we are born with a twin –no one else lives inside our own skin. 

We confront what it means to be free.  At different points in our lives, we run up against the lack, the threat and the joy of freedom. 

We confront the search for meaning – who am I?  How did I get here? What am I supposed to do?  What’s this life really all about?

And we confront the  limit of our mortality . . . . death… how long will my life last, and when and what will the end be like.

What our culture offers is not bad, well not all bad
The problem is that they aren't able to answer the big questions in our lives. 

Since these questions are so big, how can we help children find their way? What is the best way for children to remember the divine imprint on their lives? (touching the shimmery fabric)

What things can we give children to help them with this deep work? One gift we can give children is religious language. Religious language, verbal and non-verbal, is a way to make meaning of these existential limits and a way to connect with the God they know about 

with the God they know  

It’s a religious language of words (lift and place Bible on table) 
and also of gestures  (prayer postion and hallelujah signing)
and objects  (get Christ Candle an place on table)
and space, and time and silence.

Religious language is a way to make these existential concerns visible and tangible so we can work with them.

How can a child get into this stuff, the spirituality of their human condition?


The key ways children do this are through STORY and PLAY – these are their native languages, through which religious language can also become their own.

How can we recognize real play in which this skill might lurk?

Play is voluntary - no one makes you do it (play with a yoyo and then place on the table) 
Play is fun
Play goes its own ways, we follow it, it can't be controlled (feather)
play is done for its own sake - like skimming a stone across the water
Play absorbs us, the creativity in us, it takes concentration (paint brush)

Children play games of “as if” based on what they have seen – as if they are driving a bus as if they are parents or Spiderman or a Jedi Knight 

They also play “what if” games.  Based on what they haven’t seen – what if we could ride a dinosaur to outerspace?   

What if everyone was kind to each other – all the time? What if there was no more war? What if every child male and female could go to school in the world? What if every person had a safe place to call home?

This kind of play is important to us as Christians because – isn’t that what we need to imagine the Kingdom of God?

So Play is children’s work.  and their Godly Play needs our respect.

Another gift we can give children is a safe place. Like an egg contained by its shell, children need us to provide a safe container in which to do this important spiritual work. (holding an egg)

We need to provide a safe enough space for children to feel it is OK to open up to their spiritual needs. It might also include protecting that space from the careless intrusion of adults or treating children as sources of amusement or entertainment or irrelevant (laughing at their responses, disregarding their wonderings, or imagination) undermining the seriousness of what the child and God might be really doing.   A safe place is where difficult or unfinished business can be parked and returned to when the time is right – a place where ritual helps you enter in and leave. 

We can give children the stories of Scripture, the Bible that have sustained people for generations. It can help us to know who we are in the larger story and children may find that they are part of the great family that numbers as many as the grains of sand in the desert and the stars in the sky. 

We can give them community – like the church. 

At its best, it can be a place where we learn to recognize our own authentic selves.


where we continue to work together to help create sacred space for all!  

where we recognize the divine spark / imprint in each one of us!

where we not only talk about our faith but live our faith with children showing them in the ways we care for each other and creation, with our words and our actions!

where we care for parents in their most important role; creating spaces for them for learning, for support, not glaring at them when their child makes a sound!

where we channel the indignation of Jesus ad stand up and speak out, when we see or hear about children's rights being abuse, here in Vancouver or around the world! 

where we value children as part of the present not only the future recognizing that supporting ministry with children is all of our responsibility, and our joy!

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus again and again reminds us of the importance of children, the gifts they bring and their ability to receive the kingdom, the realm of God.

Young Children look to their parents, to the caring adults in their lives for all that they receive.  They depend on their presence, they trust that they will be there when they need them - to listen fully as they wonder, imagine, doubt and question, they rest in the knowledge that they are loved unconditionally and they know that in good times and in tough times they will not be alone but held in arms that welcome and comfort them.

I believe that for those of us no longer children,  we can embrace that same kind of trust, that same kind of dependence, that same knowledge that we too, are not alone, that each one of us, as a child of God, may lean into those arms and rest, and be comforted, be listened to and be blessed . . . for God is our God, God alone.   

There was once someone     (holding the Christ Candle) 

who had such respect, such reverence for what is within the heart of a child, that he became a child himself. When he grew to be a man, he seemed to know who children really were and they seemed to know who he really was. He came close to children, and they came close to him.

And he blessed them.  And He calls us to bless children too. Perhaps then we may catch a glimpse into the very heart of God.   Amen

Jennifer Cunnings