Walking Humbly - a reflection based on Micah 6:1-8 Mono Mills United Church January 29, 2017

This morning, we read a very familiar passage from Micah – and it just so happens it did come up this week in the lectionary – interesting that it falls on the Sunday that most churches have their annual meeting.

Many decades ago, a sociologist named Hans Mol wrote a book called “Meaning and Place”. It was a book which affected the study of churches and congregations deeply. Mol delineated the connection between places, and the meaning people attached to them, and how hard change can be.

In my student internship, in rural Alberta, I served the New Norway – Ferintosh churches – two churches in one pastoral charge but as different as could be imagined. New Norway, true t its name, was settled by Norwegians, nestled in a beautiful valley covered in evergreen trees. It likely reminded them of home. Ferintosh, on the other hand, was on the plainsland, and was settled by Scots. The Ferintosh family who proceeded to begin producing Ferintosh whiskey.

Closer to home, my settlement charge was Maxwell-McIntyre-Badjeros. Once again, three churches each 8 kilometres apart. Three towns settled early in Canada’s history – each with a hotel, general store, blacksmith, post office, church. Locals attended their central local church. And even the personalities of those churches – depending on whether or not their history was Methodist, Congregational or Presbyterian. Then something happened – the automobile. As cars and roads improved, and commitment to farming began to wane, these little towns gradually died. Maxwell, on a reasonably major highway, survives. The United Church is closed. McIntyre is no longer even a town. Badjeros is the only church of those three which has continued. It lives, because those who remained when the churches closed were able to drive there.

We get attached to our churches, and that’s to be understood. But like everything, there is a season. Rural churches which once thrived and served the surrounding neighbourhoods can no longer do that. While in our heads we recognise that, in our hearts it’s harder. We make a decision to come together as one, but we still have that emotional attachment to our ‘place’. It’s our church, and it holds a place in our hearts. As the world changes more, and we feel less secure, we tend to want to hang on to the meaning and the place.

Now, we’re a congregation of three distinctly different places – Adjala, Hockley and Mono Mills. And today we meet to set forward direction. We are a different church. The words of Micah speak to us in this time. God requires us to seek justice, to love compassion, and walk humbly. Put another way, we are asked to remember Holy Manners – that everyone will be heard with respect, and responded to with respect. It might mean we have to give up on something to which we’re clinging. So we all need to be heard, and we all need to hear. This is a process of discernment, in which answers might not come right away, and in which some things may not be avoidable. But we make a commitment to walk, humbly, together and wherever God may be leading – even if we can’t see the way very clearly. May it be so.

“People of Thunder” a sermon based on Matthew 4:12-23 January 22, 2017

Matthew 4:12-23
When Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in Galilee, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
  "Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned." From that time Jesus began to proclaim, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea for they were fishermen. He said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him. Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.

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In December of 1955, Rose Parks was arrested in Montgomery, Alabama for refusing to move to the back of a city bus. Leaders in the African-American community organized a city-wide transportation boycott, and turned to the young black pastor, Martin Luther King, Jr. as the leader. King was just 26 years old, and was torn by issues of call - to ministry, to discipleship. God called him to a vastly different ministry - and the rest is history. He became President of a new organisation called the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. He organised the great civil rights marches. He received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964. His call spelled the end of his life, figuratively and literally speaking.

January is Black History month, and in particular we remember the call of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, whose birthday was January 15, 1929. Had he lived, he would have been 83 now.

I’m going to take us this morning to a story we didn’t actually read, but one we know – Jonah, and the city of Nineveh.  God tells Jonah to go to Nineveh. Jonah says “no thanks”, takes a ship, and ends up as fish food – and in the dank, dark cavern of the fish’s belly he prays a doleful lament ("God-get-me-out-of-this-jam, selah"). Up to this point, Jonah’s trip has been a real “downer”. If you follow the Hebrew language, the writer uses the word for "down" to describe Jonah’s journey. Jonah goes . . .
Down to Joppa, down to the ship, down to the innards of the vessel, down into the sea, down into the belly of the fish, down to the land of death. Then the winds of destiny change. Jonah is now “up” on the beach, having just been dropped off by Moby Dick. And he goes up to Nineveh.
How would you feel if this happened next Sunday at church? Call to worship, hymns, and when when it comes time for the sermon, I tell you “In forty days this church will collapse to the ground. May God add his blessing to these words." Well, that is exactly how this reluctant prophet addresses the people of Nineveh. "In forty days Nineveh will be destroyed. The End." The end? What do you mean, "the end?" What’s the rest of the sermon?

We don’t actually know where this brief message came from - God says go and give the message that I will tell you - but nowhere in the entire story does God actually give that particular message to Jonah.

