Year B, Passion Sunday (April 1, 2012)

·         Isaiah 50:4-9a

·         Psalm 31:9-16 (5)

·         Philippians 2:5-11

·         Mark 14:1 - 15:47

The Eucharist is the central rite of Christianity.

Let me say this again: the Eucharist is the central rite of Christianity.

Finding fault with everyone's conduct, legitimising authority, and asking the divinity for loot, is done in every religion, as far as I know. But only Christians have the Eucharist. So we ought to understand it.

The institution of the Eucharist begins with the celebration of the Passover, so let's look at the first Passover.

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt: "Tell the whole congregation of Israel that on the tenth of this month they are to take a lamb for each family, a lamb for each household. You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month; then the whole assembled congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight. They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. They shall eat the lamb that same night; they shall eat it roasted over the fire with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Do not eat any of it raw or boiled in water, but roasted over the fire, with its head, legs and inner organs. You shall let none of it remain until the morning; anything that remains until the morning you shall burn. This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the Passover of the Lord. For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike down every firstborn in the land of Egypt, both human beings and animals; on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord. The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt."

At midnight the Lord struck down all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sat on his throne to the firstborn of the prisoner who was in the dungeon, and all the firstborn of the livestock. Pharaoh arose in the night, he and all his officials and all the Egyptians; and there was a loud cry in Egypt, for there was not a house without someone dead. Then he summoned Moses and Aaron in the night, and said, "Rise up, go away from my people, both you and the Israelites! Go, worship the Lord, as you said. Take your flocks and your herds, as you said, and be gone. And bring a blessing on me too!"

The time that the Israelites had lived in Egypt was four hundred thirty years. At the end of four hundred thirty years, on that very day, all the companies of the Lord went out from the land of Egypt. That was for the Lord a night of vigil, to bring them out of the land of Egypt. That same night is a vigil to be kept for the Lord by all the Israelites throughout their generations.

(Exodus 12:1, 3, 6-13, 29-32, 40-42)

First, this gives us the context for the events of Jesus's last night. They have dinner, which would be roast lamb with bitter herbs and unleavened bread, and then they are keeping a vigil for the Lord. In hindsight, this turns out to be also a death watch for Jesus, but the disciples don't know that. As far as they know, this is just the regular Passover vigil. And they're not doing a particularly good job of it, because they're complacent. With hindsight we say Jesus was preparing himself and the disciples let him down by not waking and praying with him, but they didn't know that. I don't know that Jesus himself knew this was his last night. As he always said himself, about the time and the hour no one knows but the Father.

Second, there is a point about the blood of the lamb. In our Christian jargon, we have many terms that are references to Judaism as Jesus knew it. We use these terms often with very little meaning and no understanding of their origin. To a Jew, we probably sound like a bunch of noobs when we use all these terms. The blood of the lamb, on the night of the first Passover, was used to mark the jambs and lintels of the doors of the houses were the Hebrews were, so that the Lord passed over those houses. Now we say we are washed in the blood of the lamb and this washes away our sins, but in reality the blood of the lamb doesn't "wash" anything, it is only a mark for God to recognise his own. A mark we choose and put on ourselves, incidentally. We choose to identify ourselves with a sign, to be recognised as the people of God. Nowadays we do this with baptism and cross-shaped ornaments, but originally it was the blood of the lamb that marked God's people.

Third, it is interesting that Jesus and the disciples are out of doors, in the garden at Gethsemane. This may seem like a detail, but on the night of the first Passover it was a matter of life and death. The Hebrews stayed in the houses marked with the blood of the lamb, and lived. The Egyptians were out and about, and the firstborn of Egypt died. And on this night, Jesus and the disciples go out to a garden instead of staying in the house, and Jesus, who was of course a firstborn himself, dies. So that creates a very interesting parallelism. On the first Passover, the firstborn of Egypt were killed to free the Hebrews from the Egyptians. On this Passover, it is the Lord's firstborn son who is killed. Who does he free, and from whom? As before, he frees those people who are marked with the blood of the lamb – those of us who choose to identify ourselves as God's people by making his mark on ourselves. But from whom are we freed? We routinely say it's from [SQG] "the devil." Well, Jesus is not the son of [SQG] "the devil", so there is no analogy there. Jesus is the firstborn of the Lord and a Hebrew woman, so we can see it two ways. Either Jesus frees us from the Hebrews, that is, from the Law, or he frees us from God himself. But either way it comes to the same thing, really. Jesus frees us from sin. Not from the Law or from the Lord, but from our obsession with the idea that anyone who transgresses the Law will be punished with eternal torture. Jesus frees us from the retributive, oppressive aspect of the Law, and frees us, as I always say, to do what he called us to, which is serve others.

And fourth, I kept this point for last because it will take the most explaining, we have to look at the institution of the Eucharist. And of course we always say that the death of Christ and therefore the Eucharist also are sacrifices of atonement for our sins, so let's look at what the sacrifice of atonement was. On the one hand, there is the regular sin offering, which people offer for their own sins that they know to have committed. The sin offering is a bull for the high priest or for the congregation of Israel, a male goat for a ruler, a female goat or ewe for an ordinary person, or two turtledoves or pigeons if you can't afford a goat, or a grain offering if you can't afford two turtledoves or pigeons. On the other hand, there is the Day of Atonement offering, which is for the sins we are not aware of, and is a bull for the high priest, a ram for the people, and two goats, one to be sacrificed and one sent off into the wilderness to carry away the sins of the people.

