Sermon for April 1, 2012 - Sexuality

The Scripture reading for this sermon: Mark 11:1-11 and John 12:12-16

A few years ago I was a leader at a summer youth program.  We brought in guests to talk about all sorts of things, views, opinions, and areas of study.  And I remember we brought in one retired theology professor.  A man who was held in very high esteem, but who, as a retired theology professor, had been stereotyped a certain way in our minds.  He came in wearing a three piece suit, I think it was probably tweed.  With those classic professor leather patches on the elbows.  This professor emeritus also wore a bow tie, and any time I have ever encountered him, he has been wearing a bow tie.  It takes a certain type to wear a bow tie with regularity.  Glasses, hair combed pristinely to the side.  He looked the role of the retired theology professor through and through.

Sitting there, I was trying to get a sense of the feeling within the room.  A bunch of adolescent young men and women, being lead by a bunch of twenty something young men and women.  We were not participating in this program in order to hear some dusty old man talk about whatever he had on his mind, using language that would fly over our heads.  “Ok,” I thought to myself, “an hour and a half of this.  I can get through it.  I just hope the participants can as well.”

Many of the previous speakers had brought in power point slides and interactive opportunities to engage all of us.  Not this man.  He just went straight to the lectern, pulled out a few pieces of paper, straightened them and looked out at the audience whose eyes were already beginning to glaze over.  I even seem to recall him pulling a pocket watch out and placing it down in front of him, so as to be aware when his hour and a half were up.

“I remember when…” was how he started.  I could feel my own brain synapses starting to shut down.  “…I first met my wife.”  Oh God.  “I couldn’t help thinking about how she was very, very sexy.”  And he paused.  Eyes began to perk up, backs began to straighten.  “Oh sure,” he continued, “I fell in love with her eventually, but oh man, she was hot.”  He closed his eyes, his mind pulling up that image he held onto for however many years, a knowing smile crept across his face.  And he had each and every one of us.  A retired theology professor, with glasses, pristeen hair, and a pocket watch, in a three piece tweed suit, had easily gotten the attention of every single person in that room.

Sex.  All the teenage boys, all the teenage girls caught in that awkward phase of trying to both hide their feelings and explore them at the same time, were able to just release any tension they were holding back.  Any shame they felt around their curiosity, around their questions was momentarily lifted by that impish smile on his face.  It was wonderful.  And the youth weren’t the only ones who sat up and listened intently.  I was just as captivated as them.

It is odd that we don’t talk about sexuality.  Without it, none of us would even be here.  It can create marvelous dreamscapes of joy, of excitement; it can also be the source of nightmares, ruining lives.  It can create that wonderful sense of giddiness, of wanting to dance and sing with joy when we are besotted, while at the same time wanting to throw up with anxiety.  It is woven into our very bodies causing our hearts to race, our breath to gasp.  It can seem an unquenchable fire, it can be a source of tremendous energy.  But we don’t talk about it in an honest and down to earth way.  Why do we shy away from it, speaking only in jokes and giggles?

When we don’t talk about sexuality, the conversation gets hijacked.  It gets transformed into a discussion of a few dos, and a lot of don’ts.  Or it becomes meaningless, plastered across billboards, magazines, movies, and commercials without a thought beyond marketing simplistic pleasure.  Dom Bede Griffiths once said, “Sex is far too important to eliminate entirely, and it is far to important to do lightly.  The only alternative is to somehow ‘consecrate’ it.”

Imagine yourself as one of the people in Jerusalem.  You have heard about this Jesus figure.  His healings, his words, his message have all reached your ears, it has reached everyone’s ears.  One day, word arrives that he, this figure of story, will be coming into to town.  People are filled with anticipation at the prospect.  They all want to be healed, they all want to see him, to touch him, they all want him to transform the world, to change the way things are.  And sure enough, when he arrives, there is a flurry of excitement.  People flock to the streets.  The excitement builds, and soon people are shouting, they are waving palm branches, and they are crying out.  They cry out, “Hosanna!  Hosanna!”  Which means, “Save!  Save, please!”

These people of Jerusalem, they are longing for wholeness, they want that relationship with God, they want a new relationship with the world around them.  They desire it, they seek it, and they are expressing it in their shouts, they are expressing it in their waving of palm leaves frantically in the streets.  They can feel this longing in their very bodies.  The crowd is swept up in that ecstasy of it all, amid cries and heat and sweat.

That desire which dwells within, is more than just a desire for a physical act.  It is a desire for relationship, it is a desire for wholeness. We need to abandon the idea that sex and sexuality are just about certain acts.  Sure, those can be a part of it, but they don’t need to be.  Sexuality is about longing for something, longing for wholeness, it is about desire, it is about seeking relationship: relationship with one another, relationship with ourselves, and relationship with God.  And it is expressed and experienced in our very bodies.

What better way to describe humanity’s relationship with God, than through language of seeking, through language of longing, through language of desire.  And what better way to experience this than through our bodies.  Relationship with God is not just about our heads, not just about some far away transcendent mystical experience.  Experiencing God is about racing hearts.  Experiencing God is about gasping breaths.

It is bizarre to me that Christianity, has so often taken the stance of hating the body and embracing the spirit, when the focus of our faith is where the spirit and the body meet.  These two are inseparable.  We cannot move our relationship with God away from our bodies.  We cannot separate the love of God from creation.  This is the essence of incarnation.  God loves our bodies so much, that God chooses to have one.  God loves creation so much that God chooses to dwell within it.  This is the sign that is Christ.  God is here.  God is in this world.  God dwells within the body.

A healthy sexuality embraces that idea.  A healthy sexuality sees the wonder of bodies, of our own, and of other people’s and cherishes them as God’s creation.  A healthy sexuality invites us to explore a deeper relationship with ourselves, with others, and with God.  A healthy sexuality sees that longing as a wonderful gift, a gift that invites us to wholeness.

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.