Sermon for Covenanting Service

The Scripture for this sermon was Genesis 9:8-17

A few weeks ago I was sitting in my dining room, and I got a phone call.  It was one of the women in my congregation.  “Tim?  You need to go outside right now, and look up at the sky!”

This was the call I had been waiting for.  I have experienced a lot of new things since I moved out to Manitoba a couple of years ago, but this was it.  For some time I had been announcing at church, “I have never seen the Northern Lights, if you are outside, and you see them, give me a call.  I don’t care what time it is.”

I’d received a call here and a call there, and seen a bar or two in the sky for each of those, but this night it was unbelievable.  Did anyone else see them?  Reds, yellows, and greens, shimmering and waving in a dome covering the whole sky, north south east and west.  This was the night that they could see them all the way down in Texas.

When Rachel told me that one of the themes for this covenanting service would be rainbows, all I could think about was the utter sense of awe and humility that was created within me as I sat out there that night looking up at the sky and seeing the lights.  I know, they’re not rainbows, but that was the image that kept flashing to my mind.

Today we’re gathered here to celebrate a covenant.  But I have to admit while I was writing this sermon I really struggled with a lot of terms and ideas, the whole notion of a covenant confounded me.  Who is the covenant between?  What does it mean to have a ministry?  Whose ministry is it?  What goes on whenever a new minister joins with an established faith community?

I spent a long time pondering over this scripture passage, trying to flush out some ideas on what happens, on what exactly we’re celebrating here today.  Because it has to be more than simply, “Hey, great.  Hamiota got a new minister, that’s awesome.  Rachel got a new job, fantastic.”  What exactly are we marking here?

In our scripture reading for today, all but a remnant has been destroyed by the chaotic flood waters.  That remnant has arrived and touched the earth again.  It is then that God makes a covenant. It’s not just a covenant between God and Noah, its not just a covenant between God and humanity, it’s a covenant between God and the remnant of creation that survived the flood.

This covenant does something.  It transforms this rag-tag bunch of drifters into something new, something wondrous.  It unites them into something that is more than simply the sum of their parts, but rather transforms the rag-tag remnant into the new creation. 

Today we are covenanting with each other.  And when we say that, I don’t think we mean that we’re all making a covenant to each other.  Noah didn’t make a covenant with the animals and the birds.  Instead we are all being bound together as one, while God makes a covenant with us.  God is uniting us into something that is more than just the sum of us.

This is why I like the image of the rainbow as a sign of a covenant.  When we look at a rainbow, do we say to ourselves, “Well, I’ve seen all those colours on their own before, nothing too spectacular about it.” Or is there something more to it? 

When I went outside however many weeks ago, I didn’t just look up and say, “Yeah, yellow, green, red.  I’ve seen them all before on there own.  I’ve seen a few scattered bars and waves in the sky.  This is essentially the same, just bigger.”  Big Whoop.  No, it was something new entirely.

This is the basis of covenant.  It is about creation.  When these three groups come together, Hamiota and Kenton as the local faith communities, Rachel as the minister, Assiniboine Presbytery on behalf of the wider church, something new is created.  Something that has never been seen before, and will never be seen again.  It is marvelous and it is holy.  This is the essence of covenant.  We three groups are no longer a band of rag-tag drifters, but suddenly we are a new creation, we are all part of a new ministry, and it is far more awesome than the sum of the three parts.

Something new and exciting has already happened here.  A new ministry began on November 1.  Today we’re celebrating the covenant that God made with all of us.  I don’t know what to expect, I don’t know what to anticipate, but any time a new ministry is formed we should celebrate the wonder of a new creation, and I for one, am excited by the prospect.  Thanks be to God.

Sermon for November 20, 2011 - Reign of Christ

Reading for this week: Matthew 25:31-46

I’ve only picked up one hitch hiker in my life.  Often I’ll drive past them, and make up some excuse in my mind.  “Oh, I don’t have time to slow down.”  Or, “Oh I’m only going up to Shoal Lake or to Neepawa, that won’t be helpful for them.”  Other times, I’m a little more honest with myself, “Ugh, don’t like the look of that guy!”  I’ve heard all the reasons not to pick them, all the horrible stories that come with hitch hikers, and it scares me.  But after I drive past them.  After I congratulate myself on making a wise and safe decision, I’m often left with a pang of guilt.  “What if that person was my sister or my brother?  What if that person was Jesus?”  And based on our reading for today, in many ways, that person probably was Jesus.

Set scene for “the Messiah is among you”*

It sounds like a familiar story doesn’t it?  How many times have we all lamented the state of the church, of this congregation in particular?  Not a week goes by when I don’t hear about how sad it is that the church is dying, that there doesn’t seem to be much hope, etc. etc.  I don’t mean to belittle that sadness, that fear, that pain.  But we have all heard it, and I’m sure at some point or another we have all said it, or felt it.  Myself included.

Tell the rest of the story

In our Gospel reading for today, Jesus reminds his followers that his presence goes beyond the body.  Christ is present and participating in the world, and we are invited to embrace that.  “When you feed someone who is hungry, you are feeding me.  When you give a drink to someone who is thirsty, you are giving a drink to me.  When you nurture and care for the sick, when you visit the prisoners, you are doing that to me.  All those places, where you may not want to go?  I’m there!”

