Sermon for March 18 - Addictions

Scripture for this sermon: Ephesians 2:1-10

I remember once going on a day trip to Niagara Falls with my friend Bryce from back in Guelph.  We wandered around for a short while, but it wasn’t long before we found ourselves standing outside the casino.  We looked at each other, checked our wallets and decided to head in.  I only had about forty dollars, I’d never been to a casino before, so I figured it would be ok to lose all my money, and walk out saying I’d done it once in my life.  Forty bucks isn’t too expensive for what I thought would be a few hours of entertainment.

We wandered around, wound up at the roulette table.  And within a few spins of the wheel, we were up.  It was great.  We had it all figured out.  Undoubtedly we would be walking out of there with at least a couple of hundred dollars each.  I didn’t understand how people could lose money, when it was so easy.  Each time we won, it was quite a rush of excitement.  What we didn’t notice was that, those rushes of excitement were further apart than they needed to be for us to keep our winnings.  And soon, I’d say after about only half an hour at the table, we were both broke.

I remember as we walked away thinking to myself: “Boy, I know what I did wrong, and if I just go take out a bit of money, I can get back what I lost.”  Fortunately, I have a good friend in Bryce and he said we should leave even as warning bells were starting to go off in my head.  I can see why they say that the worst thing that can happen to you the first time you go to a casino, is to win.  That thrill is easy to chase.

I never became a compulsive gambler.  But addictions do take a hold of us all in different ways.  For some they may be associated with substances.  Alcohol, narcotics, pharmaceuticals, cigarettes, caffeine, just to name a few.  Some may be associated with behaviors, gambling, sex, pornography, adrenaline inducing activities, eating, even working.  All of these can become addictions.  Though some of these addiction might be socially acceptable, or even socially praised, for the most part we view these as unacceptable.  And any addiction cannot be considered healthy.

Often people with addictions are looked at as a sort of leper.  They are people who are judged for making poor decisions, for not having any self control, for being lazy.  This is why I think addiction is another example of a taboo issue that is never openly discussed.  Instead it is whispered and gossiped about, which truthfully, I think is even more damaging than helpful.

I’m not going to lecture today on the evils of addiction.  We’ve all heard that countless times, we’ve witnessed it, we’ve seen enough after school specials.  I’m not going to tell you how to get rid of an addiction.  I’m not trained in that, though if anyone is interested, I have contact information for groups, and you can feel free to ask me about it in private for yourself or for someone you may know.  All I want to do today is to break the silence.  I want to talk about it in such a way that we are not as afraid to talk about it with one another.

So what is an addiction?

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Simplistically put, an addiction affects the reward part of our brain.  So for example, some substances can cause our brains to release dopamine, one of the chemicals responsible for us feeling good.  The more a substance is used, the more our brains become dependant upon them to release dopamine.  Our brain circuits get damaged as we continually fill our system with addictive substances, requiring more and more of them in order for us to feel good about anything.

Behavioral addictions, like gambling addictions or sexual addictions, similarily affect our brain’s reward system.  The rush of winning a big pot, for example, causes us to feel good.  Our brains release dopamine.  Eventually, our brains become re-wired to associate good feelings with gambling.

With chemicals or behaviors we can become obsessed, we can become compulsive.  Longing for that good feeling, longing for the reward system in our brains to be activated, we seek out those same stimulants to do it.  It gets to the point where it is no longer even a choice, our brains have become re-wired, and this is the dependence.  Sometimes this can happen after one or two experiences, sometimes it might take longer, years even.  This is effected by all sorts of factors.  Certain substances or behaviors are more or less addictive.  Our own genetic predisposition to addiction is also a factor.  Environmental and social factors also influence this.

The cycle gets worse when our compulsive behavior, seeking that high, seeking that good feeling, leads us to do things that make us actually feel worse.  An alcohol binge that goes wrong, losing a lot of money at the casino, feeling ashamed of a sexual encounter.  We want to feel better after them, so tragically we return to our addiction.  Addicts often know that what they are doing is having an awful affect on their lives. 

There isn’t reason to it.  There isn’t logic to it.  Don’t try to find it. The natural human desire for pleasure, or to end pain, believe me, holds a greater sway over any of us than logic does.  Many people who are under the sway of an addiction will express a desire to change.  Guilt becomes a factor, and not necessarily a positive one. Someone trying to quit drinking may feel guilty if they fail.  The logic becomes, “I feel awful about drinking.  Let me have a drink to feel better.”

