Oh Canada!!!!

Sometimes cleaning and reorganising space can be a strange experience. Decided to get rid of the huge rattan chair in the living room, to make room for all the plants Moved the large green whatever Himself bought into the corner vacated by the chair. In order to do that had to remove two things stuck in the pot - one, a plastic sign with goofy animals on it, which says "Welcome to our funny farm." It was given to me when I started at Glen Ayr United, and I cherish it. The second item was a Canadian flag. I honestly stood here and debated whether to keep it or toss it out. The Canada of today is nowhere near the Canada I remember growing up in. I was a baby boomer, post-war, lived on the prairies in serious down times for farmers, saw the beginnings of our Medicare system as it came to be in Saskatchewan; rubbed my tiny elbows with Tommy Douglas; shook hands in church with John Diefenbaker; got excited by Canada's role in peace-keeping, rather than war-mongering; demonstrated against the war in Viet Nam in Winnipeg - a march in which the police *joined*. Canada was well respected all over the world. When I finally did go to Viet Nam to live during the war, where people thought I was American - all I had to say was "Yanadai" (Canadian) and watch their faces break out into smiles as they replied "Canada Number 1 !!!!". Canada had a progressive policy for welcoming refugees from everywhere, and we tried hard to help them make a good life here. Didn't always work but it was an ideal. OK, so our aboriginal peoples have not fared well under any of our governments, right from the beginning. We've had some good governments and some not-so-good ones. Yet all of them were committed in one way or another to a vision of Canada as a model of social democracy, living next to a country which thinks socialism = communism = fascism. Today, we have a country bordering on dictatorship; our government is a collection of dishonest people who lie without compunction, and turn a blind eye to anything contrary they don't like. Democratic process and transparency don't matter any more; the *people* don't matter any more. Our Prime Minister reminds me of Richard Nixon, except ours is not only dishonest, he's a right-wing religious fanatic who will bring true fascism to this country if he isn't stopped. Norio and I have discussed, more and more in the last few years, if we really want to live in either country any more. Japan is going the same way as Canada, with constitutional changes which will make it a military power without restraint. So we look at Portugal, Spain, Finland, Norway - yet even those have their right-wing elements emerging. In the end I put my Canadian flag back into the pot beside the goofy little sign - I have to have hope that the people of Canada will wake up before we lose everything which made us the envy of the world, instead of the laughing stock we are now.

Good Morning, Sunshine

Good Morning, Sunshine!!!! Here in Toronto it's just one of those fabulous days that only the fall can bring. I took an Alaska cruise about six years ago, and the Captain - the stunning Bjorn Broch Johansen, started every morning with that over the tannoy - followed with "If you're not up yet, wakey wakey!!!" I won't tell you some of the things we thought of doing to Bjorn but couldn't, as he was the captain, after all. A very funny woman at the dinner table told him ever so quietly that he needed to be a little softer However, the more I think about it, the more I think it's a really good attitude to life. So hats off to Bjorn (wherever you are on the ocean today). Of course, it's easy when one wakes up and the sun is shining, the sky is blue and the day is beautiful. It's harder when the sun doesn't shine, it's pouring rain, or snowing - and life doesn't have the same optimistic cast as it does other days. Almost fifty years ago, I remember sitting in church listening to my father preach at Deer Lodge United Church in Winnipeg - one of his last sermons. He and my mother had just separated, and I was the only sibling left at home. He spent about three days in bed not talking or eating, and then on Sunday he got up and preached about life - that whatever life brings - whether death, great disappointment, deep hurt, disease or pain, that *life is good* and that we learn to appreciate how good it is as we struggle to cope with the deeply painful and difficult times. I don't think it's accidental that my father was a member of the Optimist's Club. He told me once that he thought I wasn't listening, and then at a Confirmation Class he suddenly realised I was indeed listening. One of the things left after Dad died was his membership plaque in the Optimist's Club. I think it's worth hanging on to, because life *is* good. No matter what it brings to us. In a world where so many have almost nothing, and we are privileged, life is good. All of it. 