We have an interesting insight here that will shed even more light on this revival. The writer carefully uses the word, "Elohim" as the word for "God." Elohim is a generic word, the kind of word you use when you’re not too familiar with God. The people have never heard of Yahweh, but even before all the facts are in, they turn their lives upside down. To the last citizen, the people of Nineveh repent at once. They ‘hear’.

A couple of thousand years later, Jesus stands before the religious leaders - the equivalent of bishops, and Popes, and says "The people of Nineveh will rise up against this generation on judgment day and condemn it, because they repented at the preaching of Jonah. But someone greater than Jonah is here, and yet you refuse to repent."

Matthew tells us these first disciples immediately left everything to follow. With Matthew, everything happened immediately. What about James and John? Were they tired of cleaning fish and mending nets? Did they want to get out and see some more of the world? Did Zebedee go along with this, losing two thirds of the family fishing business?

James and John were first were disciples of John the Baptist first - they both held prominent positions among the Apostles. Jesus referred to the pair collectively as "Boanerges" (translated "sons of thunder") because of their temperament and impulsiveness. In the Gospel of Luke they wanted to call down fire on a Samaritan town for not being welcoming to them, but they were rebuked by Jesus. There was some sibling rivalry there, wondering who might be the greatest among the disciples, insisting one could be seated at the left and right of him in the Realm; and when Jesus questioned whether they could do what he was about to do, they very confidently answered: “We can”

Two fishermen. Jesus. "Follow me." "Immediately they left their nets." Peter and Andrew, James and John just drop everything and follow after Jesus on the whim of an invitation—given in fewer than twelve words? If we lock ourselves into thinking about this in terms of measurable time – chronos – I think we miss the point of the story. But what if Jesus wasn’t talking about ‘chronos’ time – as in chronology, calendar, clock, aging. The words were “The realm of God has come near.” ‘Kairos’ time, or God’s time.  Jonah didn’t want to do things on God’s time, even though in his heart he knew. Jonah ran. He tried to escape from what he knew in his heart.

Maybe the fishermen recognised at some deep spiritual level that this was Kairos time. The Gospel of Mark records Jesus using the word "kairos”. God’s time. So when he says “Follow me” he is saying “turn away from what you have been,and embrace this good news." Kairos time is God’s time - that is, the right time, a time in which your whole life is caught up in a moment, when everything crystallizes, and everything hinges on whether you say yes or no.

I wonder if, to each of us, there comes a time that is Kairos time - a time when we have to stand , over and against, saying yes to God’s time even if it means personal risk? Martin Luther King, the leaders of the civil rights movement, recognised that beyond a call to ministry, God called them into an unknown future. The civil rights movement was Kairos time - God’s time. The whole change from legal slavery to freedom, voting rights, education rights – came about because people of faith and good will recognised that they were facing a ‘Kairos’ time – God’s time.

This morning’s story is one of invitation - to open our lives to God’s time – despite what else we might have to do. This morning God stands among us calling out to us, and calling us out. This is about listening to your heart, listening for God, listening to God without having all the facts, without knowing, without being able to plan everything. It’s about being the “people of thunder” – the stubborn ones, the seemingly impulsive ones.

A colleague of mine, Tim Haut, is a Congregational minister in Deep River, Connecticut. Tim is a poet. Hear his words:

CALLED

We are called
to leave behind our solitary searching,
to put on that single garment of destiny -
the uniform of faithfulness -
worn by creatures great and small,
old and forgotten,
young and eager,
broken and bewildered,
spirited and set on fire:
sisters and brothers who share not race or tongue,
but whose hearts are claimed by love,
signed by a cross.
Our future is together, arm in arm,
finding healing as we heal,
knowing freedom in our forgiving.
We are the strangest travellers:
seeking no reward at trail's end,
As long as we know the joy of journeying with him.
We are called
Disciples.
We are called His.

Sources:
1. “God Wants to Save Whom?” a sermon based on Jonah 3:1-5, 10 by Rev. Thomas Hall
2. “Fishers of People” a sermon based on Mark 1:14-20 by Rev. Thomas Hall
3. Poem by Timothy Haut, Deep River, Connecticut. January 18, 2009.

4. The Brothers of Thunder by Rev. Frank Schaefer

“Waiting for God” January 15, 2017 Mono Mills United Church

Psalm 40 ^1-3 I waited and waited and waited for God.
    At last God looked and listened.
God lifted me out of the ditch, pulled me from deep mud.
  Stood me up on a solid rock to make sure I wouldn’t slip.
God taught me how to sing the latest song, a song of praise.

“God called me before I was born, while I was in my mother's womb he named me. Paul, called to be an apostle . . . to those . . . to be saints. John exclaimed, Look . . . the Lamb of God!And he two disciples . . . followed Jesus. Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, What are you looking for?”

