Year B, Pentecost (May 27, 2012)

·         Ezekiel 37:1-14

·         Psalm 104:24-34, 35b (30)

·         Acts 2:1-21

·         John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15

Pentecost. The day when we are baptised in the Holy Spirit.

[pause]

What does that mean, exactly, being "baptised in the Holy Spirit"?

Being baptised means to be immersed in something until we take on some of its qualities. Like a dye bath. So today we are to be immersed in the Holy Spirit until we take on some of its qualities. How do we do that, and what qualities will we take on?

Let's think about the Jewish rite that became our [SQG] "baptism". In the gospel we read that John [SQG] "baptised" people in water and Jesus will [SQG] "baptise" in the Holy Spirit. But in the rite that is called Jesus's baptism, it is not John who immerses people, but the people who immerse themselves. John only calls them to repentance, and witnesses their ritual immersion in water. John doesn't touch them.

Likewise, no one will really "baptise" us in the Holy Spirit. Jesus will not immerse us in the spirit. Jesus calls us, but it is we who immerse ourselves in the Spirit, of our own free will and by our own actions.

How do we immerse ourselves in the Holy Spirit? Good question. First of all, in order to immerse ourselves in the Holy Spirit, we have to find it, and in order to find it we have to know what it is.

In our first reading today, we see the Spirit of God at its work, the way it is throughout the Hebrew Testament. The Spirit of God is the breath of life, and the word that creates what it declares. The Spirit of God swept over the face of the waters in the very beginning. In our Gospel reading, we see the Spirit of God in John's version. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." (John 1:1) In French it is not called the Word but the Verb, which signifies even more the active nature of the Word, or Spirit, of God. The Word is God, but more commonly it is Christ who is called the Word; and the Spirit also is the Word, and is God, and is Christ. And if you ever read any Gnostic theology, it becomes even more convoluted than that.

John, writing in Greek, calls the Holy Spirit "Paraclete", which means the Advocate, or Helper, Comforter, Encourager, Intercessor, or "the one who is called alongside." And as John has it, the Paraclete cannot come into the world unless Christ leaves. In a sense, it's a Tyler Durden thing. Jesus is Jack. Jesus is the Holy Spirit trapped in a material world where convention matters. The Paraclete is Tyler Durden. The Holy Spirit is badass. The Holy Spirit defies convention, definition, capture, death. The Holy Spirit shakes off Jesus's narrow life as a Jewish carpenter in trouble with the law, and sends off the space monkeys to free the world from capitalism, materialism, convention, attachment to material desire, the fear of pain and death, and all the things that hold us back from being free.

In the book, by the way, unlike in the movie, Jack is removed to a psychiatric facility, but the space monkeys are at large – or are they? Only if they continue Tyler Durden's work.  Otherwise they're no longer space monkeys. So that's a very good analogy to the Holy Spirit.

All right, so the Holy Spirit is a bunch of Greek words, and also Tyler Durden. Great. That really doesn't tell us how to find the Holy Spirit to immerse ourselves in it. But then, you don't find Tyler Durden, either. Tyler Durden calls you. And the Holy Spirit calls you. John called people to the first [SQG] "baptism".  As it says in Isaiah 40:3-5:

A voice cries out in the wilderness,
"Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;

the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.

Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the Lord has spoken."

The Holy Spirit calls us. How? As it finds us. We all hear the call of the Spirit in different ways. And if we listen and follow the voice that calls us to prepare the way of the Lord, to change the world for the glory of the Lord, then we find the Holy Spirit. And then we immerse ourselves in it.

But again, how do we immerse ourselves in the Holy Spirit?

I think we have to go on a retreat. We have to go into the wilderness. We have to listen to the word of the Lord and meditate on it. We have to serve others. We have to praise the Lord and sing a new song to him. We have to deny ourselves. We have to take up our cross. While cannot be immersed both in the world and in the Spirit. So we have to renounce the world and devote ourselves to being immersed in the Holy Spirit. Jesus never suggested that we could do things halfway in following him. You take up your cross and follow him, or you can stay home. Or as Tyler Durden said, "sticking feathers up your ass does not make you a chicken." It's not a weekend seminar. You have to commit. Seriously, watch Fight Club, if you haven't already. You think it's crazy? Maybe it is. But that's what Jesus is asking you to do. Not the part about trashing franchise coffee bars. Well... Maybe that part too. But walking away from everything, living with only what you need, forsaking your identity and your will for the cause, that's what Jesus calls you to. If you couldn't be a space monkey, can you really say you've committed to the Lord?