Don’t Look Down!!!! A sermon based upon Matthew 14:22-33 preached at Leaside United Church, Toronto

There’s a wonderful scene in the movie Shrek, where Donkey is following Shrek across a wooden suspension bridge, over a deep pit full of lava, to rescue the Princess Fiona; Donkey is terrified of heights, and the bridge doesn’t look any too strong either. He doesn’t want to step out; Shrek tells him “You can do it, come on. Just don’t look down.” Donkey begins on the bridge, eyes squeezed shut, and saying to himself “Don’t look down, don’t look down.” and about halfway across he can’t risk peeking out of one eye, and he looks down – and of course suddenly panic sets in.

Well, today’s Gospel is a kind of “Don’t look down” story, isn’t it? There they are, disciples out in the boat, middle of the night, doing what Jesus told them to do, and a storm comes up. They are afraid. They see Jesus coming to them, walking across the water, which makes then even more afraid. Dear old impetuous Peter says to Jesus “tell me to walk on the water.” Jesus replies “Go for it!!” Peter climbs out of the boat, looking straight at Jesus, walking across the surface of the water; he looks down and realises what’s happening - and then he starts to sink.

Now, several of the disciples were fishermen. They had spent much of their lives out on the lake, knew that such squalls could come up quickly without much warning. All of that experience and knowledge did not keep them from being afraid as the wind howled and the waves crashed. Fear is the overwhelming emotion in this story. Fear of the storm, fear seeing Jesus walking on the water, first thinking it is a ghost.  Peter is afraid of going out on the water himself. 

In doing a little research on storms on the Lake of Galilee, I found some interesting things. I didn’t know, for instance, that the shallower the water, the more violent the wave motion will be. The Lake of Galilee is situated between two sets of mountains. It gets hot down near the lake, but in the mountains there is very cold air – and the resulting clashes will bring sudden high winds and rainstorms, and whip the lake into a fury. In the course of that search, and a story about the Edmund Fitzgerald sinking on Lake Superior; did you know that Lake Erie is only 200 feet at its deepest point – and the storms on Lake Erie are far more dangerous than storms on – say – Lake Superior where the water is deeper. When you have a moment to Google sometime, take a look at the number of shipwrecks in Lake Erie.

It seems to me that today’s story really has two parts - getting *in* the boat, and then getting *out* again. Jesus tells the disciples to get in the boat and go over “to the other side”, go on ahead, he will catch up. On the way to the other side, a storm comes up; crashing winds and waves, they are terrified of losing their lives; Jesus comes to them walking across the water and says “Ok, get out of the boat. Go for it.”

If we view this as a story about a miracle - something which completely defies the laws of nature - then the whole core of the story is lost; but if we view this as a story of faith, of real life, with many layers, then the lesson takes on different meaning.

Getting *into* the boat seems synonymous with being willing to explore faith. Getting *out* of the boat,  taking the risk of actually braving the wind and the waves – is called faith in action.What happens if we use the traditional interpretation of the boat as the church - our “nave” being the body of the ship? Then getting *in* to the boat means coming together in faith as a community,  and taking a journey – to a place curiously not specified, just “the other side”. Jesus says “get in the boat and go to the other side”. No specifics, just “the other side”.  Go somewhere - do something – use the boat to get you there. Jesus is elsewhere, doing other things, trusting that his followers also have trust and can be doing the work of the realm without him right there all the time.

So the little boat, the church, finds itself in the midst of a storm. Now, what is our natural response? Hunker down, of course, and wait for the storm to blow over. But there’s a major question; the disciples were fishermen, most of them – so did they spend all their lives in the boat, never getting out at all? Do we make our life inside the boat? Or do we get off from time to time and connect with the world around us.

In researching storms and lakes, I also discovered an early Jewish belief, that demons lived in the water, beneath the surface.  Now add *that* piece to the story, a cultural context which we don’t even know about, but which was Peter’s and the disciples’ context; once you add that piece, Peter’s willingness to step out of the boat is more than just faith, it also requires overcoming the fear of the things that lurk in the water, as well as the waves and wind which threaten. He’s doing fine, until he looks down, and starts thinking about the evil things under the surface, the possibility of drowning in this storm, of all things coming to an end, and his fear overwhelms him. He can’t keep his focus, he can’t hold Jesus in the centre, all the worst possibilities for what might happen overwhelm him, and he begins to sink.