The procedure for sin offerings is described in Leviticus as follows:

(The priest) shall bring the bull to the entrance of the tent of meeting before the Lord and lay his hand on the head of the bull; the bull shall be slaughtered before the Lord. The anointed priest shall take some of the blood of the bull and bring it into the tent of meeting. The priest shall dip his finger in the blood and sprinkle some of the blood seven times before the Lord in front of the curtain of the sanctuary. The priest shall put some of the blood on the horns of the altar of fragrant incense that is in the tent of meeting before the Lord; and the rest of the blood of the bull he shall pour out at the base of the altar of burnt offering, which is at the entrance of the tent of meeting. He shall remove all the fat from the bull of sin offering: the fat that covers the entrails and all the fat that is around the entrails; the two kidneys with the fat that is on them at the loins; and the appendage of the liver, which he shall remove with the kidneys, just as these are removed from the ox of the sacrifice of well-being. The priest shall turn them into smoke upon the altar of burnt offering. But the skin of the bull and all its flesh, as well as its head, its legs, its entrails, and its dung – all the rest of the bull – he shall carry out to a clean place outside the camp, to the ash heap, and shall burn it on a wood fire; at the ash heap it shall be burned.

The priest who offers it as a sin offering shall eat of it; it shall be eaten in a holy place, in the court of the tent of meeting. Whatever touches its flesh shall become holy; and when any of its blood is spattered on a garment, you shall wash the bespattered part in a holy place. An earthen vessel in which it was boiled shall be broken; but if it is boiled in a bronze vessel, that shall be scoured and rinsed with water. Every male among the priests shall eat of it; it is most holy. But no sin offering shall be eaten from which any blood is brought into the tent of meeting for atonement in the holy place; it shall be burned with fire.

(Leviticus 4:4-12, 6:26-30)

Now the sin offering for the congregation is one of those for which blood is brought into the tent of meeting, therefore none of it is eaten: it is burned entirely. So if we say that Jesus is a sacrifice of atonement for all of us, that is, for the congregation, then his body cannot be eaten. And second, Jews absolutely do not eat or drink blood. It is absolutely forbidden to them. So how would Jesus tell his disciples to eat his flesh and drink his blood, if he is supposed to be a sacrifice of atonement?

On the other hand, there is a passage in Numbers that I didn't even know about until I actually read the whole Bible myself, which is as follows:

(When) you make an offering by fire to the Lord from the herd or from the flock ... to make a pleasing odour for the Lord, then whoever presents such an offering to the Lord shall present also a grain offering. ... When you offer a bull as a burnt offering or a sacrifice ... then you shall present with the bull a grain offering, three-tenths of an ephah of choice flour, mixed with half a hin of oil, and you shall present as a drink offering half a hin of wine, as an offering by fire, a pleasing odour to the Lord.

If you unintentionally fail to observe all these commandments that the Lord has spoken to Moses – everything that the Lord has commanded you by Moses, from the day the Lord gave commandment and hereafter, throughout your generations – then if it was done unintentionally without the knowledge of the congregation, the whole congregation shall offer one young bull for a burnt offering, a pleasing odour to the Lord, together with its grain offering and its drink offering, according to the ordinance, and one male goat for a sin offering. The priest shall make atonement for all the congregation of the Israelites, and they shall be forgiven; it was unintentional, and they have brought their offering, an offering by fire to the Lord, and their sin offering before the Lord, for their error.

(Numbers 15:3-4a, 8-10, 22-25)

The requirements for the grain offering are described in Leviticus:

When you present a grain offering baked in the oven, it shall be of choice flour: unleavened cakes mixed with oil, or unleavened wafers spread with oil. If your offering is grain prepared on a griddle, it shall be of choice flour mixed with oil, unleavened; break it in pieces, and pour oil on it; it is a grain offering. If your offering is grain prepared in a pan, it shall be made of choice flour in oil... You shall bring to the Lord the grain offering that is prepared in any of these ways; and when it is presented to the priest, he shall take it to the altar. The priest shall remove from the grain offering its token portion and turn this into smoke on the altar, an offering by fire of pleasing odour to the Lord. And what is left of the grain offering shall be for Aaron and his sons; it is a most holy part of the offerings by fire to the Lord. No grain offering that you bring to the Lord shall be made with leaven, for you must not turn any leaven or honey into smoke as an offering by fire to the Lord.

(Leviticus 2:4-11)

So. Let's get back to our gospel reading. "While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said 'Take; this is my body.'" (Mark 14:22) Again, being the night of the Passover, this is unleavened bread they're eating, therefore acceptable as a grain offering with a sin offering. And he blesses it and breaks it like a grain offering.

"Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, 'This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.'" And this is a cup of wine, therefore acceptable as a drink offering with a sin offering.

Therefore to come to my point at long last, it makes no sense to say that the bread and wine are the body and blood of Christ offered as a sin offering, because that would be anathema to a Jew, which he was. But to say that the bread and wine are the grain offering and drink offering with the sin offering makes perfect sense. And by having the Twelve eat and drink of it, Jesus is creating them into priests. (As we know, the word of God creates what it declares.)