Next question: how long do we need to be immersed in the Holy Spirit?

When we were baptised in water, most of us were not immersed at all, but if we were, we came up out of the water almost as soon as we went in. And that's about enough to be [SQG] "baptised" in water, because we don't have to be immersed in water for very long to take on some of its qualities, particularly the quality of being wet. But I don't think we can be [SQG] "baptised" in the Holy Spirit by taking a quick dip like that.

Consider the Apostles. How long were they immersed in the Spirit? They lived with Jesus three years, did they not? Three years in the presence of the Lord himself, before they completed their baptism and came up from the Spirit and were sent forth. So for us, who are not in the physical presence of Jesus Christ himself, how long do we have to immerse ourselves in the Holy Spirit?

I suspect the answer is, as long as it takes. You have to remain immersed in the Holy Spirit until you take on some of its qualities. And no, it's not a weekend seminar. It's a long, long retreat. And it is difficult to stay immersed.

I can tell you when I was called. It was some time between May 3 and May 7, 2010. I know that, because the first church bulletin I have is from May 9, 2010, sixth Sunday of Easter. I was at work, in the wilderness, when I heard the voice that was calling. I heard it very clearly, and I didn't hesitate. I googled to see what churches were near me, and I saw there was a Lutheran church, and I went. The church I went to, Holy Family Lutheran Church in Yellowknife, was full of the Spirit. So I immersed myself, and I have been immersed in the Holy Spirit ever since. Sometimes it's easy to be immersed, when the world leaves me alone, and other times it's difficult to balance the world and the Spirit. But I'm still immersed. Two years and three weeks so far.

Which then begs yet another question: how do we know when we've been immersed long enough?

Well now that is a very good question. How do we know that we have taken on qualities from the Holy Spirit?

Hmmmm... Think think think.

Well, I think we need to look at what we have to do once we come up out of our immersion. In the baptism of water, we put our clothes on, walk away from the water, and carry on with our life. But in the baptism of the Holy Spirit, will we shake off the drops of Holy Spirit, clothe ourselves back in our old ways, and carry on as before?

No. If we do that, we weren't immersed long enough to take on qualities from the Holy Spirit. If we stay immersed long enough, when we come out of the immersion and walk out into the world again, we will take with us the qualities of the Holy Spirit. And first of all the Holy Spirit does not hide itself. "Is a lamp brought in to be put under the bushel basket, or under the bed, and not on the lampstand?" (Mark 4:21) Thus when the disciples completed their baptism in the Holy Spirit, on the day of Pentecost, immediately they began to speak so everyone outside could hear them. And although they had been hiding in fear of the Jews, they went out and spoke, and then they went out preaching.

Pentecost, for the disciples, was not the beginning, but the completion of their baptism. In the same way that the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus in the shape of a dove after his baptism in water, now he descends on the disciples in the shape of tongues of fire upon their baptism in the Holy Spirit. And in the same way that Jesus's work began after his baptism in water, the work of the disciple began after their baptism in the Holy Spirit. When we have been baptised in the Holy Spirit, we will not stay silent, or stay home, but go forth and preach the good news so that all can hear.

So what does this mean for all of us here today? What does this say about our baptism?

We were baptised, most of us, as infants, others as children or even as adults. We were baptised, not even in water, but with water splashed on our heads by a human. Did the water do anything? Did the ritual mean anything? I once saw an Anglican priest baptise a stuffed Easter bunny. This [SQG] "baptism" by water may show our desire, or our parents' desire, that we be redeemed from sin by the grace that Jesus earned for us. But does it really mean anything, spiritually, when the baptised thicken on their dregs instead of serving the Lord, and when priests baptise stuffed toys?

