sermon excerpts: "Hearth and Home" - Luke 10: 38-42

Jesus is on the road, heading towards Jerusalem. As you might recall from a couple weeks ago, he’d instructed 70 (72) of his followers to go into the nearby towns and villages, to prepare his coming, relying only on the hospitality of those that would receive them.

Here we are now, Jesus is visiting with his friends Mary and Martha, accepting their hospitality and kindness. Martha is busy tending to the details, harried and hurrying to see that things are just right. After all, it is her Lord and Saviour that is gracing her humble home. He deserves the best.

Jesus surely would know that meals and lodging don’t magically appear, there’s a lot of work that goes on behind the scenes. If he was any kind of church leader (and actually, he wasn’t because the church came into existence long after this home visit) he’d know how important the work of women is. He doesn’t seem to notice or care.

He criticizes Martha for being so industrious. Or maybe she has her priorities misplaced. It’s a blunt way of Jesus telling her, the housework will always be there, it will never be finished. Take some time now, while you have it, to spend it with people instead of chores. Enjoy the company you have while they’re still here.

In this way, sister Mary has chosen the good thing. She now has the memories and teachings and stories that they’ve shared. We all know how quickly time passes, (how did we get halfway through July?), and how often do people wish they had picked more flowers, spent more time with family and friends?

So, good for Mary; she got it right. It seems rather unlike Jesus to wade into a family feud and take one side against another. It’s out of character for him to choose between two friends. Usually he’s more gracious and giving, if not diplomatic.

Perhaps the point is that busy and active Martha shouldn’t have tried to get Jesus on her side. Would it not have been more appropriate to speak directly with her sister about the issue? Although, I warrant it was a conversation that they’d had many times before so maybe Martha thought there was no point in retreading an already well-worn conversation. She appeals to an authority and is found to be at fault – adding insult to injury!

Martha was trying to make Mary into something she wasn’t by publicly coercing her. It’s something as parents that we try not to do to our children, but it happens despite ourselves (or more truthfully, because of ourselves). We project ideals and characteristics that we think our children or friends or siblings or co-workers should have. Then we get upset when those traits are not exhibited, when the other person as the nerve to be who they are and it’s not what we think they should be!

So it’s an enormous act of trust that we allow our children to grow up to be who they are and not who we think they should be. This does not mean that we don’t offer words of suggestion or advice to family and friends when we think they need to hear our viewpoint. We just need to remember that we cannot change someone else; profound and authentic change needs to come from within.

It would be nice if Mary helped out her sister, in the same way the church needs to be active and engaged in the needs of the household. But it is up to Mary to make that choice, not Martha, not Jesus, and for that moment she has chosen the better way.

The world and the community, the coming kingdom of God, needs both Marys and Marthas, contemplative be-ers and initiative do-ers. But above all else, God wants us to be us, our best selves, and that will be the better part, the right thing.

sermon excerpts: "Roadside Assistance" - Luke 10: 25-37

When we don’t help someone, it boils down to a few things: not trusting in the viability of the situation, not trusting the real plight of the victim, or not trusting in one’s own abilities. And there are also the real reasons of being too busy, or just not caring. We’re pretty good at finding excuses and reasons to explain our behaviour.

Here we have one of the parables that is pretty easy to interpret and the message is clear. Our neighbour is anyone we meet who is in need and we are to show God’s grace and extend Christian love in our response. When it comes to respect, dignity, compassion and charity, minor considerations like race and religion have no merit.

The Samaritan is the one who acted as a neighbour to the wounded man. He took time and money to see that he was OK. He had no expertise or training, just a willingness to set aside his own agenda and timeline. Of the 3 passersby, he had the most reason not to stop and help – being so far from home, in a country where his kind of people were treated with suspicion, fear and hatred.

The basic message is simple. Treat others as we would want to be treated ourselves. The details of the entire encounter between Jesus and the lawyer have just as much meaning for us in a changing, multi-cultural world.

The lawyer, the teacher of the Law, after being shown up in a scriptural showdown of Deuteronomy and Leviticus was trying to find a loophole. In wanting to know who his neighbour was, there is an unasked question of who isn’t my neighbour? Who don’t I have to love? Where can I draw the line?, because loving everyone is going to take far too much time, energy and money!...

Instead Jesus answers with the parable praising the efforts and mindset of the Samaritan. The story begins with the Greek phrase anthropos tis, meaning “some guy” was travelling from one city to another. Jesus is generic in his description, deliberately so. When he refers to “some guy”, he means any one. You. Me. We don’t need to know this character’s social status, skin colour, income level, sexual orientation, religious denomination, family connections, or proficiency with a soccer ball. He is deliberately descriptionless because we cannot put limitations or labels on who is our neighbour and who is not.

But that is not how Jesus answers the question. He doesn’t conclude his parable by saying, that poor guy, beaten up on the side of the road is our neighbour and you should help him. No. He instead asks the question, “Which of the passersby acted as a neighbour to this man?”