Is this contrary to Jesus's statements? I don't think so. I don't think Jesus said, literally, "this is my body" and "this is my blood", because that would have been crazy, especially for a Jew.  The gospel of Mark, as far as we know, appears to have been written for Christian gentiles around 70 C.E., that is, forty years after the fact, and for people who didn't know the practices of Temple Judaism. The actual words of Christ were probably not remembered exactly 48 hours after the events, let alone 40 years, and now it needs to be made intelligible and catchy for the gentiles. So what got written down is one thing, and what was actually said was probably a longer, more technical statement that the bread and wine are grain and drink offerings along with the sin offering that is Christ's body.

There are several further analogies with the sin offering: Christ was offered as a sacrifice by the chief priests, his blood was poured out, his body was taken to a clean place outside the city, and it was entirely taken up to Heaven so that none of it remained. So the concept of Christ as sin offering is perfectly clear within the Temple Judaism tradition, and so is the offering of the bread and wine, but not the concept of transubstantiation, consubstantiation, real presence, or even symbolic meaning. The bread and wine are not the body and blood of Christ and do not represent the body and blood of Christ. They are simply additional offerings that are required with the sin offering that is Christ.

One last reason why I see it this way, is that it would be absurd to repeat the sacrifice of Christ in any way. If we have to do it again, then it didn't work the first time. And if it didn't work the first time, it's certainly not gonna work by being re-enacted. But of course it worked, and we're not doing it again. We're doing the grain and drink offerings, in remembrance of Christ, as he asked us. And in partaking of the grain and drink offering, we are identifying ourselves as priests of Christ.

Thank you for your patience with this lengthy sermon.

Praise be to God, the Compassionate, the Merciful.

Hillbilly ten commandments

Year B, 5th of Lent (March 25, 2012)

·         Jeremiah 31:31-34

·         Psalm 51:1-12 (10)

·         Hebrews 5:5-10

·         John 12:20-33

The word that caught my attention in these readings is "obedience." First of all, it brings up some existential questions. Did God know that Jesus would obey? If so, did Jesus have a choice? If he didn't, is obedience meaningful? If he did, and he really could have opted out, what would have happened if he had opted out? Would God have picked someone else? Would we be now worshipping God's second begotten son?

That doesn't seem like a constructive line of reasoning. So then I thought, if thinking about the meaning of Jesus's obedience is not a constructive line of reasoning, does that mean that obedience is not really the important thing?

I started thinking about that. And it occurred to me that Jesus's obedience is not superhuman. It does not require any divine powers. It doesn't even require any extraordinary qualities by human standards. People, ordinary people, obey orders unto death quite routinely. In fact, the more ordinary, the less exalted, the less superior, the more likely they are to let themselves die by order from an authority. Consider the common soldier, often known as "cannon fodder." Consider also the bottom-of-the-ladder industrial worker. In most companies, from the beginning of the Industrial Revolution through today, industrial workers have consistently done very dangerous things, knowing they were very dangerous, simply because the guy who signs the cheques wants it done. In Canada, five workers a day die of unsafe conditions in the workplace. Routine, inglorious, uninspiring, self-sacrificial obedience. And we're supposed to be a civilised country, where people have rights.

In contrast, people who die for an idea make a much greater fuss of it than those who die for a paycheque. People with ideas might not enjoy the actual process of getting killed, but they're by and large quite happy to be dying for their idea, as opposed to, say, of a fall in the shower. Mohandas Gandhi, in particular, always wanted to get assassinated. Martin Luther King probably didn't, but wasn't afraid of it either. Che Guevara spent his life putting himself in the line of fire for his ideas, and his last words, famously, were "shoot, coward, you're only going to kill a man". In other words, he knew that his ideas would go on. Mohamed Bouazizi would have lived and died in complete obscurity, had he not set himself on fire for an idea. The list of people who have been willing to die for an idea runs probably to hundreds of thousands at the very least, including heretics, political activists, freedom fighters, guerilleros, rebels, terrorists, soldiers, students.

So is Jesus's obedience really that special? If it's easy enough to die for an idea, how much easier is it to die with the knowledge that God has your back?

Is it because of the particular method of his death? I've always heard that "crucifixion is one of the most painful ways to die." Then one day I asked myself: is it, really? How do we know? Because we came up with the word "excruciating"?

I decided to look into it. Everywhere I look, it's just the same canned phrase that I've heard since childhood. "Crucifixion is one of the most painful ways to die." No data to back it up, no evidence, nothing. Then I found an article that says every wound in crucifixion is designed to produce maximum suffering; but as I read the article, what emerged is that the wounds are really incidental to the political process, rather than "designed" for anything, and that they don't in fact produce [SQG] "maximum suffering". In fact they don't really seem to produce very much suffering at all, by the standards of capital punishment.

The nails cut off the main nerves to the hands and feet. Right. Well, I work with amputees and people with spinal cord injuries, who have similar injuries to major nerves. Yes, they're in pain. No, it's not "maximum suffering."

Then, the naked back, all cut up from flogging, rubs against the rough wood of the cross. True; but then, they'd get numb from being in that position. I work in construction; you always have cuts and bruises and various aches and pains that hurt every time you move. You get on with it. Is it on par with having your back flogged? No. But you can live with open cuts and bruises. Flagellants did exactly that. It's not "maximum suffering" either.

