Sermon for February 19, 2012 - Pilgrimage and the Way

Scripture Reading for this sermon is: Mark 9:2-9

Christianity has gotten pretty easy.  It requires only an hour of our time on Sunday morning.  You just need to show up once to get baptized.  It doesn’t really demand too much of us.  Just believe a few things that don’t have too much of a bearing on our lives.  And very often those things that we are asked to believe will change depending on our life and politics.  We have misinterpreted what it means to be inclusive.  Where inclusivity should mean, if you want to join us all are welcome regardless of race, gender, orientation, or ability; we have used it to become a fast food drive thru with an “order what you want “ mentality.  These are just a few of the ways that Christianity has gotten easier.  It fits nicely into our culture of ease.  We want spirituality, to experience relationship with God, right now with minimal effort on our part. 

Wouldn’t that be nice?

In our scripture reading for today, we read about the Transfiguration of Jesus.  It is the story of Jesus up on a mountain, conversing with Elijah and Moses.  While he is there, he seems to undergo a radical change in front of his inner circle who have climbed the mountain with him.  A cloud descends upon the mountain, the voice of God rings out, “This is my Beloved Son!  Listen to him!”

As I reflected on this story, I read something proposed by the theologian Helmut Thielicke that the transfiguration event does not happen to Jesus, rather it happens to the disciples instead.  This story is not about Jesus, he remains as always the incarnation.  This story is about the experience of the disciples. Up on the mountain, it was something inside of them that changed.  They were shaken, they were rattled, and they saw Jesus in his fullness.  They experienced it only for a moment, but even in that moment, Peter knew he wanted it to last longer.

It is no coincidence that this happened up on a mountain.  Throughout the history of human myth and religion, mountains have become symbolic as seats and homes of the divine, where people encounter the holy.  In Judaism, Moses encountered God and received the Law on Mount Sinai.  In Greek Myth, it was Mount Olympus that was the home of the gods.  In Hinduism there is Mount Meru, the seat of Brahma, and the centre of all things.  Mount Kailash in Tibet is another Holy site for Hinduism, as well as for Jainism and Buddhism.  Mount Kailash is so holy, in fact, that it has never been climbed.  And in Islam, it is in the mountains outside of Mecca, where Muhammed received the revelations from God that would become the Koran.

Mountains reach up to the very heavens, and to ancient people it only makes sense that these would be the seats of heavenly beings.  Trying to climb these vast and mighty peaks would have been daunting, a rare occurrence if it ever even happened.

Even today, they are not climbed half heartedly.  People die every year on the great peaks.  And getting within a stone’s throw of the summits does not guarantee reaching them.  Mountains are intimidating, though awe-inspiring.  They are terrifying while beautiful.  But it was when these three disciples climbed one, Peter, James, and John, that they encountered something marvelous, something inexplicable.  It was through this unknowably difficult journey up the mountain that they experienced God.  This was their pilgrimage.

And that’s the way that Christianity should be.  It should be difficult, because it is difficult. 

What do you know about the practice of pilgrimage?

The practice of pilgrimage has been a part of religious custom since long before Christianity. It is the practice of going on a long journey to some far off destination.  There is the Hajj, the pillar of Islam that calls for Muslims to journey to Mecca at least once in their life if they are able. Mount Kailash is in one of the most isolated areas of the already isolated Tibet, where Hindus and Buddhists make a pilgrimage to.  In medieval times, Christian pilgrimages were common, venturing to the Holy Land, or to a relic site was often considered an act of penance.

Pilgrimages are difficult.  It is in their very challange that they are transformative.  If I just had to cross the street to get to the Santiago Cathedral, El Camino, that famous pilgrimage through Spain, would not be a pilgrimage at all.  It would not have any effect on me whatsoever.  If I could just get in my car and drive past Mecca as I look out my window, how would that effect me?  My pilgrimage will cost me something.  My pilgrimage will not be easy.  It is trial.

This is wisdom that we all know.  Certainly for myself, as I look back at my most trying times, those are the times that forged me.  This past year, though very difficult on a personal level, has greatly effected and strengthened my faith; though I may not always have said that as I went through it.  Anyone who has been through a 12 steps program and met with some success will tell you that it is not easy, but out of it they were transformed.  We are not made, we are not transformed in times of relative ease and abundance.  We are created out of the difficult.  I’m a big Calvin and Hobbes fan, and I always love how every time Calvin goes through something that is tough, his dad shouts out that he is building character.  There is truth to this.