Our baptism with water is only a beginning. It is an undertaking. From there on, we can immerse ourselves in the Holy Spirit – or not. No one can [SQG] "baptise us in the Holy Spirit." Jesus calls us, and we choose. We choose to immerse ourselves, or not. Many of us, even though we call ourselves Christians and are baptised, are not choosing to immerse ourselves in the Holy Spirit. Others are dipping themselves here and there, but are not taking on qualities of the Holy Spirit. Still others are still immersed in the Holy Spirit. And some come up out of the Holy Spirit and are sent forth to bring the word of God, the Spirit of God, the life-giving action of God, to the nations.

Our hymn for today: #669, Rise Up, O Saints of God

Year B, 7th Sunday of Easter (May 20, 2012)

·         Acts 1:15-17, 21-26

·         Psalm 1 (6)

·         1 John 5:9-13

·         John 17:6-19

The good news is, God is a forgiving God and we are a forgiven people.

Actually, that's not what I meant to say. I was gonna say, the good news is, the renos upstairs are complete. The bad news is, new tenants moved in. They throw their cigarette butts and garbage over the balcony and party fairly constantly. After five days in the place, they came up with the idea of throwing beer bottles into the street. From the ninth floor. Naturally, I called the RCMP. Two hours later, I called the RCMP again because the new tenants were puking over the railing onto the balconies below.

Charming, isn't it? But that's not all! The woman found out that I was the one calling the RCMP, found me on Facebook, and threatened to charge me with harassment if I called the RCMP again. Well, I'd like to see her try. I reported that part to the landlord. But the funny thing is, in her Facebook message, she claimed that there had been no throwing of bottles or throwing up from her apartment. Which is funny because not only were there eyewitnesses, but she had been yelling her name from her balcony to friends on the street.

You see, it's very difficult for people to do something that they know is wrong, but it's very easy for people to lie to themselves about having done something wrong. Drunken antics look hilarious to a drunk; being called on it while sober is embarrassing, so one makes up a lie. And one believes the lie. Research about lying shows that our decisions about how much to cheat and lie are not really based on ethics or on cost-benefit analysis. It's actually a benefits to self-esteem analysis. We screw our neighbour to the greatest extent that we can reconcile with thinking of ourselves as wonderful people. And we lie to cover up the things we know we shouldn't have done. Not even for fear of consequences, but to hide from ourselves the fact that we're douchebags. And yes, research also shows that we truly do believe our own lies.

What does this have to do with today's lectionary?

It has to do with Judas. Judas did something that he couldn't reconcile with his self-image. He couldn't lie to himself enough to believe that yes, it was the right thing to betray his buddy for thirty pieces of silver, and that he was a great guy for having done it. He couldn't lie to himself enough to believe he hadn't done it. He was a traitor, yes, but ultimately, he had enough integrity to know that he had done something terribly wrong. Then he killed himself.

I find Judas very interesting, you see. He's a rather mysterious character. We don't know his background. We don't know his motivations. He never speaks, except at the last supper. Judas never has a voice, because his story was written by people who hated him. And yet, there had to be a reason for what he did. We always have reasons. Did he need the money for something? Did Jesus offend him in some way? Did the priests have some way to put pressure on him? The gospel says that Judas went to them and asked for money to betray Jesus, but seriously, how would anyone know? Do you think Judas told the other apostles? Obviously not. Do you think the priests told the apostles? Also not. Or they may have put out a story that Judas initiated the contact, because it would look bad on Jesus's ministry. But I doubt it. I doubt they put out any official press release of what happened. I think the survivors made up this part of the story.

And you know what else? Other than Jesus, Judas is the only character in the gospel who's really necessary. He's the one who fulfills the prophecy. John the Baptist was handy, yes, started the ministry of repentance, nice tie-in to parts of the prophets, great. But Jesus would have been immersed sooner or later anyway, by some Levite or other. It didn't need to be John. Peter, John and Andrew? Oh yes, they always get a central role, especially Peter. But why? How about, because they're the ones who wrote the story? Peter and John were the ones who apparently did most of the early teaching and writing; consequently, they've written themselves a special place in the story. Did they actually have a special place in the story? Perhaps. No way to know. But consider this: Andrew wasn't one of the ones doing the teaching and writing, he never opens his mouth, and yet he gets counted as one of the top tier. Why, if not for the fact that he was Peter's brother and Peter wrote the story?