Well, we in the church have specific ways of doing things, specific ways of being church, which have evolved throughout our history. We tend to think they haven’t - but in fact, even a cursory look at the church of a hundred, or two hundred years ago, demonstrates an institution vastly different than the church today. The church of two hundred years ago supported slavery of black peoples, supported the use of the Chinese as cheap indentured labour, believed in crushing an assimilating aboriginal peoples, believed that women could not provide adequate leadership. Hasn’t that changed? Our hymnbooks have changed. Several years ago in a congregation where I was music director, I was told “That last hymn – we don’t know that. Why can’t we sing the good old hymns?” and I thought to myself “Never say that to a church musician.” Two weeks later, a hymn was included which was a good three hundred years old. Same person came with the same comment “I didn’t know that hymn.” To which I replied “But you asked to sing more of the good old hymns.” There was a stunned silence, followed by “Ah. I understand. Very clever.”

Go back and look at the hymnbooks of 150 years ago. I guarantee you won’t know most of those hymns; they will be totally unfamiliar. Heavens, look at a hymnal in any European church – there are reams of hymns we don’t know and never will. Change happens, whether we like it or not. The way we have always done things is not necessarily the way things were done before our time, and I will stick my neck way out, and say that our personal comfort and happiness in church is not really the most important thing. Too many churches have gone under trying to keep everyone “happy”.  Many seem to think that the church is supposed to be here to provide a safe place which caters to our individual wants. I use the word wants on purpose too. We tend to confuse our needs and our wants. We don’t need the good old hymns, but they do make us feel safer because they are grounded in the familiar, when the storm outside the ship threatens us, and we are afraid to try walking on water.

Even  so, we want to challenge Jesus, as Peter did, to give us power to walk on water, and then when he says “Sure, go ahead, do something different, walk on the water. Put your belief where your mouth is.” we start thinking of all the reasons we can’t do it – there are big waves, if we look down we see all the monsters which will hold us back; and we sink.

One of the things I have enjoyed most here at Leaside is that the minister is not expected to do everything so that everyone else won’t have to do anything. It takes a lot of will and a lot of patience on the part of a congregation to move itself to being a community living in faith, and living out faith, together. Too many congregations want a minister who will do it all, so they can come and feel comfortable, and not have to worry about getting out of the boat. In another congregation I served, when the Session was in training to do pastoral visiting, someone commented “Pastoral care isn’t the role of the congregation; we pay a minister to do that.” My response was that if pastoral care is not the role of all the people, then don’t bother to come to church, because the message is wasted. Yes, we clergy can get snippy with people on occasion – but I do see that as our role sometimes: to comfort those who are truly afflicted, and to be a thorn in the side of those who are just too comfortable and don’t want to be disturbed at all. Jesus, if taken seriously, is a disturbing person and calls us to be disturbed as well.

Was Jesus really worried about the comfort of the disciples? Or did he say “Get out of the boat. Come on in, the water’s fine. Try something new, don’t sit there paralysed by fear, or wanting to live in oblivious comfort.”

 I remind you again - in this story, Jesus isn’t in the boat - Jesus isn’t here - Jesus is somewhere else, where the difficult stuff is..

One of my online colleagues, Rev. Thom Schuman, wrote this reflection:

What if we COULD walk on water?

What if we COULD end poverty in our time?

What if we COULD make a difference in our communities?

What if we COULD do exactly what Jesus keeps telling us over and over that we can do?

What if we COULD be bold disciples??

Marianne Williamson, author, lecturer and teacher said “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?" The real question should be, “Who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to manifest the glory of God within us...and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Jesus was probably saying the same to Peter - as you are liberated from your own fear you will also liberate others. This is what Jesus has called all of us to do and be. May we not be afraid to forego our comfort, not be afraid to step out of the boat, on to the water; not be afraid to look down; and still be able to walk on water. May it be so.