There is something incredibly powerful and transformative about understanding that Christ is among us. Take a moment and look around the room.  Now start to imagine what that means, to say that Christ is among us.  And I don’t just mean looking at friends and family.  Maybe look at people you have not always gotten along with.  What does it mean to say that we can encounter Christ through them as well?  How does that change our own lives?  Like the monks in the story, how would living as though each and every one of us, offers a chance to experience Christ, change who we are as a church?  How we do things?

And if we understand Christ as being among us, if we understand and hold up that holy belief in incarnation, in the idea that God can and does reside in this world.  What does that say about us as individuals?  The abbot himself asked this question, “could it be me?”  Could we possibly be how others encounter God in the world?  And if I were to say right here and right now, a resounding “Yes!, I promise you that others can encounter God, that others can live some part of the Reign of Christ through you, through each and every one of you”, how does that make you feel about yourself?  Though perhaps you may not deem yourself fit, God does deem you fit to reside somewhere within you, how does that idea make you want to live?

And then looking at the world beyond our doors; this is a world that abounds with opportunities to live and move in, as well as to experience Christ, to know God is among us.  So often we judge others.  We say “Get a job!”  We say “Take a shower!”  We say “Well, you shouldn’t have made a mistake!”  How often do we cut ourselves off from meeting God, from knowing God, from being transformed by God?  How often do we cut ourselves off from the opportunity to embrace God the way we have been embraced?  To nurture and nourish God the way we have been nurtured and nourished?  To comfort and care for God the way we have been comforted and cared for. 

Christ lives within the world!  We are an incarnational faith, a faith that says God is among us.  Our call is to understand that, to accept that, to share that, and to learn to live on this earth, with one another and with ourselves, with that truth being central to our lives every minute of every day.  That is the Reign of Christ.  Thanks be to God, Amen!

*there are numerous versions of this story online

Sermon for November 13, 2011 - Interpretation

Scripture Reading: Matthew 25: 14-30

I have to say, I was very tempted this morning to get up here and preach two short meditations, interpreting today’s parable from the Gospel of Matthew in two entirely different ways.  I would have then walked away and let you rummage through the contents of both sermons, trying to discern for yourselves what felt right, or asking yourselves why I would have done such a thing.

As the two stories that we read today during our scripture readings indicate, this passage is open to some very broad interpretation and understanding.  I’m going to read the New Revised Standard Version of the text, just to give you a base to go from.

Read Matthew 25:14-30

Historically in our Western world, I think this story has been interpreted one way.  Jesus is the landowner, and each member of the church has certain gifts that they are called to use on behalf of the Kingdom of God.  Those who use their gifts well, will receive a great reward.  But those who do not share their gifts, who do not go out and make full use of them, will find themselves condemned.

We can easily look at this from the perspective of the church today.  Though we are anxious about the future, this is not a time to conserve our resources, to circle the wagons and buckle down.  We are called to risk sharing everything that we have with the world around us with tremendous joy in our hearts and hope in our souls.  This call goes out to both individuals and communities.

But the second reading we had today, from the Lectionary Story Bible, seemed to look at this passage entirely differently.  It takes an approach that comes out of Liberation Theology, where the landowner is no longer the benevolent giver of gifts.  The Master is someone who “reaps where he does not sow, and gathers where he does not scatter.”  This is not really a nice description, it sounds like the Master is a thief; someone who scavenges off of those who have done hard work.  Furthermore, the closing message from the Master is that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.  Now this seems to contradict a lot of the stuff that Jesus has said in the Gospels.

As I watch the Occupy Wall Street protests, I wonder what they would think.  Jesus, the man who cleaned out the temple of money changers, suddenly telling a story like this?  There is a wonderful image making the rounds online, with a picture of Jesus waving his whip through the temple, with the caption “the original Occupy Wall Street protestor”. 

This parable does seem a bit out of place.  Is it too much of a stretch to interpret this story as Jesus emphasizing that in a world where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, we will encounter the Kingdom of God among those who are cast out?  Jesus taught that we encounter God with the lepers, the widows, the children, the strangers, and generally with those who have been abandoned by society.

Truthfully, I don’t know what the original author intended.  I have my guesses.  I raise this, because I think in many ways, both interpretations are valid.  They both have their points.  I raise this to show that scripture is open to very wide interpretation, and we must caution ourselves from assuming that we have understood everything correctly; or perhaps more accurately, we must caution ourselves from assuming that there is only one correct way to understand scripture.

Give me any argument and a day, and I imagine I can take this bible home, and come back tomorrow able to convince you of either side of that argument.  Does this make scripture meaningless?  Absolutely not.  Instead what it does is invite us to engage the text, engage the world around us, and engage one another in dialogue that would not have been possible if everything were precisely clean cut.  It takes into account the shear complexity of all things rather than assuming that the world is simply black and white.  It says what matters is the struggles we have in our souls trying to figure these things out.