In the early church, by the way, Peter and Paul were at loggerheads, so from a church-political point of view, it was rather useful for Peter to have himself represented as Jesus's closest, bestest buddy. Was that actually true? Didn't Peter deny Jesus three times? And not kill himself?

Judas betrayed Jesus once and killed himself. Peter denies Jesus three times, goes home for a while, comes back and positions himself at the head of the ministry. That's rather slimy, if you ask me. But I digress. The point is, Peter, John, Andrew, Paul, any of them, could have never been there at all. Some of twelve, in fact, are barely mentioned. Like Thaddaeus. What did Thaddaeus ever actually do? Nothing that got written into the gospel. Because really, none of those guys did anything that was necessary. Not Peter, not Thomas, not Simon the Cananaean.

But Judas did something. Judas did something that had to be done and that no one wanted to do. John the Baptist died for his ministry, Jesus died for his ministry, Peter, Paul, countless martyrs died for their ministry. They died for what they believed was good and true and right. Judas did the wrong thing, knew it was the wrong thing, and killed himself for it. Judas was not martyred. Judas did not get a heroic death. Judas died alone and desperate, by his own hand. No glory for him. No comfort. And yet he's the one who made himself useful. He's the one who fulfilled the prophecy.

Someone had to betray Jesus. There was no need for some guy to walk on water and then fall in. But there was a need of someone to betray Jesus. It was a dirty, stressful, traumatic job, and someone had to do it. Judas did it, and then killed himself.

You know what I think? Remember when Jesus says to the second thief, "truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise"? I believe he would have said the same to Judas. I believe Judas is there with Jesus. I believe Judas is at Jesus's right hand. Do you not think Jesus forgave Judas first of all? Of course he did. Judas did what had to be done. Was it wrong? How can it be wrong if it was needed to fulfil the prophecy? Do you not think that Judas was chosen to do that dirty job, and that he was the first to be healed and made whole of the harm it did him? Do you not think Judas repented, more sincerely that any of us has ever repented our sins?

I believe he did. I believe Judas suffered the most of the apostles. He was called, and he was called not to preach the gospel to the nations, but to fulfil the prophecy and be despised of men. And this sat so heavily on him that he couldn't live with himself. Judas, I believe, obeyed a call as certainly as Jesus did, and I believe he suffered more than Jesus. He suffered alone, not in the knowledge of the resurrection and eternal glory, but believing himself to be unworthy and damned forever. And yet he suffered for the same purpose as Jesus: to earn the grace that saves and redeems us.

We could say that Judas, not Paul, was really [SQG] "chiefest of sinners". And for that reason, he is the first to be saved and forgiven. Indeed when we remember that "the first will be last", does it not tell us that Judas, the last among the apostles, the fallen one, is indeed the first in his achievements, and the first in Christ's love and forgiveness?

I think so.

Praise be to God, the Judge, the Equitable, the Knower of subtleties, the All-Aware, the Forbearing .

Year B, 6th Sunday of Easter (May 13, 2012)

·         Acts 10:44-48

·         Psalm 98 (4)

·         1 John 5:1-6

·         John 15:9-17

Imagine. It's a beautiful sunny afternoon in late May. We often get snow this time of year, but today it's warm and sunny, light southerly breeze, birds singing, plants sprouting. I have the picture window wide open. My brand new flowerbeds are seeded and ready to sprout. My priceless, unique, irreplaceable baobab, sacred to the memory of a dear friend, is sitting out on the balcony for the first time. The dog is sleeping peacefully in the sun. I've just read this beautiful gospel and I'm about to write a sermon about loving my neighbour.

Just then, the guy who's been doing renos two floors up starts dumping all the sanding dust over the balcony. It lands everywhere: my flowerbed, my food crops getting ready to bed out, my baobab, my piano, my dog, everything to within about three feet of the window.

What the f.........!!!!!!!

