Farewell but not 'Good-bye'

...And so we say 'Farewell' to Kenji. Although his time with us was relatively short (read 'too short'!) we have all been changed by the encounter. A lightning bolt takes only seconds to impart a great energy. Likewise, Kenji's energy has affected our congregations. We have been instructed to look inward for the tools needed not only to function but to flourish. He has sent us on a journey of discernment, of searching who we are and who we want to be as individuals and as congregations.

A committee has been formed to assess the features and requirements of our congregations and the search will begin for a new shepherd to lead our flock. There is also a task force in place to look at the United Church presence in the southwest region of Middlesex Presbytery that includes Appin and Glencoe. Perhaps a new vision will emerge, a new way of doing church, and we pray that we can be open to God's will for us.

We thank you, Kenji, for your wisdom, theology, technological wizardry, humour, friendship, leadership, and service, and we wish you well in your new charge. Peace be with you and your family.

sermon excerpts: "Journey On"

...
The Christmas story is of journey, from Nazareth to Bethlehem, from shepherd fields to a manger. There are wise men travelling, and another escape into the safety of Egypt. Jesus’ entire ministry was on the move. The missions of the apostles trace back and forth over the known Mediterranean world. So it is not a shock that our own lives are filled with transition, that the only thing we can count on is change.

With this change upon us, our time together is concluding, and we might agree that it has been too short, but at least we had this time at all. For a while, we journeyed together and we are changed for the encounter: the manse in Glencoe was sold, we’ve incorporated audio-visuals to supplement the worship service, broadened and enhanced work in the community through the ministerial association and Faith Fair events.

We welcomed university students from South Korea, confirmed some of our own, and watched the children, youth, as well as our parents and grandparents, even ourselves grow just a bit older – sometimes quite dramatically, sometimes not. We’ve commemorated funerals, weddings, baptisms and the special occasion of just an ordinary Sunday.

We have not solved the problems of too few people doing too many things to keep the churches going. We have not been able to break out of a financial practice of belt-tightening just to keep pace with costs. We have not satisfactorily addressed the issues and tensions of being congregations in relationship with one another. We have not claimed a bright and shining new vision for the rural regional network of southwestern Middlesex County.

But we have demonstrated enough foresight to strategize and try to plan. We’ve declared a willingness to see what might be possible. We’ve decided that things cannot continue the way they have been, that we don’t want to be circling the drain. We’ve expressed a desire for our church and faith to be life-giving and vital for its members and not just another series of tasks, meetings and grudging obligations.

It is in the chaos amid unknown futures, that God’s work happens best. In Genesis, the Creator fashioned the world from the chaos of swirling seas. The healing pool of Bethsaida was only effective when things were churning and agitated. The scripture from Hebrews speaks of suffering as a necessary evil of our existence, but promises deliverance by the divine one born to a human family.

...When the calendar flips to 2011, some may be hard pressed to see a bright future for the church. Some may remember that every journey has its peaks and valleys and that sometimes we need to move back for a time before we can move forward again. While the work of any particular minister may be a 9-day wonder, the work of a faith community is a generational enterprise.

No matter how we might measure the official length of our time together – an estimated 1278 days; 30 672 hours; 1.8 million minutes – I would hazard to say there has been depth and quality to what we have done here. Whatever seeds have been planted will need time and perspective before we might know the full story of what has happened here.

Until then, we pause this day to remember, honour and celebrate the time that we’ve shared with as partners in ministry in this place, we look ahead to the respective journeys that our lives will take and trust that our paths will cross again. It is into God’s keeping that we travel on, in faith, hope, peace, joy and love.

Christmas Eve service - Luke 2: 1-20

The kids are cute and a little predictable in the way they try to fit themselves into the story. We can figure out who is interested in fairies or astronomy, whose dad might be named “Mike”. Like any of us, they’re trying to find where they can fit into the picture. And despite the historical, cultural dominance of Westernized Jesus (blond hair, blue eyes), more and more people are focusing on the universality of Jesus: seeing him as from their own ethnicity and heritage or experience and identity.

But much of this is lost in all of pressure to find the perfect gift, to bake the perfect batch of goodies, to decorate the perfect homestead. We’ve become too distracted with fitting in with society’s version of what success and life should be. We’re trying to find where we fit into the artificial ranks of popularity, prestige and prosperity.

We gather tonight to put that aside for a few moments, to focus again on why this time is so special. The longest night of the year has passed; the days are getting longer. We celebrate the gift of life, of divine power that can come to all of us in ordinary ways.

The story of giving birth at inconvenient times or in unconventional places is not a new one. We have admired already the rise of an individual to greatness from humble beginnings, of the underdog winning over insurmountable odds. These are themes and plotlines that are common to our history.