Feeding Multitudes a sermon based on Matthew 14:13-21 Preached at Leaside United Church August 3, 2014

When Jesus got the news, he slipped away by boat to an out-of-the-way place by himself. Unsuccessfully - someone saw him and word got around. Soon a lot of people from nearby villages walked around the lake to where he was. When he saw them coming, he was overcome with pity and healed their sick. Toward evening the disciples approached him. “We’re out in the country and it’s getting late. Dismiss the people so they can go to the villages and get some supper.”  Jesus said, “There is no need to dismiss them. You give them supper.”  “All we have are five loaves of bread and two fish,” they said. Jesus said, “Bring them here.” Then he had the people sit on the grass. He took the five loaves and two fish, lifted his face to heaven in prayer, blessed, broke, and gave the bread to the disciples. The disciples then gave the food to the congregation. They all ate their fill. They gathered twelve baskets of leftovers. About five thousand were fed.

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“And where is the little boy?” you ask. Well, that’s John’s version of this story. It’s interesting how we retain one particular version of a story, because it appeals to us – and forget that there are other versions, and forget that the Gospels are not all the same.

So today we’re working with Matthew’s version, which does not have a child sharing food, but only the disciples who have brought a little with them. The disciples, looking at what they have, realize there’s only enough for them. Jesus turns it into an object lesson of who is responsible for whom.

The crowds first appear after Jesus has gone among the people, teaching them and curing them of their illnesses. The crowds begin to follow him, listening as he speaks.  They follow him everywhere, and he continually has compassion for them, and teaches them and cures their ills. Jesus sees them as harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd, and he takes responsibility for them, becoming their shepherd. He teaches them, and continues to heal their sick. Most of the time they follow him of their own accord. Sometimes Jesus sends them away, but they always return. They joyously welcome him to Jerusalem, and then they come after him with swords and clubs at Gethsemane. Persuaded by the chief priests, they demand that Barabbas be released, and that Jesus be crucified. They have their moments of great faith, and they have their moments of great doubt and fear. They suffer, and they rejoice.

Jesus had his followers at his disposal, and Matthew tells us a crowd of about five thousand men. Do we seriously believe there were five thousand men, but no women and children? – so let say at least ten thousand if not more. Surely some of the men would have funds. The disciples, and the women who travelled with them, had money. But in this story Jesus turns the crowd into the ‘key player’.

During Jesus’ time, barley was the economy grade food of the day. Not the stuff that would be considered top‑shelf. A humble food, not very expensive. The bread of the people would be coarse, heavy stuff for everyday use. The terms loaves might also be misleading, suggesting something like our loaves of bread. I think it was much more likely to have been like pita bread or pancakes.

I am sure the disciples knew, as Jesus did, that there were people there who had plenty of food.  – and I can’t help but think of Paul’s letters to the Corinthians, where he chastises the house churches and the community meals;  the wealthy would hold aside their own food, or eat first before arriving, rather than sharing, because their food was better than that of the poorer people

Something else sticks out, too. Here’s a crowd of many adults, yet none of them, including the disciples, seems to be able to figure out how to get these people fed. Jesus does. When the disciples says “send them home before it gets dark so they can eat”. Jesus says – “No, you feed them.”

Some will say Jesus performed a miracle that day. I am inclined to say the crowd performed the miracle. Jesus simply offered everything there was, in faith. The people around him realised there was in fact a solution. Some of them, wealthier people who followed Jesus, had brought food. So had some of the poorer, - rough barley loaves made from the cheapest flour, and a couple of small fish. – yet when all the food was shared, there was more than enough. That was the true miracle. Jesus made the disciples use their heads.

I heard a comment this week, that the problem in the world isn’t poverty, it’s wealth. Sure, many wealthy people give generously - but if we took all the available wealth in the world what would happen. Everyone would have enough food; everyone would have shelter, education, medical care. Aids and cancer research would be funded for years to come. Hospitals would not struggle for funding, and would be able to attract the doctors and staff they need. What does it mean to “feed the crowd.”?