This is the pilgrimage.  This is the journey up the mountain by the disciples.  This is exactly what Christianity should be.  This is how we should be looking at our faith.  As a pilgrimage. 

Christianity must reflect that fundamental truth of life, that out of struggle comes growth, out of fire comes steel, out of death comes resurrection.  That is the great pilgrimage of life that is reflected in our faith.

Christianity should not become a faith that says life is tickity boo.  Any time we try to make our faith easier on people, we are re-enforcing the lie that everything can and should be easy.  We are nodding our heads along with the culture, which tries to sell us that garbage.  And which, we all want to agree with, which we all want to believe for obvious reasons.  But deep down inside, we know it is not true.  We know it is not true because all of us have experienced trial and tribulation.  All of us have experienced suffering and pain. 

And so, if we want our faith to be true, if we want our faith to be deep, and transformative, we need to struggle for it.  It must honestly reflect that reality of life, otherwise it loses all credibility.  It must mimic the trial, the challenge of life, and all the while say to us God is present.  The incarnation exists even in times of difficulty, and it will transform us to new life.  Christianity must challenge us, it must call us to live that eternal cycle of life, death, and new life, resurrection.

For the month of February, our book club is reading Karen Armstrong’s The Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life.  Since selecting this book, I have had a number of people come up to me and tell me how difficult it is.  More than that, some of the steps that she says are a part of the journey to becoming more compassionate are tough.  Certainly the last step, Love Your Enemies, that same commandment from scripture, is not easy.  I have had numerous people express to me how intimidating this book is, and how intimidating the work she asks of us is.  And to all of that, I say, Good.  It is not an easy book, and the path she invites us to, is not an easy path.  It is hard.  But I find it tremendously praise worthy that everyone who has come to me and said, “this book is hard” or “I really am struggling with this idea”, has also said to me “but I really want to read it.”  What I hear when this is said “I am willing to do the hard stuff… I want to walk the path towards compassion.”  That’s a good thing.  This is a wonderful example of what Christian faith looks like.  Pushing our boundaries, experiencing ideas that may make us uncomfortable and trusting that we will somehow experience God along the way.

And so let us abandon the idea that religion is simply a set of beliefs someone has.  Instead let us see it as a journey.  Christianity is the path we tread, it is the climb up the mountain, it is the pilgrimage we take throughout our whole lives.  One of the earliest names for Christians was “People of the Way”.  It wasn’t “People who believe certain things”.  It was people of the Way.  And as we find out in our Gospel reading, for Christians, that Way, that holy journey, that walk up the mountain, is called Jesus, the Beloved of God, who God tells us to listen to.  God doesn’t say, “Believe this about Jesus”, God says “listen to him.”  Even when the bible uses the term “believe” a more accurate interpretation would be “trust”.  Listen to Jesus, trust in his way, follow him.  As Christians Jesus is our path of pilgrimage.

And it is hard.  It wouldn’t be true, it wouldn’t be relevant in the world, it wouldn’t be worth anything if it wasn’t.  Christianity is hard.  It is our long climb up the mountain.  And yet, it is through climbing the mountain that our eyes are changed to see the glory and wonder of the incarnate God.

Sermon for October 30, 2011 - Journey of Faith

The Scripture for this Sermon was Joshua 3:7-17

Once upon a time, I used to run somewhat regularly.  I was a member of my high school cross country team.  I don’t actually remember us doing very well.  I remember us playing a lot of ultimate Frisbee.  And I also remember one year pulling in the last five spots at an All-Colony track meet.  Still throughout my life, barring a time here or there, I have been a somewhat consistent runner.

Well, I didn’t run at all this summer.  I began in the spring with high hopes.  I quickly rebelled against those high hopes, finding a number of excuses which threw off my discipline and any inertia I might have gathered.  That being said, once late summer came around I decided I really wanted to run 5k again.  That’s about 30 minutes of running.  Nothing too significant, but something I would still have to commit to.  So I began very slowly.  I used a program I found online that I put on my phone.  Its called the 5k101 training program.  It is eight weeks, essentially going from the couch to running for 30 minutes straight.

The first week it had me running for two minutes, and walking for three, then repeating that set for a total of 8 minutes of running.  The first time I tried it, I was beat and realized how out of shape I had become.  I had to do that three times that week.  The next week, the running went up a little bit, and the walking down a little bit.  I think it was two and a half minutes of running, followed by two and a half minutes of walking, then repeating over until I had run for a total of ten minutes.  I’m on week five now.  The sets are eight minutes of running, and two minutes of walking for a total of twenty four minutes running.  And it feels really good.  I’m not there yet, but I can see myself getting there.