I storm upstairs and into the apartment. The guy, who was never the sharpest knife anyway, and further dilapidated his brain with some strange experiments in chemical abuse as a teenager, has got the whole apartment drop-clothed and is wearing an N95 respirator, but he's also got the door open, the window open, and he's heaving more dust over the balcony. So not only is it in everyone's apartments below, it's also all over the hallway. This is drywall dust, so it's got silica in it. Breathing in silica dust causes silicosis. Hence the mask. So he knows it's bad for you, but he's still dumping it over the balcony. And he's probably aware of being a huge douchebag, because he starts yelling rudeness at me before I can even open my mouth. Opening my mouth isn't useful anyway since he's deaf. I make my point clear nonetheless. He carries on nonetheless.

WHAT THE F.........!!!!!!!

Yeah, you're not supposed to swear in a sermon, I suppose. But some people are just douchebags. So it took the best part of an hour to look for the landlord and not find him, since he can never be found anyway, leave a message, and clean up the mess.

So then I sit down again to write my sermon, and all I can think is if God wanted me to love my neighbour, he wouldn't have created such f'ing morons.

I asked myself, "what would Jesus do?" Well I figure, silicosis is the oldest occupational disease known to man, and Jesus was a carpenter and wouldn't have thrown things off the edge when working at heights, because no self-respecting carpenter is dumb enough to do that. So I think if the guy did that on Jesus's site, he'd have got the mother of all earfuls. What would Jesus do? Jesus would have sent his arse home for the day, if not for good.

And you know what, Jesus got angry. At the scribes and Pharisees. At the moneychangers in the Temple. At a fig tree. Jesus did not like douchebaggery any more than I do, I'm pretty sure of that.

So what's the difference between Jesus withering a fig tree, and me being spitting mad at some slovenly worker who's wilfully polluting my apartment with hazardous materials?

How does Jesus get over it? How long does it take Jesus to get over it? You know, it's one thing to say, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they're doing." But this guy knew exactly what he was doing. He was tossing hazardous waste to the wind so it got into all the apartments below. And he kept on doing it after being told. That's just perverse. It's not following orders, it's not inadvertent, it's not accidental, it's deliberately, perversely doing what's wrong, knowing that it's wrong. Like the moneychangers in the Temple.

It doesn't say, really, how Jesus dealt with douchebags. He certainly tells them what he thinks of them. But how does he reconcile being angry and fed up with them, and loving them? It doesn't tell us. I guess that's one of the great mysteries of the Bible.

So I decided to back up my hard drive and go do something else. For about six hours, I did something else than my sermon. And I kept being mad. The whole day, it spoiled my mood. But then I wanted to write this sermon before bed, so I sat down again. And I read some psalms. About five of them. And then, I felt better. The guy is still a douchebag, but I can fill my mind with praise for the Lord until there is no room to worry over his douchebaggery.

Does that count as forgiveness? Does that count as loving my neighbour? Close enough, I hope. But it's lucky for me that I'm saved by grace through faith, because if I really had to love my douchebag neighbours, I'd just go straight to Hell.

Praise be to God, the Compassionate, the Merciful.

Year B, 5th Sunday of Easter (May 6, 2012)

·         Acts 8:26-40

·         Psalm 22:25-31 (27)

·         1 John 4:7-21

·         John 15:1-8

This letter of John's is maybe the hardest reading in the New Testament. "Those who say, 'I love God,' and hate their brothers and sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also."

Well, to be honest, I don't say I [SQG] "love" God. I don't think I've ever said that. Like John said, I've never even met the guy. I know the writings, I know how I perceive God in my life and in my heart, but I can't say exactly that I [SQG] "know" God, as a person. It's like the late Jack Layton, former leader of the NDP. Actually, I did meet Jack Layton once. I have a photo of me and Jack. He was a great leader to our party. But I never had lunch with Jack. I never had a personal conversation with him. I respected him as a leader, but I can't say I ever knew the man, really. Same with God. I respect God. I accept him as a leader. But do I know God personally? Have I played a round of golf with God? Is God my friend on Facebook? No.

So I don't say I love God. It would be more accurate to say that I seek the Lord.