The main feature of crucifixion is actually that you can't breathe, and slowly asphyxiate; unless you've been flogged enough that you bleed out, go into shock, and die of heart failure before you can asphyxiate. This is apparently what happened to Jesus. It's consistent with his being suddenly thirsty, altered consciousness, sudden and early death, and pooling of blood and fluid around the heart. And the good thing with asphyxia is, it reduces oxygen to the brain, which reduces consciousness, which reduces suffering.

But the main reason I really doubt crucifixion ranks very high in the "painful ways to execute a guy" list is that when you read world history, nobody uses crucifixion as a form of torture. There are all sorts of really grisly things people have done to each other for the specific purpose of inflicting pain, and you never see crucifixion listed as one of them. It's not used to extract confessions, or for terror. It's just a slow and labour-intensive way to kill someone. It's a useful political display, not an effective form of torture. By the way the Nazis did some research into what "the most painful way to die" would actually be, and while it's pointless to discuss it here, crucifixion wasn't it.

So where am I going with this? Well, we've always been taught to make a big deal of Jesus's acceptance of his death because it was such a horrible, horrible death, and he was so utterly innocent, poor darling, etc. But that's not true. Crucifixion was a slow death, rather painful but not inordinately so by the standards of what humans do to each other. The more relevant factor is that it was political. It was a deterrent, because it made a good billboard, and people could crowd around and taunt the condemned for a few hours. Hence it was used for thieves and runaway slaves, yes – because protecting property rights was important to the Roman social order. But it was also used extensively for rebels. Again, so they could be put on display and taunted, to impress on the public that rebels are objects of ridicule. It was very political. And in that respect, Jesus was not at all innocent. He was a political activist and a considerable threat to the Jewish political order. To the Romans, not at all, which is why Pilate acquitted him; but to the Jews, he was a dangerous radical. He was not at all innocent of that, and he knew it very well. As for his innocence from sin etc, I don't believe it either, but that's less relevant to his state of mind.

What I'm saying is, Jesus is not the Victorian-age doe-eyed blonde helpless victim of [SQG] "one of the most painful ways to die", as we're told to believe. He was an early Che Guevara. In fact, his appearance would have been much more like Che than as the Renaissance depicted him. And he knew he was going to get executed for political reasons, just as Che did. Che faced execution without begging for mercy, and he was only human, and an atheist at that. Certainly the son of God could die as well as Che. When we hear that Jesus asked not to go through with it, then submitted, it may be a good story, but there is one problem: he was allegedly alone in the garden at Gethsemane, and the disciples were allegedly asleep, when this prayer allegedly happened. And he never had a chance to talk to his disciples afterwards to tell them what happened.

So... Is that even true? Did Jesus really ask not to go through with it? Or was the whole thing added on after to teach us obedience to the Church?

Ultimately, my point is this: too many people spend too much time focused on Jesus's birth and death, and especially on the details most likely to be apocryphal. In reality the important parts are Jesus's life, and what he taught, and the reason, not the manner, of his death. That's what we ought to focus on.

Praise be to God, the Compassionate, the Merciful.

Year B, 4th of Lent (March 18, 2012)

·         Numbers 21:4-9

·         Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22 (19)

·         Ephesians 2:1-10

·         John 3:14-21

I love the fire snakes. I find them hilarious. The Hebrews are whining in the desert, again. So God says "you wanna cry? I'll give you something to cry about." And he sends the fire snakes. That in itself cracks me up. Then Moses intercedes with God. Does God recall the fire snakes? No. He authorises the bronze snake. Now you have to look at the bronze snake to survive a snake bite. Why? As a gesture of obedience to God. In effect, God is saying "you can bloody well kiss my Almighty arse – and you STILL get bit by the fire snakes."

That's just hilarious. Not least because it's very human. When I have to look after an ill-mannered kid, I don't give anything that's not asked for politely. But if they do ask politely, I still don't have to give them everything they ask for. God is like that too. You don't get by asking rudely, but he's not obligated to give you just because you ask politely, either. You can say "we ask this in Jesus's name" all you want, that's not gonna force God's hand. And there are some things you're just not gonna get, period. If a kid asks me for a Slurpee, he's not gonna get it. Period. I'm not wasting my money on a paper cup full of crushed ice and artificial flavour. I suspect God has his list of "I'm not wasting my money on that", too. For example, several people have been praying that God would send me a boyfriend. Well God is not gonna do that. God has things to do.

Now Jesus gives us an analogy between himself and the bronze snake. You get bit by a fire snake, you die – unless you look at the bronze snake. Likewise, you get bit by... worldly things, and you die – unless you look at Christ, then you live. But with Christ, he's talking about the afterlife, not this one.

The thing is, the Jews don't have much of an afterlife. They have Sheol, which is similar to limbo. It's not Heaven, it's not Hell, it's just dark and quiet, and you mostly spend your time sleeping. It's probably boring, but no worse. There were other ancient people who shared this view of what comes after death, for example the Greeks. Others, like the Egyptians, saw the afterlife as full of life, but they generally figured that whatever status and wealth you have in this life, you'll have in the next. So the idea that you can have things completely different in life and in afterlife was a paradigm shift, even apart from the notion that you would earn status in the afterlife by worshipping a human as the Son of God. Yet oddly, the early Christians understood this much better than the average modern Christian.

