February 25 2018 sermon: What Do People Say Today?

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him. Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

(Mark 8:27-38)

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     Several years ago at St. John’s University (which is a Roman Catholic university in New York City) a mischievous but anonymous sage wrote a rather lengthy piece of graffiti on the wall of a building on campus:

“And Jesus said unto the theologians, ‘Who do you say that I am?’ 

They replied, ‘You are the eschatological manifestation of the ground of our being, the kerygma of which we find the ultimate meaning in our interpersonal relationships.’ 

And Jesus said ‘...What?’”

     Count me onside with Jesus here. I confess to some admiration for whoever it was who wrote the thing, because I have to admit that I really don’t understand what it means. But it points out an important truth. Whoever wrote the graffiti, I think, was reflecting the fact that there is indeed a huge amount of interest in Jesus and a lot of ideas about Jesus, and was also trying to say that sometimes the church and its learned leaders make Jesus just so darned complicated. I thought about that and about this piece of graffiti written by an unknown author when I read this eighth chapter of Mark’s Gospel.

     The questions Jesus asked in this passage were simple ones. They led to some tough realities, but the questions were simple. There were two of them. “Who do people say I am?” he asked his disciples. He wanted them to reflect on the world around them, to be observant of how people were responding to this movement that had started to form around Jesus. He wanted them to be listening. And then – more important - “Who do you say that I am?” A challenge! Enough of others – what about you? Maybe “people” didn’t get it yet – but the disciples had been around Jesus from the start of his ministry. What did they think? Who was he? Without becoming too complicated, those questions Jesus asked are still around. Still the world is thinking about Jesus, and still the disciples of Jesus are being asked to proclaim Jesus. There were several things I noticed in this exchange between Jesus and his disciples that seem relevant to today’s world in which there are still a lot of questions and a lot of doubts about Jesus.

     The first thing that occurred to me is that – yes - Jesus expects his disciples to be aware of what’s going on in the world around them, and especially to be aware of what people think about him. We are not to seal our faith withing the walls of a church building. How can you reach people with the message of the gospel if you have no clue what people are thinking about the gospel; if you’re not out there hearing them and engaging with them? That’s one of the reasons that I included the quote from Billy Graham in our bulletin today. Billy Graham died just a few days ago, of course. I had already chosen this quote for today before he died, but it makes it seem somehow more relevant. “Christ belongs to all people. He belongs to the world,” is what Billy Graham once said. And if Christ “belongs to the world,” then we can’t just ignore what the world is saying about him; we have to engage what the world is saying about him. When Jesus asked the question, the answer was “John the Baptist [or] Elijah [or] one of the prophets.” The answers might be different today. Jesus was a good man. Jesus was a great teacher. Jesus was a fine example. Jesus was a prophet is one that would probably still be shared. Some would probably even doubt that Jesus ever really existed. But we do need to have our ear to the ground, so to speak. There’s a lot of interest in Jesus in today’s world, but if we who are disciples of Jesus aren’t paying attention, we’ll have no idea how to connect with that interest and how to turn that interest into faith and commitment.

     But Jesus expects us to do more than just be aware of what other people are saying. He expects us stand up and be counted; to have our own opinion; to know Jesus rather than just be willing to discuss Jesus. For disciples of Jesus, Jesus isn’t a subject for debate or argument. And so Jesus pushed his disciples. “But who do you say that I am?” Disciples of Jesus have to be willing to take a stand. Billy Graham may well have said “Christ belongs to all people. He belongs to the world,” but we as his disciples belong to Christ, so we better have a pretty good idea of how to answer that question. Frankly, in a lot of ways, it’s easier not to answer. It’s easier to hem and haw and try to avoid the issue – but we can’t, because how we answer the question is integral to who we are. This story is told in Matthew and Luke as well as in Mark, and in all three of these Gospels, it’s interesting that this story is roughly in the middle of the Gospel. It’s almost as if this question - “who do you say that I am?” - is the hinge around which the rest of the gospel turns. It’s a challenge to us as much as it was to the twelve. “Who do you say that I am?” And Peter said, “You are the Messiah.” Not being Jewish, my first response might be to answer a little differently. “You are the Lord.” “You are the Saviour.” “You are God in the flesh.” But whatever – as disciples of Jesus we have to take a stand that says that Jesus is more than just a really good guy. And I can understand why that’s tough for a lot of people – even for a lot who think of themselves as disciples.