So what about my neighbour? Someone told me a while back "the love of God shines through you." Well that's very kind of her. Clearly I'm doing a good job of hiding the sad fact that I don't even like my neighbour. My neighbours make noise. They smoke tobacco, weed and crack, and I can barely breathe in my own apartment. They litter. They idle their vehicles for hours even when it's warm. They're shoddy workers and dishonest employers. They're ignorant and inconsiderate. They make too many demands on my time. They're bad parents. And what I hate the most is, they're so very, very stupid. Like George Carlin said, if you think about how stupid the average person is, you have to realise that half of them are even stupider than that. And I can't stand stupid people.

But hey, apparently I'm doing a good job of hiding it, at least as long as I don't get into a political debate. Still, I always wonder. I seek the Lord, I serve him, but so help me, I just don't like people. So does that mean that the Spirit does not abide in me? Am I really one of the goats? Am I doomed to the utter darkness?

I think not. Well, at least I won't be in the outer darkness, because I'm saved. That's one thing I love about being a Lutheran: explaining to my non-Lutheran friends that God is not gonna smite me, because I'm saved, by grace, through faith. Thank you Lord for that, because I sure wouldn't get saved on my own merit, especially if I have to like my neighbour.

But the other comforting thought is that I'm not the only one. Not by a long shot. Martin Luther King himself, who seemed like a pretty fine upstanding Christian, said it's lucky for us God didn't ask us to like our neighbours. So I guess Martin Luther King had the same problem I do with liking people.

Now you might say, how can you love your neighbours if you don't even like them? Well, it's actually quite simple. In our modern society, we're misunderstanding love. We think those who love us are the people who make us [SQG] "feel good about ourselves." That's a very useless concept, if you think about it, but we don't really have time to think about it in this sermon. What we can think about though, is that nowhere in the Bible does it say we need to [SQG] "feel good about ourselves." It's really not one of the ideals that God has for us.

What does the Bible tell us about love? Hundreds of things. If you actually read the book, there is more of God's love than God's anger. And Saint Paul summarized the whole thing in 1 Corinthians 13.

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body to be burned, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

So, by the grace of God, we know that love is not defined by what we feel, but what we do. You may have heard parents say about their children, "I love him, but I don't really like him." In fact, you might say the greatest love is that we show the people we don't like. It's easy to do things for someone you like. Why wouldn't you do something for them? They're your friends. You like them. Maybe you actually know you like them by the fact that you willingly do things for them. When you start getting fed up with doing things for them, you start to notice you don't like them as much. They're too demanding. They're inconsiderate. They don't do anything back for you. You don't like them very much after all.

Doing something for someone you don't like is much harder. If my neighbour needs his car boosted, I'll boost his car. But if it's the neighbour who's always trying to cause me trouble, then I don't want to boost her car. I don't like her. Plus she's trying to do me harm, so why would I help her? But that's exactly whose car I should be boosting. That's the one that the Lord cares about. The Lord knows I'll boost a hundred cars if I have to. What he wants to see is whether I'll boost the car of the person who's trying to do me harm. Because that is love.

Now I might do it because I seek the Lord. Because I know the Lord wants me to do it. If I do it for the Lord, can I still say I am showing my neighbour love by boosting her car? Well, maybe not. But then again, didn't the Lord tell us, "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me." (Matthew 25:40) So does it really matter, whether I do it for the Lord, or because I genuinely like my neighbour as a person?

Remember the greatest commandment:

"The first (commandment) is, 'Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.' The second is this, 'You shall love your neighbour as yourself.' These is no other commandment greater than these." (Mark 12:29-31)

So if you don't like your neighbour, serve them as you would serve Jesus Christ himself, with all your heart, with all your mind, with all your strength, for the love you bear the Lord, or at least for the love the Lord bears you.

And if you can't serve your neighbour even for the love of God, well, then thank God Almighty that even so you are saved, by grace, through faith.

Praise be to God, the Compassionate, the Merciful.

Year B, 4th Sunday of Easter (April 29, 2012)

·         Acts 4:5-12

·         Psalm 23 (1)

·         1 John 3:16-24

·         John 10:11-18

That's a good question John asks. "How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?"

And then he goes on: "let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action."