Once the brain has re-wired itself, it is no longer a matter of choice, no longer a matter of will power or strength.  And often, people do not realize the negative effect certain influences can have on their lives until this re-wiring has occurred.  The cycle of addiction is truly one of powerlessness.  And it is heart breaking.  Heartbreaking because of how helpless the addict is, and heartbreaking because of all those who are influenced by it.  Addiction leads to great wounds in life, and not just to the lives of the addicts.  Addiction can greatly wound families, friends, and communities.

I’ve been reading the Big Blue Book.  This is the book put out by Alcoholics Anonymous.  It is a good thing to read.  I’d recommend it to anyone.  It is full of stories about alcoholics, about their lives under the influence of alcoholism.  This powerlessness is shown again and again. People who know what they are doing is hurting them, is hurting those they care about, but who cannot stop.

I think our scripture reading for today responds to that powerlessness.  Verses 8 and 9, “For by grace have you been save through faith, and this is not of your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast.” 

Here the author seems to be speaking directly to our society’s view that people just need to get over their addiction.  People just need to develop more will-power, people just need to be stronger.  The author seems to be saying, no amount of strength in you, no amount work done by you, is going to move you into holy relationship with God, with ourselves, with the people around us.  Moving into a state of grace is not accomplished by us. 

And of course we don’t like that in our world.  We live in a pious protestant society.  Live and act proper, and you’ll get what is yours.  Anyone who is having a rough go of it, deserves it, and anyone who is successful deserves it too.  The reason I am not an addict is because I am a better person.  The reason I am successful is because I am better.  I have done all the right stuff, and someone else has done the wrong stuff.  It is their fault, they got where they are. 

Of course we think this way.  It is logical.  It helps us maintain a semblance of control, it helps us see some sort of order to the world around us.  If I were not entirely in control of my own fate, that would be a terrifying prospect.  And since I am entirely in control of my fate, everyone else must be as well.  This is the American Dream.  The idea that everyone is in control of their own destiny, and everyone gets what they deserve. 

Unfortunately, this is counter to the passage that we just read today from Ephesians.  The author is very clear that we are not in control.  That the works we do in this world have no influence on God whatsoever.  No one is more loved by God because of the work they do.  No one is loved less by God because of what they do.  We are not in control of grace.  All we can do is surrender to the love that is freely offered to all, regardless of who they are or what they have done.

And when we think about addictions, when we think about the powerlessness that comes against such a disease, what a wonderful message of hope this is.

I was re-reading the 12 steps a few days ago at drama practice and I almost started crying at their beauty.  It is no wonder that Richard Rohr called the 12 steps, the greatest addition to spirituality that has come out of North America. 

Read the steps

The steps all carry this message of profound grace and surrender of control.  Perhaps this is why 12 step programs have an above average rate of success in helping people get over addictions.  They admit to that same biblical truth that we are not entirely in control of our own salvation.  That control is in the hands of a power greater than ourselves.  As Christians we believe this power to be the one who loves us, who cradles us, who cares for us, and who longs for the best for each and every one of us.  Maybe this is why many of the recovered addicts I have met and spoken with seem to have a deep understanding grace.

Perhaps the 12 steps can teach all of us a lesson, not just those of us who have struggled with addiction, but all of us who have made mistakes.  All of us who long for relationship with God, with one another.  Perhaps the 12 steps can remind us, that none of us have control over our salvation.  These are not about making us better, instead they are about re-creating relationships.  I would encourage everyone to take a look at these steps, and see how they can transform all of our lives.

Sermon for February 26, 2012 - Lenten Wilderness and Taboo

The scripture reading for this Sermon is: Mark 1:9-15

My family has a cottage on Georgian Bay in Ontario.  I remember as a child growing up, we would spend a lot of time up there over the summers.  Heading up for weekends, and the occasional full week.  I don’t know if I ever told my parents, but I always got a bit scared about going up to the cottage.  Even though it was well constructed, it had electricity and running water, I always felt exposed up there.  As I recall it, I would get nightmares far more regularly at the family cottage.

I had a similar feeling when I moved out to Strathclair.  The utter lack of people, made me feel very exposed, very vulnerable.  I can’t explain it.  It was not overwhelming by any means, but it was certainly there, in the back of my mind, a constant nagging anxiety.  I have been told by many people here that they get a similar feeling when they go into cities, a different sort of vulnerability, but a vulnerability none the less.  Or perhaps it is that same feeling I have often heard expressed by prairie folk about mountains.  It’s not a hatred, but a discomfort that grows the more time is spent hemmed in by the enormity of their reach.