     The passage goes on to that strange exchange between Peter and Jesus. Confronted by “who do you say that I am?” Peter made a proclamation - “You are the Messiah” - but then Jesus explains what being “the Messiah” would mean – he would suffer and be rejected and be killed, and by the time Jesus got to “rise again” it’s as if Peter had closed his ears to say “Never. I’m not going to let that happen.” And Jesus calls him “Satan.” “Get behind me, Satan.” It’s interesting that Jesus’ response to Peter basically saying that he didn’t want Jesus to suffer and die was to call him “Satan.” It seems a little harsh – but if we can stop thinking of “Satan” as a name and understand the word itself, we find out that it means basically “adversary.” By telling Jesus that he wouldn’t allow this to happen, Peter was getting in the way of Jesus’ mission. “Get behind me, Satan” was a way of saying “Wherever it leads - follow me and don’t oppose me.” And opposing Jesus may not mean actively working against him – it might just mean trying to play it safe. That’s something Jesus never did, and it’s something his disciples are always tempted to do.

     Which brings us to the last part of the passage. Jesus said, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” If we want to be followers of Jesus we have to confront the question: “who do you say that I am?” And if we have the courage to answer it – there’s a sacrifice involved. We have to give of ourselves. Our lives are no longer just ours. They are committed to the service of God, Jesus, gospel – and others. If we – having answered the question – continue to live for ourselves, as if the answer makes no real difference, then in a real sense we’ve gained nothing and we’ve lost everything.

     What do people say today? People say lots of things – and we need to know what’s being said about Jesus. But, really, the more important question is the second question – what about you, Jesus asked, “who do you say that I am?” How we answer, and how we live out the answer, changes our lives.

A Thought For The Week Of February 19, 2018

"But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry." (2 Timothy 4:5) In September of 1998, while I was serving as minister of the Sundridge Pastoral Charge, I had the chance to be involved with a Billy Graham Crusade held in nearby Burks Falls. Well, to be more precise, it was a Crusade organized by the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, but it featured an Associate Evangelist named Ross Rhoads – but many of the BGEA people who came to help run it had worked at various times with Billy Graham himself. I had only been serving in Sundridge for about a year at the time but I was asked by the local ministerial group to take on the position of “Follow Up Chair.” From that vantage point I became very impressed with the organization. I had seen “crusades” on television – because there was a day when Billy Graham was such big news (and when society wasn’t quite so secular) that his crusades were actually broadcast on network television. And I always wondered – what happens to the people who go forward? As Follow Up Chair I found out that every single person who came forward at the Burks Falls Crusade would be given the chance to be linked to a local church. And I was impressed by the ecumenism of the whole thing. The BGEA would only agree to come if there was a wide cross-section of local churches involved. It couldn’t only be one or two, it couldn’t only be the evangelicals. So we had liberal churches, mainline churches, evangelical churches, and charismatic churches involved. All those churches worked together and their members and pastors built relationships with each other. A lot of walls were broken down during the several months that we all partnered on this initiative. We learned that while we may have differed on some significant issues, we all had a basic commitment to following Jesus Christ. And people were, indeed, filtered into local churches. My own church gained a handful of very faithful members as a result. And whether or not new people came into the church, the experience of being involved (I well remember the amazing mass choir made up of singers from all of these diverse churches, of which my own Choir Director was recruited as director) was a blessing to all who participated. It lifted us up, it inspired and encouraged us. It was an experience I have never forgotten, and one that influenced me. Billy Graham died just a few days ago at the age of 99. I did not agree with Billy Graham on a lot of issues. His theology was far too conservative for my tastes, and his interpretation of the Bible far too literalistic. He said hurtful things at times about Jews and the LGBTQ community. He was certainly a product of his times in many ways. He was not perfect – but of course, neither am I, and neither are any of us. And yet, he became a supporter of the Civil Rights movement in the US, and a friend and partner of Martin Luther King, Jr.  He was also certainly ecumenical in his approach and even believed in the possibility of salvation for non-Christians. And, most importantly to me, he was authentic. I always believed that he was doing his work for the sake of Christ and not to enrich or glorify himself. There was no pride or arrogance in him. There was an integrity to him that many “evangelists” today do not, unfortunately, seem to possess. I believe Billy Graham’s legacy is a positive one overall. I am not an evangelist. That is a particular gift of the Holy Spirit that I do not possess. But all of us – individually as Christians and collectively as a church – are called to do the work of evangelism: to reach out with the gospel, to serve as Christ served, to love as Christ loved, and, in the words of an old hymn, to “stand up for Jesus.”