So, we're back again to my old leitmotif: do something. Do something material. Do something with the world's goods, to be of help to a brother or sister. Take what you have and give it to someone who needs it. If you have money, give it to someone who is poor. If you have time, give it to someone who is overwhelmed. If you have strength, lend your strength to someone who is weak.

Now you might say, if you're always giving your money to the poor, your time to the busy, your strength to the weak, and so on, they'll take advantage of you. If you share your home with the homeless, they'll trash the place. If you share your food with the hungry, there won't be enough for you.

Well, you're right. But so what?

Yes, whatever you give, people will ask of you until you have none left, and some more. And?

Is that not what Paul calls being "poured out"? Was not Jesus's life poured out for us? If you give until there is none left for you, what of it? Didn't many before you pour out even more? Not only in the church, but in revolutions, in labour action, in the civil rights movement, in suffragism, in non-violence, in war, in countless other ways?

The first line of this reading from 1 John was "we know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another." Are you asked to do this? In twenty-first century Canada, practically never. So couldn't you at least give of what you have until there is none left for you? Shouldn't you at least give that much?

It's dreadfully inconvenient, making oneself available to others. A person in a heavy power wheelchair asked me to help her through a door when I had a broken wrist. A person left a child with me for nine days and I didn't even have a bed to put her in. A person kept me up half the night for four days telling me her troubles. A person needed a prayer when he was drunk and I was supposed to be at work. To say nothing of my sponsored children in the Third World who need money I could really use for myself in a hundred different ways. To be perfectly honest, people inconvenience the crap out of me. I don't have the time, I don't have the money, I don't have the patience, I want to blow a big pile of cash on books and sit alone at home with a cup of expensive coffee reading them and ignoring the world.

And?

How does God's love abide in me, if I do that?

It doesn't. If I did that, the love of God would not abide in me. But it's really the other way around, isn't it? If the love of God didn't abide in me, I couldn't help others. I'd be too tired, too broke, too frustrated. And I am. I am tired, and broke, and frustrated. But by the grace of God, because the love of God abides in me, I can still help. I can keep on giving when I don't want to, when I don't think I even could. Not because of my merit, but because the love of God that abides in me will not relent. And not only I can do it after all, but I can do it all with a smile. Not I, but the love of God that abides in me.

What I do for my brother or sister, I do not do it myself, out of my own virtue, but by the grace of God. By the grace of God, I can. In fact, I could barely stop myself if I tried. When I see a brother or sister in need, the grace of God moves me to their help, whether I am tired, angry, frustrated or just terminally lazy. Does it take something out of me? Yes it does. But in the void left by what I have given, I find again nothing but the love of God that abides in me.

By my own merit I am nothing. But by the grace of God, through faith, I can give my brother or sister anything I have to give, and more. Give your life to God, and he will pour you out for your brothers and sisters. And why not? He gave you your life, and he redeemed it for you. Your life belongs to the Lord, and yet he gives you this choice: to let the spirit, the love of God, abide in you, and pour you out for Him and for his sheep, or not. And the Lord will not stand in the way of your choice, but remember again one of my favourite scriptures, Mark 8:34-38:

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."

Let the love of God abide in you. Let it pour you out to help your brothers and sisters. What have you got to lose? Your earthly treasures? You're storing up treasure in heaven.

For today's hymn we will sing #583, Take my Life, That I May Be.

Year B, 3rd Sunday of Easter (April 22, 2012)

·         Acts 3:12-19

·         Psalm 4 (3)

·         1 John 3:1-7

·         Luke 24:36b-48

Some days, the lectionary makes you wrack your brains for hours trying to come up with something somewhat coherent and didactic. And other days, the lectionary says exactly what you wanted to say, in so many words. This is one of those days. But to make it clear what the message is, we have to back-track a little in the Acts and start from 3:1 instead of 3:12.

One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o'clock in the afternoon. And a man lame from birth was being carried in. People would lay him daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate so that he could ask for alms from those entering the temple. When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms. Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, "Look at us." And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, "I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk." And he took him by the right hand and raised him up; and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. Jumping up, he stood and began to walk, and he entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. All the people saw him walking and praising God, and they recognise him as the one who used to sit and ask for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple; and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.