I keep harping on this, sermon after sermon, and as far as I can tell, no one is listening, so let me say it again: Christianity is not about asking God to do stuff for you.

Christianity is not about asking God to do stuff for you.

Christianity is not about asking God to do stuff for you.

Please say it with me: Christianity is not about asking God to do stuff for you.

Christianity is not about asking God to do stuff for you.

Christianity is not about asking God to do stuff for you.

Christianity is not about asking God to do stuff for you.

(ad lib.)

Thank you.

So let's get back to our fire snakes. The Hebrews are complaining in the desert, just like we Christians are complaining amid our appalling plenty.

God sends the fire snakes to the Hebrews; for the Christians, he sends the outer darkness, with wailing and gnashing of teeth.

The Hebrews repent; the Christians... well, not so much, really. Christians say they repent, but I don't believe a word of it. I think most of us, when we say we repent, are just moving our mouths. Of course, God knows our hearts, but I'm fairly good at spotting hypocrisy myself, and I tell you, most of us are lying when we say we repent.

God gives the Hebrews the bronze snake, that you can look at for salvation when the consequences of your rebellion come back and bite you. Then he gives the Christians Christ, to whom we look for salvation when the consequences of our rebellion –

Wait a minute... No we don't! We look to Jesus and ask for more loot! Is that what the Hebrews did? I'll tell you; if the Hebrews had been like us, Numbers 21:9 would read "So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and complain some more."

Stop complaining about what God is giving you. You hear me? That's what you're doing when you ask God for this, that and the other thing. What you're saying is "God, we detest this miserable food. All this stuff you've given me is not good enough, I want more and better stuff. I want wealth, perfect health, great sex, absence of any hardship, I ask this in Jesus's name, amen."

You know what you're gonna get? You're gonna get a fire snake, that's what. Something unpleasant is gonna bite you in the arse. Then God will see whether you turn to Christ, or not. If you turn to Christ, you still won't get what you asked for. You won't get excused from an unpleasant consequence, either. But because you turned to Christ, you will be counted as God's own, and you will be permitted to live in Christ. And living in Christ, I'll remind you, means serving your neighbour. It's a privilege that God graciously grants to those who choose to obey rather than complain.

Maybe you should make yourself a bronze snake. Some people pray over crosses, or put a cross in their prayer space and pray towards it. Many people ascribe some kind of idolatrous meaning to crosses. The reality is, a cross is an inanimate object. God does not inhabit it, and it has no power to do anything. It's only a sign: a sign to remind us of our covenant with God, and a sign to indicate to others that we belong to the Lord. Likewise with a bronze snake. It's an inanimate object. It has no power, it is not a god or a carved image. It's a reminder for the people of God. And what it reminds us of is this: "keep crying, and I'll give you something to cry about; or remember that you are my people, and live." So maybe you should pray before a bronze snake rather than a cross, so that you will stop thinking Jesus owes you something, and start remembering that God has already given you everything and would like to see some respect and obedience rather than belly-aching.

Praise be to God, the All-Aware, the Forbearing, the Incomparably Great.

Year B, 3rd of Lent (March 11, 2012)

·         Exodus 20:1-17

·         Psalm 19 (8)

·         1 Corinthians 1:18-25

·         John 2:13-22

One thing I like about being a Lutheran is that I don't have to agree with everything Martin Luther said. And in particular, I disagree about the Law vs. Gospel thing. As far as I'm concerned, it's specious, unnecessary, and contrary to the Scripture.

Supposedly, there is so much Law and we're so incapable of complying with it, that it will simply drive us to despair and away from God. Or in Paul's weird reasoning, which I've never understood, much less agreed with, the law somehow causes us to sin. It's much like the popular slogan that "if guns are outlawed, only outlaws will have guns."

In reality, there is not very much law, it is not particularly onerous, and most importantly, we are not damned for every violation. There are over 600 commandments in the Old Testament. That's supposed to be an excuse? Really? There are 849 numbered sections in the Criminal Code, and each of them is a lot longer than an Old Testament commandment. Most of them have several paragraphs and subparagraphs. And yet I've never been convicted, accused, or even suspected, as far as I know, of any violation of the Criminal Code.

The Alberta Occupational Health and Safety Act, coincidentally, also has 849 sections with paragraphs and subparagraphs. Then there is the Income Tax Act, which is considerably bigger than these two put together, and of course the Employment Insurance Act and the Canada Pension Plan Act, and I've gone through reviews under some of those acts and never been found to have done anything wrong, either. There is the Canadian Charter of Rights, the Highways Act, the Employment Standards Act, the Residential Tenancies Act, the National Building Code, the CPPI Professional Petroleum Driver's Manual and local bylaws. That's just the laws I can comply with in daily life and work, most of them without the least conscious effort. To say nothing of the Guiding Law, the instructions on my medication, good manners and my own moral standards.

In our society, we are right now subject to tens of thousands of lines of written law and a considerable amount of "unwritten rules." And we follow the immense majority of them without even thinking. Even people who are in jail for life generally have broken only a small percentage of laws. And even they are usually eligible for parole after 25 years.