Jesus’ comment “You feed them” refers to more than food. Everywhere Jesus goes, people follow – to hear his words, to be healed, to be fed – not just the physical feeding – but a spiritual feeding as well. I find myself comparing this model to ministry today. We mourn the closing of churches, and yet I’ve known churches which took the feeding of people – physically as well as spiritually – as a community mission, and those congregations showed the result; I’ve known congregations which felt that all the feeding should be done by the minister, and that they had no responsibility for anything more than a bit of charity, and getting enough money to keep the doors open. “The minister is responsible for pastoral care, not the congregation.” was the comment. Yet when the disciples would palm off responsibility elsewhere, Jesus says “No, YOU feed them.” YOU do it. This is YOUR role.

Can you hear another time those words come up? Jesus asks Peter “Do you love me?” and Peter responds “Lord, you know I love you.” Jesus says to him “Then feed my sheep. Look after my lambs.” We have to take our place and our responsibility in the crowd. We have to find all the possible ways to feed the people who come looking for both kinds of food. Jesus did that for the crowd, pointed out to the disciples that it was their responsibility too – and the crowd became responsible for each other – and miraculously, there was enough food. Jesus taught, preached, and healed – meeting spiritual needs – and said to the disciples “You feed them as well.”

They seem so simple, these stories of Jesus. But they aren’t. Jesus always had a teaching moment – this is one of them. May it be so.

Sources:

1.      Loaves and Fishes – Sermon Based on Matthew 14:13-21 by Rev. Fran Ota

2.      Taking Our Place in the Crowd Sermon based on Matthew 14:13-21 by Rev. Karen A. Goltz

The Realm of God is Like……. A sermon based on Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52 Preached at Leaside United Church July 27, 2014

Remember the TV series called Touched by an Angel, which ran from 1994 to 2003? In one episode called “Netherlands” Monica the angel finds herself in conversation with Satan; she has become disillusioned with people, following the bombing of a building in which several people die; she despairs. Satan in this episode functions as the adversary, the one who encourages despair, trying to get Monica to give up on God, and the realm of God.

You turned your back on God – he says. She replies, I turned my back on humanity. The adversary replies “humans, maybe, not humanity.”

As he tries to convince her to abandon God, he says “Don’t think of me as the enemy, but the alternative. Remember, I know how it feels, I’ve been there too, I’ve been where you are.” Monica sees a vision of what might have been were she human – having children, a husband, love – a peaceful and fulfilling life, a vision of the realm of God. She feels as if she has lost it somewhere, and in a particularly poignant scene, in tears, she says “I don’t understand any more.”

We humans think of evil as strong because we perceive it as focused negativity, and that’s probably correct; in this episode of “Touched by an Angel”, the negativity is focused, but it is masked as the voice of reason which says “but I can help you understand”. The Adversary presents all the arguments against God’s realm, the destructiveness of humanity, the little voice which whispers into even an angel’s ear “I could do better – leave this, come with me, I understand.”  We think of good as unfocused benevolent feelings but without definite aims or goal, and that’s where Monica finds herself – a being called into existence to love with a goal, suddenly lost and without a goal, and unable to find God any more, and unable to see the realm of God, close at hand.

In some ways I think we’ve spent too long with ‘gentle Jesus, meek and mild”. Yet Jesus confronts us with a clear and definite challenge of the power of God's love as the basic element and goal of the universe; it is not the muddled and twisted notions of power we humans have, and continue to try to live out in bombing and war and violence, and political manipulations, and fear-mongering.  

In today’s text, Jesus says the realm of God is like a mustard seed that grows into a shrub, then a tree, so that the birds come and nest in it. To us, centuries and many cultures away from Jesus’ time, this seems like nothing at all. A tiny seed which grew into a tree and provided shelter for birds. How ecologically wonderful. Yet for the Hebrews listening to Jesus, it is an offensive statement. Nations compared to trees, just as we compare nations to animals. How can a shrub become a tree? Nesting birds are a sign of dirt and pollution, contamination. So we have Jesus really saying that the realm of God is not like earthly notions of power; what is small and despised becomes greater than what reality would predict, and those considered unclean or outcast come to make a home there.