The most difficult thing about it, is developing a sense of patience.  Being patient with myself.  Accepting that I’m not there yet, that I can’t run for 30 minutes straight anymore.  Sometimes it is hard not to rush the whole program.  Instead I have to learn to let my body, let my legs and my lungs, let my heart, as well as my mind get used to the whole process.  It may surprise some of you (or not) that patience with myself does not come easily to me.

Has anyone heard the Chinese proverb, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”?  Can anyone think of something else that requires time and energy to accomplish?  Can anyone think of a journey of a thousand miles that starts with a single step?

In our scripture reading for today, we encounter the Israelites entering into the Promised Land.  That place which had been promised to their ancestors hundreds of years earlier.  But this is not the same group of Israelites that first went into the desert out of slavery in Egypt.  Though they were initially excited about leaving Egypt, they quickly grew disgruntled.  They argued with God, with Moses, and with themselves.  They complained about hunger, about thirst, worshiped a golden calf, doubted God’s promise.  And so they wandered in the desert for forty years.

Forty years later, we find the Israelites a completely different group of people.  They have become something else.  They have been changed.  This next generation of Israelites no longer fears entering the Promised Land.  Aware that God is among them, this is a spiritually transformed group.  And so they cross the River Jordan into the Promised Land in much the same way that they crossed the Red Sea.  Only this time they are not driven by fear, but instead by hope. 

This is not a small trickle of a river, this is a river at full flood, and we in Manitoba have seen what a flooding river looks like.  Imagine crossing the Assiniboine or the Souris this past spring, knowing that the only thing stopping you from being swept away was the presence of God.

Where did this trust come from?  Where did this faith in God come from?  How were the Israelites transformed so dramatically?  It came from forty years of wandering through the desert.  Forty years of living in the wilderness.  It did not come over night.  The faith of the Israelites was hard fought.  It was not a momentary, “Hey, we trust in God.  Look at us.”  It takes a long time for that relationship to develop.

And this is a wonderful model for our lives as Christians.  Our lives are a pilgrimage, a pilgrimage always moving towards that promised land of deeper relationship with the holy.  Our lives are a pilgrimage seeking wholeness, moving through our own brokenness.

And here’s the best part!

For me, the joy of running doesn’t come from hitting that end goal.  The joy of running comes from simply doing it.  I feel good about myself when I’m running, when I get out and enjoy the day, when I feel my own heart beat and spend time concentrating on my very breath.  I didn’t pick up the guitar in order to become a rock star (although lets face, you all heard my rendition of Tom Dooley, I’m pretty sure I will become one), I picked it up because I think it will be fun just to mess around with it.

As I was cleaning up some files in my study, I found a scrap piece of paper with something written on it.  Based on the papers around it, I think it was Shane Claiborne who said it at our Conference Annual Meeting last year, but I’ll stand to be corrected.  “Christians are so often worried about life after death, the we never even think about life before death!”  i.e. We are so worried about the destination, about the end goal, that we never even notice the pilgrimage itself.  How does our faith affect our lives here and now?

Jesus said, the kingdom of heaven is at hand.  It’s not tomorrow, its not a week from now, its not December 21, 2012.  It’s here!  It’s now!  He’s not talking about the afterlife, he’s talking about this world!  He’s talking about today!

There is a wonderful story I once heard a minister tell.  It was about a teacher living in Africa.  One day one of her students, gave her a beautiful gift, a certain kind of shell that could only be find at a beach miles away.  The student, who had no mode of transportation, had walked out there, found the shell and brought it back.  The teacher said, “That’s such a long journey for a gift!”  The student’s reply was “But don’t you see?  The journey is the gift!”

The Israelites could have wandered through the desert another forty years and still would have been in their promised land because they realized that through all that wandering, they remained in the presence of God.  It is the pilgrimage of our lives themselves that are holiness, not some end call that we are constantly striving for.

It doesn’t happen overnight, we never get to that final end goal we think we long for.  Transformation, relationship with God, encountering the holy and embodying Christ is not an on/off switch that we just need to find so we can flick it. And so we must be patient with ourselves.  We must learn throughout our lives that it is the path itself that is the pilgrimage, it is the forty years of wandering that is the promised land, the journey is the gift.  We are pilgrims together, seeking the God who exists within all of our lives and supporting one another in our travels.  In that way, we come to see that God is with us, always and in all ways.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.