Now there are many different ideas out there about how to interpret things, like scripture, or books, or any media really.  It is a branch of study called hermeneutics.  People devote their whole lives to it, and I certainly don’t have the opportunity to even scratch the surface here.  But I am always willing to talk about it.

What I’d like you to walk away from this sermon with is this: never let yourself get comfortable with a single interpretation of the bible. Because, I think how we interpret scripture says less about the bible than it does about who we ourselves are.  So, always, always, always, ask questions.  Questions about who wrote it, who it was written to.  Wonder what a specific passage would mean to someone who is in an entirely different context from you, someone of a different race, or gender, or sexual orientation, or just in a different situation.  Learn to encounter the holy within these pages from an entirely different perspective, and you’ll begin to see how vast the holy really is.

I do believe God inspires this library of books (and it is a library, it is not a single book – always remember that).  But not necessarily in the sense that God whispered in someone’s ear while it was being written.  I believe, when we read these texts with our hearts open; when we read these texts being truly honest with ourselves about our presuppositions, fears, and desires; when we read these texts prayerfully and with a hunger, I do believe we can be inspired by God through our readings, we can learn to encounter God in our own lives.  And that is good news.  Thanks be to God, Amen.

Sermon for November 6, 2011 - Resting for the Kingdom

Ask for examples of things that we prepare for.  Ask for examples of how we prepare for them.

In our Gospel reading for today Jesus tells this wonderful little parable about the Kingdom of God.  He describes the Kingdom as a party, a time of joy, or festivity.  It is a celebration.  But layered within this text is a not so subtle warning.  He comes out and says it.  We need to be prepared for the Kingdom.  If we’re not prepared, we might miss out on a wonderful opportunity.

Our role as Christians is to prepare for the Kingdom of God.  The tough part is discerning how we actually do that.  Throughout history the church has offered a number of ideas about how we prepare for the Kingdom.  Some of these ideas are for individuals, like certain sacraments or having a strong pious nature.  Correct action or correct belief.  You need to do this that or the other thing, God will check it off some divine list, and you get your invite.  Some of these ideas were more corporate, envisioning preparing the whole world for the Kingdom.  This could be disastrous, as in the case of the Crusades, or have a nobility to it, as in the Social Gospel movement of the early 20^th century.

How do we prepare ourselves for the Kingdom of Heaven today?

This image that Jesus uses for preparation I think is very helpful in our current world.  He envisions being prepared for the Kingdom as having enough fuel to let our own lights shine.  Think about that for just a minute, Jesus envisions being prepared for the Kingdom of Heaven, as having enough fuel to let our own lights shine.

One of the greatest struggles in our world is finding time.  We all lead such busy lives, running here, running there, doing this and doing that, we have work, hockey, volleyball, curling, events, clubs.  Our days, our evenings, our nights are full.  And it is exhausting.  Many of us have run out of fuel, we just don’t realize it, and so we are not prepared.  We cannot truly let our own light shine because our lights are sputtering at best.  We go many miles a minute, burning our wicks at both ends.

As we ask questions about the future of the church, as we wonder about what direction we are going in, I think one answer is quite clear.  In a world that defines everything in terms of productivity, the church stands alone offering Sabbath.  And I don’t mean Sabbath, as in everyone has to come to church on Sundays, though that can be a part of it.  But I mean the church can offer Sabbath, the church can offer peace, the church can and should offer above all things, holy rest.  In a world that pulls us in so many directions, the church should be a place where people can stop, can pause, can listen to their very souls, can bear witness to their own Inner Light (to steal a Quaker term). 

This is how we will help people prepare for the Kingdom.  Unfortunately, very often, the church becomes a source of even more work, more being overwhelmed, more business to do and structures to maintain.  We are called to break out of that.  To pause and ask ourselves as a community, how are we offering a much needed rest to a world that is over worked and over tired?  How are we offering communion with the Holy to a world that has become detached from itself?

Our world is exhausted, it is run ragged.  Social pressures and systemic demands for productivity often push people to the brink, and we struggle just trying to keep up.  These voices are so loud that we are afraid to let go, afraid to reorient ourselves.  Now more than ever the world needs a voice of calm, a voice of quiet, a voice of rest that says, Stop!  It is time to refuel ourselves.  Our tradition is filled with wonderful spiritual practices that invite us to discipline ourselves into rest and relationship with the Holy. I am not a fan of do-it-yourself spirituality.  But these are practices that I believe can only truly be shared within a community. Practices like Contemplative Prayer, Lectio Divina, Labyrinth walking and pilgrimage, silence, hospitality, fasting or feasting. 

To quote Henry Nouwen, “The challenge is to let go of fear and claim the deeper truth of who I am… When you make space for God in your life and begin to listen to God’s loving voice, you suddenly start to realize perfect love…These spiritual practices and other disciplines remind us that we are the Beloved.”

As we look forward to the future of the church, it is these very questions we need to be asking.  How are we refueling ourselves in a world that tries to push us over the edge?  How are we offering rest to people in a world that is tapping their energy?  How are we prophetically standing against a world that would make so many demands?  How are we inviting people to let their own lights shine in a world that could always be brighter?