Wilderness can have many different images.  I think depending on where you were born, the word “wilderness” will call to mind many different scenes.  For us in Canada, I think wilderness might best be interpreted by the forest.  This could be imagined as the Canadian Shield, with the massive rocky outcrops, or possibly the Old Coastal Forests of British Columbia.  The wild growth of trees, the mess of shrubs, the unseen noises which resonate throughout the woods. I find in the woods, there is that sense that something just beyond my control is at play in the wilderness. 

Other areas of the world probably perceive of wilderness entirely differently.  I would imagine in northern Canada, the tundra evokes similar feelings.  Perhaps those who are familiar with the jungle might express similar feelings of powerlessness.  Mountain ranges, Savannah, wild ocean waves all could carry with them those fears and trepidations.  For the Jews living in the Promised Land, the wilderness was often imagined as the desert.

In the desert where a storm of sand can whip up out of nothing, where you can suddenly find yourself without water; in a forest, where every tree could look like the last one, where every snap of twig signals something that is far worse in our imagination than what is beyond our sights; in the ocean where waves can capsize boats, where hurricanes are born and raised; in mountains where avalanches are possibilities, where people get lost for days, not knowing what even to eat; these are the places of wilderness in our world.  These are the places where we are at some level, afraid to go.  These are the places where, when we truly immerse ourselves in them, we lose even the illusion of control.  These are the places where we feel exposed, where we feel vulnerable, where we feel powerless.

We encounter these in our daily lives.  All of us have taken steps into the wilderness.  Whether it is dealing with a death that has greatly affected us, whether it is extreme financial hardships, whether it is the end of a relationship, or perhaps some great emotional turmoil we all have gone there.  These are places no one wants to go to, but where we end up through the natural course of life. These times can be isolating, they can be terrifying.  They fully embody that sense of powerlessness, that loss of control.

Often people end up in a wilderness that is dark and almost incomprehensible to anyone who has not gone there.  Drug addiction, or any addiction for that matter, violence and abuse, depression and mental illness.  These are some of the wildernesses that people walk through regularly, and yet where many of us are afraid to go.  And I don’t mean to participate, I mean we’re very often afraid to even talk about them.

One of our past Moderators in the United Church of Canada, David Giuliano, uses the image of the wilderness guide in his understanding of ministry.  As a protestant denomination, I think this goes beyond the calling of those who are simply in ordered ministry.  As members of the priesthood of all believers, in many ways, it is the call of all Christians to be willing to travel to those places where others might be afraid to go.  To meet people there, and to walk with them through that wilderness.

I like to think of the desert surrounding the Promised Land as a character in and of itself in our scriptures, in our stories of faith, in the history of salvation we read about in the Old and New Testaments.  It is through the desert that the Hebrews wandered for forty years, before being forged into a nation.  It was into the desert that Elijah ran, and there that he encountered God in a whisper.  It was in the desert where Ezekiel had his vision of bones growing flesh and being filled with the breath and life of God.  It was in the desert that David had compassion on his enemy, Saul who was trying to kill him.  The desert resonates throughout the book of the Psalms and the various prophets.  And in the New Testament, it is to the desert that John the Baptist calls us to transform.  And as in today’s reading, it is in the desert where Jesus encounters the devil and comes away prepared for his ministry, speaking of the kingdom of God.

I love that biblical metaphor of wilderness.  Maybe that’s why I preach on it regularly.  It is in the wilderness of our lives that we long for comfort.  It is in the wilderness of our lives where we long to know the Divine Love.  It is in the wilderness of our lives where we long to feel held by God. 

In the bible, the wilderness is often an agent of transformation. The wilderness transforms, the wilderness changes.  The wilderness creates.  To say that we are wilderness guides means that we are willing go to the wilderness, and show that God is present even there.  To go to the wilderness and say, even in this dark and painful place, you are not alone.  To go to the wilderness and walk with people helping them to grow within it, to become remade in God’s image.

I remember as a kid, I went white water rafting in Nepal.  It was a terrifying experience.  There were times when I was very scared.  But I certainly remember the feeling I got when I was done.  A sense of accomplishment, a sense that I had gotten through it.  I was sad it was over by the time our few days were done.  I have a picture at home of me in my life jacket, with a puffed out chest in a very manly and triumphant pose.  A gawky awkward, kind of doofy teenager.  And standing beside me was our guide, Hamish.  Chest just as triumphantly puffed out.  He got us through.  Sometimes he had to yell, sometimes he had to take control, sometimes he would sit back and let us do the work.  He knew the river, he knew the way the water worked, he knew the rocks and the undercurrent.  He knew all that because he had been there, he had been down that river, or other rivers, and he was willing to go there again with all of us. 