In traditional Jewish culture, purity laws were and are extremely important – and Jesus spent a lot of time contradicting the purity laws when they were a hindrance to a vision of the realm of God. He says it is like yeast that a woman mixes with three measures of flour until all of it is leavened. Jesus compared God’s realm to a woman! That was offensive then, and would be considered offensive by some even today. The realm of God is like yeast? Yeast is considered unclean on holy days, and must be thrown out to maintain kosher purity – hence on high holy days unleavened bread only is to be used. So, Jesus said the realm of God is like something impure that permeates the flour and changes it. Three measures of flour makes about one hundred pounds of bread. Why would a woman make one hundred pounds of bread?

The realm of God is like a treasure someone finds in a field; that person sells all he has in order to buy the field. Does this sound right? Aren't we supposed to work for what we get? Is it right for someone to trespass on another's land, find a treasure, and then buy the land for the treasure? In Jesus’ time, there weren’t banks, although there were money lenders and changers. The acceptable and normal thing to do is to bury a great treasure somewhere to keep it safe. That was the acceptable thing to do. So what is the point? Is Jesus perhaps leading us into places where we can see that the treasure of heaven is greater than anything we could have on our own. The realm of God is like the pearl of great price. If we truly see the value of God's realm, would we do anything to possess what is so rare and precious. 

The realm of God is like a net that catches good fish and trash fish. The net of God is thrown wide to catch everything, and God will do the sorting. Jesus asked His disciples, "Have you understood all this?" They answered, "Yes." Jesus asks us, "Have you understood all this?" What do we answer?

Well, don’t worry. I don’t think the disciples really understood, because ideas of power and reality are turned upside-down and inside out and every human since almost the dawn of time has been misled about what power is, and what it is meant to be; misled about the nature of humans and the nature of God.

So what is Jesus really saying here? Does it need a specific explanation, that we can just walk away and say “Yeah, the realm of God is……?” This whole series of parables uses everyday objects… was that Jesus’ point… that the realm is not something lofty and ‘out there’, but present and down here, right at hand.                                                                                        

I think we’ve tended to take the easy road, and turn these parables into proverbs of some kind -  “big things sometimes have small beginnings” or “don’t judge something based on its size.” Makes sense on a superficial level, as each parable talks about something small – a mustard seed or a bit of yeast – blossoming into something much grander. Then we have to pull ourselves up short and remember that neither mustard seed nor yeast was viewed positively in Jesus’ world. Mustard was a weed, dreaded by farmers the way today’s gardeners dread kudzu, crabgrass. It starts out small, but before long has taken over your field. Similarly, yeast was a contaminant considered unclean for the high holy days, and was often used to represent the worst of evils.

So why compare the realm of God to a pernicious weed and a pollutant? Might God’s kingdom be like that – far more potent than we think, able to spread to every corner of our lives? If we consider that Sunday worship, or Bible study,  might lead to our lives being infiltrated, changed, and taken over by God’s reality, how do we feel?

Each of these parables might mean several things. Perhaps to some they may function as a warning: Be careful. People infected by the gospel have done counter-cultural things like sharing all they have, standing up for their values, caring for the underprivileged, and sharing their faith through action. To others they might serve as a much-needed word of encouragement: Hang in there! God’s realm is closer than you think, already changing your life. They might be a profound promise: Don’t be discouraged, God’s realm will prevail. In the face the senseless violence and anger of humans, we claim God’s peace. When faced with hate, we proclaim love. 

Several years ago, Starbucks Coffee launched a campaign called “The Way I See It.”, and various quotes from different sources were printed on the coffee cups. Let’s try an experiment – I want you to take the piece of paper you have, and a pen or pencil, and fill what the phrase “realm of God” or “Kingdom of heaven” means to you – and perhaps some of you will be able to share what God’s realm is to you…

When Bad Things Happen preached at Leaside United Church July 20th, 2014

Romans 8:37 – 39 (based on The Message)

I am absolutely convinced that nothing - nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable - absolutely nothing can separate us from God’s love because of the way that Jesus has embraced us all.