When Peter saw it, he addressed the people, "You Israelites, why do you wonder at this, or why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk? The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our ancestors has glorified his servant Jesus, whom you handed over and rejected in the presence of Pilate, though he had decided to release him. But you rejected the Holy and Righteous One and asked to have a murderer given to you, and you killed the Author of life, whom God raised from the dead. To this we are witnesses. And by faith in his name, his name itself has made this man strong, whom you see and know; and the faith that is through Jesus has given him this perfect health in the presence of all of you.

Let me read a third time what Peter said: "why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk?"

Notice that Peter and John never prayed over this man. Here is what Peter said to him: "what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk." It's not a prayer, it's a command. Peter doesn't even ask God anything, let alone tell God. He tells the paralytic himself: stand up and walk. It's not prayer that heals the man, and as Peter points out, certainly not his own power or piety. Now if Peter doesn't think he can heal people through prayer and piety, by what strange flight of fancy does any of you figure you can do it?

What heals this man, in reality? "What I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk." The paralytic beggar is healed the same way you and I are healed: by grace, through face. And I'm rather tempted to say "duh" because how else would Peter heal a paralytic? By works? How would Peter do that? He's only human. By asking Jesus with fancy canned formulae like "we ask this in Jesus's name"? He didn't ask Jesus anything. He commanded the paralytic in Jesus's name. He didn't compel Jesus with prayer; rather, Jesus compels the paralytic.

If you think you can heal people, then do it right. Do it like Peter did it. "What I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk." Can you do that? I can't do that. I guess I don't have faith the size of a mustard seed. I can't tell a terminal cancer patient "in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk." I can't get my dog to do anything in the name of Christ. And I'm quite sure neither can you. Now Peter could do it through faith alone; even he couldn't do it by prayer. So if you can't do it by faith, why do you think you can do it by prayer?

There is only once I know of that Jesus used prayer for healing, which was in the case of a boy with a spirit. When he was done, the disciples asked him "why could we not cast it out?" and Jesus answer "this kind can come out only through prayer." (Mark 9:14-29) It wouldn't actually have occurred to the disciples to try to cast out a demon by prayer. But even so, Jesus still commanded the unclean spirit, and it still depended on faith. Even Jesus doesn't do things by sitting on his hands asking his father. Being God himself, he can create what he declares, which is handy for him, I suppose. But still though he can anoint the patient with all kinds of grace, he also needs the patient's faith.

All right, so what is needed to heal is faith and the grace of God. Prayer? Not even. So how about getting people jobs, boyfriends, new houses, what not?

Good question. Because you know what, at no time in the New Testament does anyone miraculously get a job in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. Or a girlfriend. Nobody even thinks of asking Jesus for jobs and boyfriends. They ask for healing and casting out of demons. Nothing else. It just wouldn't even occur to anyone to bother the actual flesh-and-blood Jesus Christ of Nazareth to get them a job. So why are you bothering to pray for these things?

You can pray with your friends when they are afflicted. Use some psalms, or Job, or some other scripture they enjoy. Don't pray for your friend and tell yourself, much less tell them, that you're doing something productive. If you want to do something for your friend, then literally, do something. Prayer isn't "doing something." Neither Jesus nor Peter nor anyone else in the book uses prayer as a substitute for action. Pray with your friend, or do something for your friend. Don't confuse the two.

By the grace of God, through faith, someone may be healed, physically or emotionally. Not by your works or your prayers. Same with jobs, relationships, money, anything you can name, it will not come by your prayers. So if you want to help your neighbour, do something. Because it's simply not gonna get done by you harassing God about it. If Peter couldn't do it, neither can you.

Praise be to God, the Provider, the Withholder, the Eternally Besought, the Patient One.

Back to the wilderness

It's ridiculous how far behind I am. I've been getting really busy with worldly things, some of which serve the Lord, and some of which have a lot more to do with Cesar. So, I haven't been finding time to write sermons. Therefore, this weekend I'm making time. I'm not seeing anybody all weekend. Period. And I will continue spending my weekends in the wilderness until I am caught up on sermons.

Truth be told, I like it in the wilderness. It's peaceful and you can talk to God.