A Thought For The Week Of February 12, 2018

"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?" (Psalm 139:7) Over the last few days, since the horrible school shooting in Florida, I have seen a number of people posting variations on the idea that the shooting happened because God is no longer allowed in schools. I'm not going to take time here to talk about the politics of gun control or even about the specifics about what happened in Parkland. There are other, more appropriate forums for that. I do, however, want to think a bit about the theology behind such statements. What do they say about God? Or, more accurately, what do they say about what the people who post them believe about God? Can God really be removed from schools (or, for that matter, from any place else)? Is God not everywhere? Can we simply tell God that he's not welcome and force God to go away? What a strange understanding of God that is. It seems to suggest that we are more powerful than God; that God is weak and totally dependent on us to be able to do anything. Is this God who depends on us the God that any of us have committed our lives to? The strangest part of it is that those who say such things are usually among those who are the most vocal about their faith and the most in-your-face with those who believe differently than they do. They will profess the power and strength of their God, and then inexplicably say that God is so weak that we can easily remove God whenever we choose. Well, we certainly have the ability to believe or not to believe in God. You might say that's a God-given right. But even if a person chooses not to believe that person hasn't "removed" God from their life. God can be ignored or denied, but not removed. God is always present, always active, and always reaching out. That doesn't mean that everything will always be good, but it does mean that even when things aren't good, God will be there. The psalmist asked "Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?" The question was rhetorical. As you read Psalm 139 you discover that the psalmist gives the answer to his question: there is nowhere we can go to flee from God's presence. There is no place or situation where God is not present. God is always with us. In the Parkland school situation, God was present. People gave their lives protecting children - and is that not the classic example of the agape love Jesus spoke of in John 15:13 - "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." Even in Parkdale, God was present and God's love was revealed in those acts of self-sacrifice. If we can remove God as easily as some people say, then God isn't much of a God. We simply need to look (no matter what is happening) and we will see the presence of God - a God who is everywhere, and a God who will not leave or be driven away. My God is far too strong to be removed by us from schools or anywhere else.

A Thought For The Week Of February 5, 2018

"It was about this time that King Herod arrested some who belonged to the church, intending to persecute them." (Acts 12:1) I was reading Acts 12 a few days ago, and that chapter got me thinking about angels. Angels are all the rage for a lot of people today. Based on what I see and hear I think it's possible that more people believe in angels than in God. I'm not sure why - but that seems true. And the popular image we have of angels makes them seem like the sort of creatures we'd like to hang out with. Cute, a little chubby perhaps, flying around on little wings - a bit cupid-like I might say (especially with Valentines Day not far off.) Scripture, of course, paints a different picture of angels. I'm one of those who gets routinely irritated when I hear Christians (well-meaning, I admit) who say to someone who's just had a loved one die, "God needed another angel," or words like that. I've always assumed that if God really did need another angel God could create another angel without having to take someone's life. Actually, that strikes me as a rather monstrous image of God. I prefer to think of those who die before us simply being taken into God's care. But it does strike me that while we're still alive, God might choose to make us angels. The actual word (άγγελος in Greek) means "messenger." And there are several references to angels in the Scripture which could actually be references to human messengers of God - which, in fact, make more sense as reference to human messengers of God. The angels of the churches in Revelation 2-3 come to mind. But also Acts 12. In this chapter that begins with the mention of Herod persecuting the church, there are three references to "angels." The first is an angel who helps release Peter from prison (v.7), the second is the assumption that when Peter knocks on the door of Mary's house, it can't be Peter but it must be his "angel" (v.15) and the third is a disturbing reference to Herod being "struck down" by an "angel" after giving a speech that angered the people - something that sounds strangely like an assassination. In all three cases, the actions said to be by angels seem to make more sense if these are humans acting (or claiming to be acting) for God rather than spiritual beings. I'm not sure what to do with the third reference - although it is a reminder that "angels" are not the cute and cuddly beings we generally think of them as. I don't actually accept that God "strikes" people down - but I do understand that sometimes people act violently in the name of God. But even if this is out of my comfort zone, this chapter convinced me that the authors of Scripture may have understood "angels" as not just spiritual beings, but very much as human actors playing a role in the unfolding of history as God's plan works toward fruition. So in light of chapters like this, and Revelation 2-3, I'm willing to say that perhaps God does call us at times to be "angels" - messengers, bringing forth a message. Not after we die, but while we're still very much alive, and bringing forth for all to hear the message of love and grace which is the heart of the message of Jesus himself.