What is different, what is unique, what is so compelling is not what we might use to put ourselves into the Christmas story, but the realization that the Christmas story is already within ourselves. When God came to earth as an infant, to journey among us, with us, as us, faith shifted from what the high priests could do on our behalf, to what our own spirit might be able to do and be. The quiet voice of our conscience, our gut feeling about a person or a situation, the first instinct of reaction is where eternal wisdom, knowledge and truth may be found.

And that may be as good a sermon message that I would want to finish with, from this pulpit – except I have some more to add. It is bittersweet that this celebration of Christmas is marred by the fact that this is my last service in this church as minister. But that is life, too. Gathered here in the congregation, mixed with the energy and excitement of Christmas’ arrival and birth is the sadness, regret and uncertainty of death and loss.

Back in Jesus’ family tree, we can trace the lineage back to a Moabite woman named Ruth who had married a son of a woman named Naomi. If you remember this story, you know that life turned rather nasty for them when their husbands died. Naomi decides to return to her hometown of Bethlehem and her daughter-in-law Ruth accompanies her. Upon her return, Naomi declares that her name be changed to “Mara” which means “bitter” because life has treated her so horribly.

I mention this because there is some scholarship that thinks that the name “Mary” is a derivation from the name “Mara.” There is much that is bittersweet in the nativity story. For Mary: a young teenager, giving birth far from home, no family support, no midwives, so much fear and anxiety. For Joseph: a conflicted husband, trying to support the birth of a son that was not his, alone with his labouring wife, no one at 911 to talk him through the delivery, so much fear and anxiety.

This was the end of their life as they know it. From this point on, their life was not their own. Not only was there worry and uncertainty about raising an infant, of colic, ear infections, and every fevered cry, but this was the Saviour, God incarnate. As much as everyone was happy at the safe arrival of a baby boy, the pressure and anxiousness must have put a bittersweet flavour on the proceedings.

Yet, Mary rejoiced, treasuring the memories and stories of shepherds and angels. She had a ministry of motherhood; this was her clear focus and purpose, and that resolve was a comfort. She knew her goal and vision was the care of the child, that she could do. If she let herself get caught up in matters of Christological implications of an incarnational avatar, then all would be lost. By concentrating on who she was and what she could do, as a mother of a son, wife of a husband, citizen of Judea, God’s will would be done.

sermon excerpts: "God with Us" - Isaiah 7: 10-16

... I’m going to tell a secret that I hope will not shatter your belief in the Christian tradition and understanding of the Messiah. Isaiah was not speaking of Jesus the Christ when he made his prophecy here. The young women who is with child and bearing a son? One of Ahaz’s wives. The child? Hezekiah, who not like his father, would be born and would grow to be a noble and caring leader.

Which is reassuring that the hope and promise of our children will lead us into the right path. Such is the trust that we’ve place in our children today – that they will know right from wrong. God is with us, in the next generation. We put our faith and hope in the next generation, in people that are not yet born, or not yet known to us.

It seems that it is in the future, in the time to come, that our saviour comes. Even for one who would know right from wrong, the ideal is always elsewhere. Such seeking is magnified when we assign messianic expectations to such words. But Isaiah was just stating the promise and hope in a son to exceed his father. And don’t all parents want that for their children? Not to make the same mistakes, to be better than inherited shortcomings, to build upon and succeed beyond what the first generations could not do?

Which might be why Ahaz is so reluctant to hear what it was that Isaiah was going to say. Maybe he liked the idea of a saviour, of deliverance from enemies and oppression, but only in the abstract. Because in reality, such a promise would be mean drastic change and upheaval in his life. He governed through power and might, using side deals and relying on the greed and self-preservation of others to get what he wanted. He did not have the principles of justice and fairness in mind, because he did not want to be treated like everyone else. He was the king; he deserved special treatment and special privileges. To have God with us would mean that he would be exposed as the villain that he was, a sham, a puppet of corruption and a self-centered power monger.

... So what if Hezekiah wasn’t divinely conceived, wasn’t born in a stable under a star? That doesn’t diminish the worth of who he was, or the religious reforms he brought in to undo the work his father Ahaz. King Hezekiah put the kingdom of Judah back on the right track. It’s a comfort to know that a normal, ordinary person like him was able to do such great work. He was not the Christ, not the Saviour. He didn’t have miraculous powers or abilities. Just like each of us, living our lives as best we can, doing as much as we can for as long as we can, trusting that God is with us.

If that’s the lesson that our faith can give, that all our weeks in Sunday School, the efforts of our parents, of our community, is that God is with us. In our life, in our triumphs, in our sorrows, in celebration, in grief, in the face of change on the way, from the beginning, to beyond our end, we carry the name Immanuel: God with us. Our New Creed is based on this notion – we are not alone, God is with us. Thanks be to God.

sermon excerpts: "This Desert Life" - Isaiah 35: 1-10

Isaiah presents such an inspiring image because the reality of what he and his people were living was so miserable. King Ahaz was corrupt and evil, the land was overrun by enemy armies, families were divided and there was no reason for hope. Maybe because things were so bad, the prophecy was so good.