Of course it was a bit different in Luther's day. There was less law, but you could be tortured and killed for breaking it, or being accused of breaking it, or just being disliked. Maybe in Luther's day, there was so little law that 600 rules seemed like a lot, but obviously he was wrong. And even in Jesus's day, we already knew that it was quite possible to follow God's laws. That's what the Pharisees were about.

As for any claim that we can't follow the Ten Commandments specifically, it is utterly preposterous. Let's see:

1.       "You shall have no other gods before me." I'm good on that one.

2.       "You shall not make for yourself an idol." K, didn't do that either.

3.       "You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord." Check. As far as I know, I haven't made any wrongful claims involving the name of the Lord.

4.       "Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy." Check. I have not worked a single Sunday since I became a Christian. Although I might have to do it under the conditions of some jobs in the future, I do not wilfully disregard the Sabbath.

5.       "Honour your father and mother." Er... Well, ok, I've been disobedient and critical of my parents from time to time. But at this time, for their sake and mine as well as for the love of God, I am making every effort to be kind and respectful to them.

6.       "You shall not murder." Right. I haven't murdered anyone and don't foresee any occasion for it.

7.       "You shall not commit adultery." Check. Never did that.

8.       "You shall not steal." Ok, I've stolen in the past. I shoplifted as a kid. I'm pretty sure I've stolen since, but I don't remember specific instances. I remember that I've been tempted to steal, and I refrained specifically because it is wrong.

9.       "You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour." Damn right! Pardon my language, but I fucking hate gossip and lies.

10.   "You shall not covet." Well, I'm borderline on coveting. I have my eye on a young man who is with someone else; but then again, I haven't tried to get him away from her. I've been given to understand that it's not really "coveting" unless you act on it.

There you go. I'm clear on all Ten Commandments, and I don't even have to work at it. It's really not difficult, okay?

Not only that, but God's law always had a "not intending to sin" provision. The main example in the Bible is that if a sheep falls into a pit on the Sabbath, it is legal to pull it out. The Quran has many more example where it clearly explains that if a person finds himself in circumstances where it is not possible to follow the law, though he does not intend to sin, he can make some other sign of his obedience to God and proceed, and not be condemned. Modern Jews do this as well. I went to university with a knowledgeable Jew, and we used to have many conversations about this. He explained that if, for example, you do laundry on Friday and dump it on your bed, and then go do something else and don't return until after sunset, it is lawful to move the laundry aside quickly and without folding it, so that you can lie down and sleep, even though it is a form of work. Or if you were to bump a light switch and turn a lamp on inadvertently, it is lawful to turn it off again by doing it in some unusual way, such as behind your back, so as to acknowledge that you are remembering the Sabbath.

The point of God's laws is not to get us in trouble, or to "drive us toward Christ". Most of it is simply to let us live together in harmony, with basic needs and justice for all. A few of the laws are specifically to give glory to God. The Sabbath, while beneficial to all, is most of all a show of respect to the Lord. And throughout the Old Testament, what we see over and over is not condemnation, but forgiveness for even the greatest offences. The small ones are not even mentioned. It takes a massive amount of wilful disobedience and disrespect of the Lord before he will punish anyone, and even so he forgives. What's more, God is not shown to punish individuals for individual offences. God punishes Israel. The assembly, not the individual. But that, maybe, is a topic for another sermon.

Don't make excuses for breaking the law; whether man's law or the Old Testament law. Jesus did not repeal any laws. The only law from the Old Testament that seems to be repealed on good authority is about what we can and can't eat. Christ did not die to excuse us from the laws, but to demonstrate God's forgiveness.

Praise be to God, the Judge, the Equitable, the Forbearing.

Year B, 2nd of Lent (March 4, 2012)

·         Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16

·         Psalm 22:23-31 (27)

·         Romans 4:13-25

·         Mark 8:31-38

This is, in my opinion, one of the most important gospel readings. The true nature of Jesus, transubstantiation versus consubstantiation, virgin birth or no, all that fancy theology is of theoretical interest, but does not change how we actually live our lives as Christians. This does. In fact, this is one of the few texts that changes everything, because Jesus defines what we Lutherans call "theology of the cross."

Listen: "if any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."

That's all. That's almost all you need to know. Three steps.

Step one: deny ourselves.

Typically we understand this as denying ourselves something. Food, strong drink, fornication, whatever. But when you look at it, just as it's written, that's not what it says. It says "deny ourselves." I hear this: stop making so much of ourselves. Stop telling ourselves that we're worthy, beautiful and important. In reality, none of us is a beautiful or unique snowflake. We are all part of the same compost heap. Many people like to tell each other that we are each beautiful and valuable to God. That may be; yet none of us can claim to be more valuable and beautiful to God than the next.

This winter, one of my lemon trees was dying. It spent all winter slowly dying of salt toxicity, and it took me all winter to figure out what it was and how to treat it. So when I ran out of ideas, I just prayed. I did not ask God to save my lemon tree, I just laid hands on it and recited psalms and prayers, once or twice a day. After many weeks, when the tree had no leaves left and just one branch, new growing tips appeared on the trunk. Hallelujah! I thought. Praise the Lord! My tree is alive! And then I asked myself, did God save my tree? So I brought this up at the Roman Catholic Bible study group, and someone said to me "you have faith and you like to pray, but your problem is, you don't believe that you are important to God and what matters to you matters to him." Well, that's one theory. But that's a theory of glory. If I matter enough to God that he saved a lemon tree for me, why does my friend not matter enough for God to save her seven-year-old son from cancer? That's ridiculous. Such a theory can only lead people away from God.