February 4 2018 sermon: 24 Hours In The Life Of Jesus

They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching - with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee. As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them. That evening, at sunset, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him. In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

(Mark 1:21-39)

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     I have heard it said many times, “what a difference a day makes!” And it’s true. 24 hours may not seem like much, but any given 24 hour period can make a huge difference. The world can literally change in 24 hours. But most days are probably pretty ordinary. Let’s face it. When we wake up in the morning, most of us have a pretty good idea of what the day is going to hold. Surprises happen – but life is usually pretty predictable. In today’s Gospel passage, Mark rather casually records this account of what seems to be a pretty ordinary 24 hours in Jesus’ life, and we get the impression that this was indeed a business as usual kind of day for Jesus - which suggests that this is perhaps the very kind of day we should be most interested in. Jesus often says to his disciples “follow me,” and usually he means that in the sense of living the way he lived; of following his example. So there may well be some valuable lessons that we can learn about how to spend our days by looking at how Jesus himself spent a typical day. Although, to be honest, there are things that happen in a typical day in Jesus’ life that probably don’t happen very regularly in our own lives. The poet Aldyna Threesya wrote that “each day you live is a day to make a significant difference in your life, or the life of another.” Jesus lived by that principle and I wanted to reflect briefly on a couple of people Jesus encountered on this ordinary day whose lives were changed by him, and then on how those encounters guide and challenge us today.

     Had we gone back just a couple of verses farther we would have discovered that Mark recorded that Jesus “walked along the Sea of Galilee,” or, as one translation puts it, “as he passed by the Sea of Galilee.” The way Mark words it, it’s almost as if Jesus was just passing by – again giving the impression that this was a pretty normal day in his life. Nothing unusual seemed to be happening – as amazing as this ordinary day would turn out to be. And as Jesus “passed by,” he got involved in what was happening around him; he was never oblivious to what was happening around him; he never ignored the needs of those he encountered around him. Maybe that’s our first lesson from this ordinary day: we need to be alert to what we’re passing by; we need to be aware of the needs and the people we see around us; we need to be open to the call of God to serve. Jesus was – and as he walked around and passed by he saw opportunities to serve God by serving others. Mark tells us first that Jesus came across a man who was demon-possessed, and he drove that demon out of the man he encountered with a power that astounded those who witnessed the event, and then from this demon-possessed man, Mark took us to a man’s mother in law – and to be clear I’m drawing no parallels there. After driving out a demon from the man he had encountered, Jesus then encountered Simon’s mother-in-law sick in bed with a fever, and he chose to serve – compassionately and humbly. Unlike the encounter with the demon possessed man, there was no crowd watching, and there weren’t going to be any headlines in the local newspaper. All there would be was relief for Simon’s mother-in-law, and Jesus took the time to make sure that she would be healed and that she would be well.

     But whether he publicly exorcised a demon or privately healed a sick woman, Jesus got noticed. It’s true that few of us are likely to find ourselves either exorcising demons or healing fevers, and it’s easy for us to get caught up in the amazement and excitement over what Jesus did. But I rather think that Mark is telling us that for Jesus these things were normal parts of an ordinary day’s activities. Perhaps the lesson for us is to simply remember that “each day [we] live is a day to make a significant difference in [our lives], or the life of another.” We may not exorcise demons or heal the sick. But maybe we’ll make a difference in someone’s life. And maybe that’s the point. In spite of our sometimes grandiose ideas, maybe we’re not really supposed to change the world. Maybe we’re just supposed to make a difference in people’s lives, one by one as we encounter them. Maybe we can welcome a refugee and save him from a war zone. Maybe we can make sure there’s food for someone who doesn’t know where their next meal is coming from. Maybe we can clothe someone in need. Maybe we can stand for human rights by signing letters for Amnesty International. Maybe we can collect supplies for a hospital in Zimbabwe so that people who need medical care can get it. Maybe we can throw our doors open wide to anyone and everyone, loving them without judging them. In all those ways and so many other ways we do what seem to be for God’s people the most ordinary things – and if we just go about doing ordinary things on ordinary days we will get noticed – especially if we’re doing them for God, because in a lot of ways the ordinary things that we do for God and because of our faith are extraordinary to the world.