I think that is what it means to be a wilderness guide.  The church, a mish mash collection of all sorts of people, all of us with our different experiences.  All of us with our struggles in the wilderness.  Subsequently, all of us with our collected wisdom.  Imagine that church being willing to go to the wilderness with others.  To help them get through.  To tell them they are not alone.  To become the Body of Christ.  To show that God is present even in the midst of such struggle.

A note of caution; I am not by any means saying that we need to have certain wilderness experiences to develop our relationship with God.  We should not all go out and get an addiction of some kind just so we can try to meet God.  We should not become abusive or allow abuse to continue simply to meet the Holy One.  We should not be hoping for death, or for pain.  They are going to happen to us, we don’t need to go looking for them.  What I am saying, is that even those dark places, those places where we are vulnerable, where we are out of control, those places of wilderness in our lives, can be redeemed by God.  They can be wielded by the Holy One to create something new.

Over the course of Lent we’re going to explore a few different taboo subjects.  Subjects that may make us uncomfortable; subjects that we don’t talk about often enough in church; subjects that perhaps deserve to be explored.  These are wilderness subjects.  They happen across the world, and they happen here within our communities.  And for those who are experiencing them they are incredibly painful.

So here is what the next few weeks will look like.  After I’m back from my study leave we’re going to explore four different subjects through the lens of what I see as Christian faith.  That will get us up to Easter, and then throughout Easter and Pentecost, we’ll explore a few others, but on less of a rigid schedule.

Some of the issues we’ll explore are domestic violence and abuse, addictions, depression and mental illness, and finally, on Passion Sunday we’ll look at sex and sexuality.  Just a heads up, that last one will not be a how-to-guide, if you need tips and pointers I’m sure you can get those from the community centre or Dora’s.  Though I have to confess, I find it tragically funny when religions try to dictate proper technique.  You won’t get that from me, mostly due to ignorance on my part. But also because there are far more interesting things to talk about when it comes to God, Christ, and sex.  After that, if anyone has other subjects they’d like to talk about, feel free to let me know.

My intent is not to condemn, my intent is not to promote.  All I hope to do, is to show that even in the midst of the unmentioned, in the midst of such taboo, in the midst of suffering, in the midst of tragedy, and in the midst of ecstasy, God is there.  It is those very wilderness aspects of our lives that can inform and develop our relationship with God. My prayer is that just by talking about these issues shows that we are willing to at least start the journey into the wilderness. 

Jesus begins his ministry, his mission of redemption by heading out into the desert.  I think it is important for us as the Body of Christ to continue that mission and follow him there.

Sermon For January 29, 2012 - What's in a name?

Scripture Readings for this sermon: Mark 1:21-28

I remember once I got into an argument with my dad.  It was a stupid argument, over nothing really.  It was about which is better, soccer or hockey.  And it got so heated, there was yelling and everything.  And to be honest with you, I don’t even care that much.  I like hockey well enough, but not that much.  I’ll watch it if it is on, but since I got rid of cable, I find myself caring progressively less and less.  I’ll periodically check the scores and standings, but beyond that, meh.  Maybe that’s because I’m a Leaf fan.  I don’t know why what he was saying was pissing me off, but it was.  And I argued.

And suddenly, I said to myself, “Oh!  I’m angry!”  As if I was caught by surprise. I was arguing so heatedly over something that was absolutely meaningless. I had become irrational, I was yelling.  I had to say to my dad, “I need to end this right now.  I can’t argue anymore.”  It was ridiculous.  But I didn’t realize how ridiculous I was being, until I saw and said to myself, “Oh, I’m angry.”  Anger had taken control of me, and whisked me away.

In our scripture reading for today we read the first story in Mark about an exorcism, about casting out a spirit that had taken control of man.  Jesus is teaching in the synagogue, when a man, possessed by an unclean spirit, approaches him.  Such a man would likely not have been welcome in the synagogue, or the town for that matter.  He was unclean, and very likely there would have been fear of him, or of being infected by him.  Jesus, however, is unwilling to allow this man to be cast aside to the margins.  Rather than sending the man away, the way the rest of the world would have and probably did, Jesus heals him.  People are in awe of this power, and quickly, word begins to spread beyond the town about this man, this teacher, this healer.

Something really surprising happens in this story that today’s readers may not catch.  The words from the man with the unclean spirit carry an extra element of danger that we might not pick up on.  “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us?” the man cries out, “I know who you are, the Holy One of God!”  Whatever is possessing the man, whatever controls his body, knows exactly who it is confronting, and the unclean spirit names him.  “Jesus of Nazareth” it says, “I know who you are, the Holy One of God!”