At my exit interview with the Ministry and Personnel Committee, we discussed a number of topics regarding my time with Glencoe-Appin Pastoral Charge and wondered about the future. Some things can’t be sugarcoated and most people would see that it looks bleak. I’m not eloquent enough to match Isaiah’s vision for this community, but I will be bold enough to make some practical connections to an ancient dream.

All those things he mentions happen in the future, the temptation is to wait and see if the promised glory will arrive and to grumble when it doesn’t. Everything that is mentioned is set in the future. Except for one set of verses.

"Give strength to hands that are tired and to knees that tremble with weakness. Tell everyone who is discouraged, 'Be strong and don't be afraid! ..."

Are these more of the prophetic vision, or requests to God to do these things, to strengthen failing hands, make sturdy weak legs, offer encouragement to those with fear and anxiety? Or is it a call for us in the here and now to do those things. We have the ability to do that much and I don’t mean orthopedic surgery or antidepressants.

When we help others, ease pain, offer help, we make the conditions right for personal strength and wellness of body, mind and spirit. Much of what Isaiah is speaking about is making use of what is available and extending that beyond to new ways and places.

The seaside plain of Sharon, the lush, mountain-effected rains in Carmel and Lebanon were famous pockets of abundance and growth. The conditions were right, moisture in the air from the Mediterranean Sea rained on the leeside of the mountains and the coast made for fertile land in a desert nation. To this day, freshwater rights and distribution is an underlying but significant aspect of the conflict between Palestine and Israel. The desert could bloom; we have the irrigation technology to do so. It is a matter of making the political and economic conditions right for such an effort to be made.

Closer to home, the conditions are ripe for something big to happen in our churches. In addition to my departure in the coming weeks, there is change approaching all around us [with a number of nearby congregations facing upcoming vacancies in the next couple of years].

There are many balls up in the air, and the conditions may be right for some real and significant solutions to be found. Middlesex Presbytery and London Conference staff will name the southwest Middlesex area a priority for this reason. With great flexibility and adaptability possible, casting the rural regional network a bit farther afield, a new plan that is a genuine solution and not a band-aid strategy could be made.

There is the possibility that everyone can keep their own buildings, there is discussion of new configurations and relationships, of ministry teams with clergy, lay ministers and lay worship leaders serving a broad geographic area. But the expectation is that each congregation will contribute to the solution that would work best for them, and others.

Isaiah puts forward a promised return to Israel, the northern kingdom a sure and safe passageway, guaranteed that even fools could find their way. Such a vision was another prediction set in the future, and eventually the northern exiles did come home. Maybe the conditions are right for such a journey to happen again: the communities of God’s people would find assurance and protection as they move forward in the desert of our time, finding pockets of life and sustainability. May it ever be so. Amen.

A Last Letter

The epistles of the Bible remind us that ministry is a transitory endeavour; people drift in and out of our lives and communities, imparting lessons and sharing experiences, before moving onto different adventures. Such is the place where we find ourselves now as the new year will have me moving to Calvary United Church (no, not Calgary) in London (no, not England). Which was a development that came together rather quickly and unexpectedly this past summer, but was an opportunity too good to pass up.

In the transition time since July, I have been very careful keep focused on the work and ministry with Glencoe-Appin. I have no idea what my new office is like and will meet the rest of the staff team later this month. In return, I will be conscious about maintaining boundaries and keeping a professional distance from the goings-on here once I arrive at Calvary.

One of the things I that I will miss is the community-minded focus of the congregations. I appreciate the cooperation through the Ministerial Association and the strong support of one other, regardless of denomination. So I think it is very fitting that in this spirit, any pressing pastoral care needs that might arise in the new year will be accommodated by my colleagues and friends in the ministerial.

As for what else is to come, the mood of Advent is quite appropriate. Jesus of smalltown Nazareth, son of Mary and Joseph, was born into a time of anxiety and worry about what the future will bring. In a downtrodden and despairing society, no one expected that his life would change our relationship with God and life and death. It is a similar uncertainty that our congregations face.

Currently, the conditions are ripe for some meaningful and significant ministry strategies to blossom. There are upcoming vacancies in nearby congregations combined with a longstanding history of cooperation among the “rural regional” network, and commitment from Presbytery to work towards a viable and vital United Church presence in this area. It is this advent of church work and visioning that needs your ideas, opinions and trust!

As for now, we remember the arrival of the Christ Child, contemplating what it means for God to be with us. Christmas Eve worship is at Trinity United Church, 7:30 and my final act as minister with Glencoe-Appin will be a joint worship service at Appin United on Boxing Day morning at 9:45 a.m.

I’m not so great with good-byes, because part of me knows that the world is a small place and that our paths will cross again. Thank you for the way you welcomed and supported my family and I; you have been a blessing for us. May the fullness of the season, hope for the future and courage for the journey will be yours.

In Christ’s love,

Rev. Kenji Marui