The emphasis shifts. We can no longer look at people and judge if they qualify to be a neighbour worthy of my aid or not. We have to look within ourselves to see if what we do and say is worthy of being a neighbour to the people know and meet. The onus is not on others to meet our standards but for us to act as a neighbour to others.

That is an important a life lesson as the great commandment to love others as we love ourselves. We can only control who we are, how we are and our own actions. Sure we can complain as much as we want about other people, our neighbours, our rivals, our enemies, but such behaviour only distracts us from the only place where real change can happen: within our own selves.

The Samaritan did not make any excuses, did not dwell on the shortcomings of the man lying injured on the road, but gave of his time and money, and acted like he was a neighbour. Let us go and do likewise.

sermon excerpts: "Seventy(-two) with 0" - Luke 10: 1-11, 15-16

Parker Palmer, founder of the Centre for Courage and Renewal (what if there was a church like that?) speaks of “functional atheism” - I know I’ve mentioned it here before, and it’s readily in my mind because I suffer from it on occasion. That we act like God doesn’t exist when we think we’re the only ones who can do the work. If we don’t trust that others have gifts and talents and abilities equal to, or even greater than our own, if we think we’ve got the only answer, if we’re convinced no one else could do the job, we ignore so much of what God has created. In this manner we function like atheists. ...

Jesus himself demonstrates that he cannot do things alone. He needs in the input and involvement of others. 35 (or 36) teams of 2 headed into the towns and wilderness. They went to the places where he would be going. They went to lay the groundwork, prepare the foundation, blaze the trail, pave the way.

They would go, and they themselves were hardly self-sufficient, relying entirely on the kindness of strangers. Without provisions, supplies, or a change of footwear, they hit the road offering they only thing they had left: peace. If was accepted, they stayed. If it was not welcomed, they left, going so far as to shake the dust off of their feet – so that they leave with nothing of that place, not even a speck of dirt.

As communities of faith, how then might we be welcoming to a greeting of peace? How do we show hospitality, care for the strangers, for those who do not have anything, for those who are in need of shelter, food, a change of clothes? To grow the church, Jesus sent these teams of people into cities, towns and villages to see which of them were ready to be the church.

His call and instruction was for the disciples to go out into the world, and then go even further out beyond that. They were to spread out and tell the story of wonderful love, tender and true, that Jesus loves me, and saved a wretch like me. The word needed to be shared, preached and taught.

So by the same token, when the call to move onward comes, one can’t ignore it figuring that God’s greatness will compensate for our inaction. It may sound like I’m preaching out of both sides of my mouth – relax, God’s mission is bigger and more important than any of us; but get out there and do your part because God needs us.

And that is the delicate balance that a minister in our time and tradition needs to navigate. I am wearing sandals, but I am not wiping any dust from my feet. I have found the churches and communities to be incredibly hospitable, receptive and accepting to the greeting of peace.

...

We see the movies where the aliens arrive and come in peace, but we know that they really don’t. It’s always breaks down into suspicion and conflict and intergalactic warfare. What a world it would be if we could trust each other’s word. So we spend our time in relationship and community to see what is what, who is who and how best to get along and get things done.

We live in times that feel like we, as a faithful people of a church congregation, are like lambs in a world of wolves. Amid G8 and G20 powerbrokers gathering for high class, international hobnobbing or Black Bloc and violent demonstrators forcing their objection into the headlines of media outlets, we find it hard to connect. Our simple message of love one another, treat each other with kindness and compassion, seek the divine in ordinary things, pay attention to your family, these simple messages can’t compete in the competitive kingdom of gadgetry and brand name recognition.

Yet we continue to gather on Sundays, we still seek God’s Word, we try to live as best we can. We may not tread on scorpions unharmed, or cause Satan to fall from heaven, but we do find joy in doing God’s work. Here, in the living of our faith it is not reveling in the power over evil, of rejoicing at another’s expense, but in being of right relationship with a hope of peace, an air of welcome and hospitality, and moving onward from there.

Even More News

Last Wednesday evening, I informed the Official Board of my request to Presbytery for "a change in pastoral relationship", effectively tendering my resignation as minister with Glencoe-Appin Pastoral Charge as of January 1, 2011. Yesterday, I announced this news during worship to those assembled.

I cannot yet disclose details about where I will be going at that time, but once further meetings have been conducted and motions approved, everything will become public knowledge then.

It was a difficult (and somewhat surprising) decision, and rotten timing on my part, but I hope you understand that such opportunities rarely present themselves and I could discern God's nudge in the process.

In the meantime, for the next six months, I am committed to the work of congregational care, visioning and action with Trinity and Appin United Churches - and as a friend suggested, perhaps my leaving will allow for even greater possibilities to emerge for a new future ...

All this amid our discussion regarding union of our two separate congregations into one. Such are the winds of change, and they are gusting it seems.

"Peace be on this house. The Kingdom of God has come near."

Blessings always,
Kenji