During the time of Jesus, it was believed that knowing the true name of someone gave you power over them.  The unclean spirit that is controlling the man knows the name of Jesus.  It is so obvious to the unclean spirit who it is facing, it recognizes Christ instantly and clearly states it. 

And it has absolutely no effect. 

This is noted a few times in Mark.  Immediately after this story, it describes Jesus casting out demons that he would not let speak because “the knew him.”  Whether this is to protect his identity from the public is unclear.  In fact this secrecy is another common theme of Mark, Jesus seems determined not to let too many people know he is the Messiah.  But again, in chapter five of Mark, a demon once again states Jesus’ name and identity, and it holds no power over him.  But when Jesus demands the name of the demon, it immediately speaks, saying “I am Legion” and Jesus casts it out.

Knowing and naming those demons, knowing and naming the spirits, knowing and naming what dwells within is a tremendously powerful tool.  And in this story, we see Christ embody his authority, calling those demons, calling those unclean spirits out into the light.  Though he is known by whatever dwells within, though they have seen into his very soul, his very being, they have no power over him.  And when they try to control him, he simply brings them out into the light. And everyone is in awe.

There are so many things in this world, that we hide from.  So many things that we never talk about, that we may never even admit to ourselves.  My earlier story was not a criticism of anger.  Anger can be a good thing.  Anger can be an energizing, positive force for change in the world.  Martin Luther King Jr. was angry, and thank God that he was.  Paul said in his letter to the Ephesians, “Be angry, and do not sin.”  There is nothing wrong with anger in itself.  The danger comes when it goes unrecognized.  When we do not know its name is when it has power over us.

This goes for so many of our emotions.  Fear is another big one that can control us if we do not know its presence.  Fear in itself need not be a bad thing.  If there is a tiger running at me, fear is a good thing.  Not having fear at that moment is stupid.  But fear can also creep into our very being and take control of all things.  I have to watch myself, I have a fear of conflict, and so I need to be very conscious of checking myself, that in certain situations it is not that fear driving me.  We all have fears that go unknown and unnamed, and it is then that they become dangerous.

This goes beyond simple emotions.  Our desires as well can be viewed the same way.  What about sexual attraction or romantic desire?  Are those bad things?  Of course not!  They’re awesome.  One should not feel bad about being attracted to someone.  We can’t pick and choose who we think is sexy.  It just happens. If we see it, if we admit it to ourselves we can take appropriate measures, we can say to ourselves “Uh oh, better be careful around her, or him.”  Or we can say to ourselves, “Yeah! This is a good thing, and I’m pretty happy about it.”  It is when we cannot admit it to ourselves, when we cannot name it, when we bury it because for some reason we feel it is wrong; it is then that we begin to cross boundaries that need to be checked.  The desire controls and corrupts from the inside.

Needs become addictions when they go unnamed.  There is a reason that someone must admit they have a problem before an addiction can be overcome.  They have to name it, name that demon and call it into the light.

Even at a social level these demons take effect.  We call them taboos.  Those topics that are so difficult to bring up, so they remain hushed whispers.  I’ve had it said to me by a number of different people that at the funeral on Thursday, when I first said the word “suicide” there was an inaudible intake of breath.  It was the elephant in the room, the unspoken word, the unnamed presence.  Once it was named however, it lost all its power. 

We need to be talking about these things.  Especially in church.  This should be a place where it is safe to talk about those taboo issues, and yet ironically throughout history we have been the purveyor silence.  We should be talking about suicide, we should be talking about mental illness, depression, addiction and alcoholism.  They should not be whispered topics of conversation we say under our breath.  We should be talking about domestic violence and abuse because it happens.  In this community, I promise you it happens.  Probably by someone you know and love to someone you know and love.  We should be talking about sex, and not just in the old churchy way about why it can be dangerous, but also about why it can be awesome.  There, if that doesn’t get you coming to church anticipating that sermon, I don’t what will.

This is the power of Christ, to bring things out into the light.  This is the authority of Jesus, he didn’t cast off all those taboos, he dwelt among them, casting love and compassion onto all of them.  We are an incarnational faith, we believe God existed and continues to exist here in the world.  My appreciation of this has grown tremendously over the last little while.  If God is in this world, then that is where the Church should be.  If Christ cast light upon, taught to embrace, and named all those powers which take control of us, then so should the church.  Because if not even the church can have those conversations in healthy, life giving ways, then who can?