When we deny ourselves, we do not say that we are important, beautiful, valuable, unique, and most of all, entitled to demand material benefits from God and receive them. We are important to God, exactly as much as the next person or the insect larva crawling in the walls. What we deny ourselves, as theologians of the cross, is pride. We deny ourselves glory. We deny ourselves ego. We deny ourselves "feeling good about ourselves", whatever that even means. That's step one: stop making much of ourselves.

Step two: take up our cross.

What does that mean, exactly? That's not a common idiom. It's not like "make like a tree", for example. And this is written in hindsight. Did Jesus actually say "take up your cross", or does the author of Mark remember it that way or even edit it that way because of what happened later? I suppose we may understand it to mean "take up the same task I took upon myself."

So let's consider the cross, metaphorically. In reality, Jesus did not carry the cross itself but the patibulum, which is the horizontal beam. It would have been about five or six feet long, to accommodate a man's arm span, and it had to have been quite thick, to take the size nail that was used. It couldn't be a 2 x 4, for example, because that would have split. So to eyeball it, I'm thinking something like eight by eight inches, and it would probably be hardwood, judging by the trees that grow in Jerusalem. So that would give it a weight of maybe 90 lbs. That's a rather hefty piece of wood. Most people I know can't lift 90 lbs at all, let alone carry it some distance, up a hill, barefoot and bleeding. Jesus was a construction worker himself and would have been quite used to carrying big chunks of wood, but even so, he couldn't pack the thing all the way by himself.

Now consider how we re-enact this today. I see processions coming out of churches with a gigantic cardboard cross being carried like... exactly what it is: an almost weightless prop. And everyone is processing with it, smiling and chatting happily.

Pardon my language, but what the FUCK is that supposed to mean? That's a theology-of-glory type of cross. It's weightless and the people who walk with it are all pleased to be seen engaging in their meritorious conduct. That's not at all what the real cross walk was like. I defy any one of you to walk a block carrying a 90-lb chunk of wood. Let alone up a hill to your death.

The cross is painful and crushing, both physically and emotionally. When Jesus tells us to "take up our cross", there is nothing, but nothing, that is pleasant about it. Jesus is not offering us any kind of reward. Not jobs, not money, not good health, not the respect of the villagers. Jesus is telling us to take up a crushing burden for his sake. That is theology of the cross. All the prayers for loot and health are theology of glory.

Step three: follow Jesus.

Where to? As Thomas said, we do not know the way. And as Jesus answered, he, Jesus, is the way, the truth and the life. Well, that's not really an answer. And that's right. We follow Jesus, we don't know where to. We follow Jesus because he is the way – to the Father, to salvation, to what? Maybe to nothing. Maybe the journey is the destination. Maybe Jesus is not leading us to anywhere in particular; what matters is the process. What matters is that we follow. He guides us along right pathways. He leads us beside still waters. And he leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. Does it matter where? What matters is that we follow.

Theologians of glory know where they're going. They're going to be rich, healthy and popular. If it hasn't happened yet, it's because they haven't prayed enough or had a personal relationship with Jesus or whatever. If they're going through hardship, it's because God is testing them or something. Something like "if he brings you to it, he'll bring you through it" or "he won't give you more than you can handle." As an after-thought, the theologian of glory may remember that there is also salvation to be had, which is to say, after you get everything you want in this life by asking God "in Jesus's name" or something, you get... well, I'm not sure exactly what meaning salvation can possibly have when you're already getting everything you want on earth. Maybe it's a way to reconcile our material wealth to the fact that Jesus had no use for the rich. We're gonna be rich, because God blesses us, and then we're also gonna go to "Heaven" despite being rich, because God is gonna forgive us for being rich.

That doesn't even make any sense at all, does it?

Theology of glory makes no sense. You cannot build a rational argument on it, you cannot build your life on it, you cannot build your church congregation on it. And it patently contradicts Jesus. God won't give you more than you can handle? Darn right he will. That's exactly what he just said: take up your cross. A real cross is definitely more than you can handle. If anyone tells you that by following Jesus you will have an easy time on earth, they're theologians of glory. They are setting their mind not on divine things but on human things. So you can say to them, "get behind me, Satan!" And then deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Jesus. Wherever that may lead you.

Praise be to God, the Subduer, the Withholder, the Abaser, the Afflicter, the Most Kind.

Year B, 1st of Lent (February 26, 2012)

·         Genesis 9:8-17

·         Psalm 25:1-10 (10)

·         1 Peter 3:18-22

·         Mark 1:9-15

My first thought about this lectionary was to talk about the symbolism of water in Christianity. But really, there are volumes written about that, I haven't read them, and I'm sure I don't have anything to add to them. But then something else occurred to me.

In the epistle, Peter is drawing a parallel between The Flood and our baptism in Christ, but he is also pointing to the progression in our relationship with Jehovah. And that is very interesting.

When you read the entire Bible, from Genesis through Revelation, or in whatever order suits you, it is very striking that God is not static. Unlike what I was taught in Catholic school, God is not unchanging. And of course neither are we. So like any relationship between two people, our relationship with God evolves with time.