Revelation 7:17 The Lamb on the Throne will shepherd them, will lead them to spring waters of Life. God will wipe every last tear from their eyes.”

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This week the community of Leaside suffered a tragic loss, senseless in every possible way. A child of seven, crossing the street, was killed. Everyone, her family, those who knew her, those didn’t – was touched by the tragedy.  A family is in grief, a neighbourhood is in grief. Flowers, teddy bears, small handwritten messages from school friends – messages of love and memory has arisen on the corner. Even those who did not know the family came to lay flowers, to pray, to talk with others. A vigil was held Thursday afternoon, with the agreement of the family.

Israel invades Gaza, and although we are told civilians are not targeted, the pictures we see are children. A children’s hospital is destroyed. Families in grief, neighbourhoods in grief. Rockets go in to Israel, and other children die, more families grieve.

A plane is shot down; among the dead, 100 researchers on their way to an international conference on HIV-Aids which takes as many children as it does adults. A young medical student just starting his career is killed – and in Ajax a family mourns the loss of a child because of a senseless act.

It seems as if the world has gone completely haywire. For us, here, it’s on our doorstep. I don’t think anyone can say they are untouched or unmoved by the tragic loss of Georgia Walsh, a beautiful child with who knows what future might have been before her. The picture of that small little body in the street lingers. We can only imagine what her family is feeling, and what the driver of the car is feeling. No matter how strongly we believe, no matter how we believe our faith upholds us, there is a part of us which says “Why on earth?” and part which wonders, really, if God is real.

Each of us has to work through some myths about death. People will say, for instance, that time heals all wounds. I don’t think the wounds ever heal. We learn to live with the loss, live with the grief, but the wound remains open. Those parents, all of them, will always look around and expect that at any moment, the child will run in the door. Seriously questioning the nature of God is not unusual for people of faith.

Then there’s "let go of the dead child and move on with your own life." This was once a clinical understanding; in reality, lifelong grief is normal, especially in cases of the loss of children. Losing a child challenges a worldview; children are supposed to be hope for the future, and when a child dies, much of a person’s hope dies as well. Closure simply does not happen.

When we speak of the healing of grief, we are treating it as an illness which can be cured. It isn’t. Sometimes the grief gets harder and harder to deal with as time goes on. The first Christmas, the first birthday, summer vacations – things which open up fresh grief and questioning. There will be guilt – why wasn’t I there, I should have been, I should have done……the driver of the van will be questioning everything he is, and his guilt and grief will not end. Some parents will turn completely and permanently away from God and belief of any sort. Others will turn even more toward God, and some will struggle with both.

Another thing we often hear is “It’s God’s will.”, or “God is in control” or “God had a purpose in this.”. If such deaths – a child struck by a car, rockets and bombs killing innocents, a surface-to-air missile bringing down a plane – if such deaths are God’s will, if God somehow causes these things to happen for some obscure reason only God known, then God is not God – at least, not the God in which I believe. If God is in control, that’s the same as saying God deliberately caused all this grief, yet had the power to prevent it; it’s the same as saying God has the power to intervene and stop all war, all disease, all death – and God chooses to – instead – cause war, and disease, and death. I cannot and will not believe that is who or what God is.

Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote a book called “When Bad Things Happen to Good People”. In it, he says “I no longer hold God responsible for illnesses, accidents, and natural disasters, because I realize that I gain little and I lose so much when I blame God for those things. I can worship a God who hates suffering but cannot eliminate it, more easily than I can worship a God who chooses to make children suffer and die, for whatever exalted reason.”

“The painful things that happen to us are not punishments for our misbehavior, nor are they in any way part of some grand design on God's part. Because the tragedy is not God's will, we need not feel hurt or betrayed by God when tragedy strikes. We can turn to Him for help in overcoming it, precisely because we can tell ourselves that God is as outraged by it as we are.”

…and when a child dies because of a set of circumstances which just are, God weeps at the death. God weeps. God loves us, unconditionally, and wishes nothing but the best for all of us. One of the strongest statements of faith we have is our creed. “In life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with us; we are not alone.” Neither life, nor death, can separate us from the love of God. Thanks be to God.