I grew up a “preacher’s kid”, a ‘child of the pulpit”, daughter of a minister. Life in a minister’s household was less than exciting. Most often it was a pain, a burden. I remember one place we lived, where the manse was furnished with other people’s cast-offs, including a chair which had been used to burp babies – and was still covered with burp down the back. My mother re-covered the chair. The previous owner wanted it back. I remember my sister, an art student, arriving in church one Sunday with a large floppy hat and wrap-around coat – and the criticisms about the inappropriateness of her clothing in church. I remember the manse committee walking into the house one day, unannounced, while my mother was in the bathtub, and I was home from school sick. I remember the Session tracking us down in a campground in Cape Breton, because they couldn’t find the communion cups. Clergy then lived in glass houses and so did their kids. In many ways it has changed for the better – manse committees are now aware that if the minister is living in the house it’s a private residence and they can’t just walk in. Most people have learned that commenting on what someone wears is no longer legal regardless of who it is. As a young teen and young woman, I determined that one could live the teachings of Jesus without adhering to organised religion. I rejected the common understandings of God. I vowed that I would never become an ordained minister. Yeah – and here we are today. But I was 49 when ordained, and by then knew what I was getting into.

And yet. Long before that, I went to Japan to work for the church, I worked with refugees in Viet Nam, and with the YMCA International Refugee Services. I worked in church offices, and with aid and non-profit organisations. All the time, that energy or spirit which we call God was present – I just would not have named it that way. It was a long time before I realised that all those things were ministry, all facets of a calling.

In with other traditions within the Christian faith which follow a liturgy, we read through the Scriptures in a three-year cycle called the lectionary, which gives us what is intended to be a logical and organized life and ministry of Jesus, as well as texts which otherwise might not ever see the light of day. The readings chosen from the Hebrew Scriptures and the letters are intended to support or reinforce the story of the Gospels. Intended, although sometimes the connection is stronger than other; sometimes, the only link seems to be a word that appears in all four of the texts. Sometimes we’re hard pressed to find a link at all.

Amazingly, in today’s lectionary selection, the theme that connects them is about being called. However, today’s readings also make it clear that it’s not just certain people who are called, it’s all of us. And we learn four things about callings - they are before us, between us, beyond us, and around us.

“God called me before I was born,” is what the prophet Isaiah says about his calling. We may not be used to thinking in such terms, but if we believe that God is before us, behind us, around us, in us, and infuses everything in creation, then there is a calling to discipleship in each of us. The seed is planted. One of the ways we begin to learn about our calling is that when we tend it, it grows. The thing about a ‘call’ is that it is not always clear at first, it doesn’t get communicated in unmistakable words or a blinding flash of insight. Sometimes it’s something which on the surface seems small, even maybe ridiculous.

Even Paul had to take time to figure his calling. Yes, he had an Epiphany on the road to Damascus, but he still spent three years after figuring out exactly what he was called into; but a calling is not something we search for on our own, or find without help, or enter into alone. There are no “Lone Rangers” in the realm. Even Jesus did not discern the shape of his ministry entirely without help - a long lost, not to mention very strange cousin named John who was into a very ascetic sect called Essenes.  Neither did John. Neither Jesus nor John knew exactly what the call was. Both John and Jesus were part of a wider community in which their calls were tested.

Too often we spend time waiting around for God to do something spectacular. I don’t believe it happens that way for individuals, I don’t believe it happens that way in community either. In a sense the blueprint is already there – Jesus’ life and teaching laid out the blueprint for what we are called to do, and although we have formalised our faith into congregations and community, the blueprint is still there. The question is, do we acknowledge the call, do we embrace it, and do we live it.

Thomas Merton, O.C.S.O. was an American Catholic writer and mystic. A Trappist monk of the Abbey of Gethsemani, Kentucky, he was a poet, social activist, and student of comparative religion. In his essay ‘Thoughts in Solitude’, he said this: “My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

One of the things Jesus said so often, is that the realm of God is ‘at hand’. He used parable to describe how the realm is, what it is like. In every instance, there’s a parallel to actions taken by people. The realm isn’t going to “just happen”. To build the realm, in the here and now, is a calling which takes every one of us in whatever way we can. Does it come in one size, one structure, one way of doing things? Or does it mean we have to change how we do things, and embrace the change – fearful though we might be.

It’s that Epiphany thing again isn’t it? About stepping out on a different road, afraid, concerned, anxious – but swallowing hard, and being willing to walk with change. It tests our faith, tests our abilities, even tests what we think is our calling, and maybe forces us to re-navigate and re-negotiate, to go down some rabbit trails on occasion. God waits patiently for us. But if we wait for God to make something happen, it won’t. The dream, the realm, is at hand - together with God.

Sources:

1.      “Never Alone” sermon by Rev. Ken Howard.

2.      Thomas Merton “Thoughts in Solitude”. Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, publishers. 1905 Edition.