In the beginning, our relationship started when God created us. And in the early days in the Garden, the relationship between God and Adam and Eve is a lot like a parent to a newborn child. You are mine, I created you, I provide everything for you, I am everything to you, you have nothing apart from me. Though there is love in this relationship, there is great inequality. The infant is completely dependent and beholden to the parent. He cannot exercise free will.

Then the child is two years old. He can walk. He can express himself. He has volition. He can defy his parent and assert himself as a separate human being. We call this the "terrible twos" because of what we see as rebellion and tantrums, which is really the resistance of an independent personality to the enormous control the parent has exerted so far. Many parents get angry and stressed. And so with us and God in the Garden. For the first time ever, we did something independent of God's will.

God totally freaked out on us. Seriously, as I love the Lord, that was not one of his best moments. The Garden, when you think about it, had a rather Orwellian quality: everything that is not forbidden is mandatory, and/or vice-versa. When man exercises free will, he gets the boot. One might argue that following the snake was not free will either, but the fact that man chose between two options was the first exercise of will. And God totally freaked out.

Then, life goes on outside the Garden. Man tills the soil and eats by the sweat of his brow, woman bears children in pain, the snake crawls on his belly and eats dust. Yeah. But at least they all get to make choices. It reminds me of General Emiliano Zapata, who famously said, "prefiero morir de pie que vivir siempre arrodillado." (I would rather die on my feet than live forever on my knees.) And God adapts to this new state of things, as parents sooner or later have to adapt to the fact that their young child can walk, talk, and exercise volition.

One day, God figures he's had enough of all that volition and he's got a plan that's gonna teach us obedience once and for all. The Flood. The Flood is going to wipe out [SQG] "sin" once and for all. [SQG] "sin" is really just disobedience to the will of God. When you think about it, that doesn't reflect too well on him either. God picks eight people that he's gonna keep, and makes a horrible example out of everyone else. I think Maoist China was something like that. Now in this case, I don't have a parallel with parenting, because it would be like a parent saying "I'm gonna kill all my children but one, and the one I spare is never gonna disobey me again." That's beyond brutal, and it's not gonna work. You're gonna go to jail, and your surviving child is never going to talk to you again. So it's rather miraculous that The Flood didn't completely break off our relationship with God.

And after The Flood, Jehovah does realise that he screwed up. Not only he drowned all mankind but eight, but he also drowned all the animals that weren't in the Ark. Mostly out of pique. So God promises not to do that again. If you've ever been in an abusive relationship, that promise sounds a lot like one of those "I'm sorry baby, I'll never do it again" moments, doesn't it? And we know what that's worth. But God, after all, is God, and he can do better than that. He can actually get over that kind of behaviour. Even so, he has to give himself a reminder: the rainbow. He puts his rainbow in the clouds to remind himself not to get that pissed off ever again. The rainbow is a sign of God's Covenant with us, but it's also an anger-management trick God taught himself.

Now although there is no strict parallel to The Flood in parenting, there is a gradual realisation that it is pointless to try to impose one's will on a child through punishment. So, gradually, the child is given more and more permission to make his own choices. A five-year-old does not have the same freedom as a twelve-year-old. Then again, neither does he have the same responsibilities. And as we read through the "historical" books of the Bible, we see just such a thing happening. God, in effect, gives the people more and more responsibility, and less and less punishment. No more floods. No more sending destroying Angels. God speaks through the prophets and warns the people of dire consequences, but the consequences come at the hands of other human beings. In a sense, the child is no longer being punished, but simply not being bailed out when his choices have undesirable consequences.

And then one day, there comes Christ. And after Christ, God pretty much stayed out of our lives. We don't have signs, prophets, floods, plagues of Egypt anymore. The Bible ends shortly after the death of Christ. Why? What's the analogy to the parent-child relationship here?

As a parent, at least as a parent who has a good relationship with his or her children, there comes a day when you say to your child something like this: "I've raised you the best I knew how, and now you are an adult. You are leaving my house and I can't tell you how to live your life. I'll always love you and I'll be here to listen when you need me, but you're your own person now and you will make your own way in life. I hope it goes well for you."

I think that's pretty much what Christ is all about. And that's one of the ways we can understand that Christ "takes away the sin of the world." God is cutting us loose, in effect. He is not going to punish us for exercising free will anymore. And he's going to listen to our sorrows, but he won't bail us out anymore. God has raised us to be his people the best way he knew, and now with the death of Christ, we are released from our child-like obedience to God. God acknowledges to us that we will make our own choices and some of them will not be to his liking, but it's our life, we live it as we see fit, and he'll always love us.

Maybe, somewhere in the universe, there is an infant people who is now learning to be God's people, as we did. Or maybe God is out golfing. Does he still pay attention to us? Yes. But he's not our nanny anymore. There is no more punishment for our sins, but there is also no more spoon-feeding. We're adults. God does not run our lives anymore.

So that's one meaning of the death of Christ. God doesn't just [SQG] "love" us anymore: he respects us as free-willed beings separate from himself. And I think God actually likes us.

That is very good news indeed.

Praise be to God, the Giver of life, the Causer of death, the Ever-Living, the Self-Existing by Whom all subsist.

Christos a înviat!