     If you live by the principle of radical and unconditional love for all, then you will get noticed. Just yesterday I read an article in the Washington Post about The Reverend Fred Rogers – who’s probably better known to most of you as Mr. Rogers, from “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.” The article talked about the kind of theology Fred Rogers promoted in his children’s TV show, and while it was a show for children the message was an important one for adults as well, and it remains as relevant today as it was in 1962 when “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” first went on the air. As the article said, Fred Rogers

was a pastor on television in the golden era of televangelism, but [while] Christian evangelists were making a name for themselves preaching about the wickedness of mankind, ... Rogers was more interested in his viewers’ inherent value and worth. Evangelists were finding ways the human race didn’t measure up to God’s moral standard. But Rogers said over and over again: ‘You’ve made this day a special day by just your being you. There is no person in the whole world like you, and I like you just the way you are.’

And if that's how Mr. Rogers wanted us to understand ourselves, that's also how he wanted us to treat others. In a book he wrote called "The World According To Mr. Rogers," he said that "love" is "an active noun ... To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now."

     That’s how we make a difference – by loving unconditionally and by serving unselfishly, and by doing both without hesitation. It’s how Jesus made a difference. It’s what both Aldyna Threesya and Fred Rogers were talking about. And it isn’t always easy. Love and service should be among the most ordinary things for God’s people, but when we love unconditionally and when we serve unselfishly and when we do both without hesitation, we’re challenging the normal ways of the world, and there’s a price to be paid for doing ordinary things for God – a price we see reflected on the table this morning. Anyone who thought that loving the way Jesus loved should be welcomed by the world and should be easy and should come without cost should find the Table of the Lord a sobering place indeed.

     And yet – we love. And yet – we serve. Unconditionally and unselfishly and without hesitation. These were the most ordinary things for Jesus to do – the things he did in the course of an ordinary day. These should be the most ordinary things that we do in the course of our own ordinary days. And if we love and serve unconditionally and unselfishly and without hesitation, we might be surprised at the difference we can make to people’s lives in the course of just a single ordinary day.

A Thought For The Week Of January 29, 2018

"... I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing." (Romans 7:19) I'm writing this reflection on Groundhog Day, as I lament the fact that our local groundhogs seem to have decided that we have six more weeks of winter to come - and in the light of that prediction I am reminding myself that these meterologically inclined rodents are still God's creatures, and are deserving of respect. But the very fact that this is Groundhog Day reminds me of the wonderful movie of the same name, in which Bill Murray played a weatherman who found himself endlessly repeating the same day of his life (Groundhog Day) over and over again, with no obvious means of escape, no matter how desperately he tried to break the cycle. Which then made me think of Paul's words, "the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing." It is so easy to become trapped in patterns that - even if not evil - are at least not helpful or positive. We all know of people who are addicted to various things - and these are the worst manifestations of these kinds of patterns. But all of us can get trapped. It might not be drugs or alcohol or gambling or any of the other obvious "vices" that we hear about so often - but destructive and harmful patterns of behaviour are things we can all fall into; a series of bad choices in which one leads to another and it just keeps going on and on is something familiar to a lot of people. Jesus told us that we should be "perfect, as [our] heavenly Father is perfect," but that seems a dream; something beyond our reach. Self-help experts will tell us that it's as simple as replacing our bad patterns with good ones, but that isn't easy. Romans 7:19 tells us that Paul couldn't do that. We may not recognize our bad patterns as bad - maybe we've convinced ourselves that they're good, or at least not harmful, and those negative cycles (up to and including addictions) are things we get into because they meet some need deep within us. They're pleasant. They seem to help us. If that weren't the case, we'd give them up easily. So, if even Paul could lament the pattern of "evil" behaviour that had him ensnared and find no escape from it - is there hope? I suppose the hope is found in the fact that we can at least recognize the pattern. Perhaps the hope is that we realize the pattern isn't positive - that it's something we need to be released from. And, recognizing those things, maybe the pattern can even ultimately push us closer to God, as we learn that we have to depend on God for our ultimate freedom from these patterns that hold us ensnared. Eventually, Bill Murray's character found love on one of the countless Groundhog Days he experienced, - and he finally awakened on February 3, to face a bright future. Hopefully, in the midst of our negative patterns - we find the love of God, and we awaken into a new day, and a new life.