'Stones and stories': sermon for Easter 5A

Oh dear... could try harder.  Was so *not* in sermon-writing mood...in the end, just a lot of thoughts desperately in search of a sermon - with a little Manicheism thrown in for good measure...Augustine would be most disappointed :(

Nevertheless, a sermon, of sorts, based primarily on the 1 Peter text.

1 Peter 2:2-10 and John 14:1-14

Tell me the old, old story

of unseen things above,

Of Jesus and His glory,

of Jesus and His love.

This last week, I’ve been thinking about stories...

and I’d quite like to do a wee straw poll with you:

what are some of your favourite stories? 

[allow folk to respond] 

But what’s all this business about stories got to do with our bible passages, I hear you ask...

And that’s a very good question! 

Last week, we thought about the question:

'what is the Church...?'

We looked at the very beginnings of the Church, as described in the Book of Acts,

and we were reminded that the Church... is us...

the people of God, called into community -

a learning community;

a worshipping community;

a sharing and supportive community;

a community of thanksgiving and praise.

This week, developing the theme a little more as we heard the reading from 1^st Peter,

we’ve another aspect to add, which is:

a story-telling community.

In this, I’m very much thinking of Peter’s description 

of the followers of Jesus as ‘living stones’ -

‘come to the Lord, the living stone...

come, as living stones’

Stones and stories - what do they have to do with each other?

Let’s first look at the context in which this letter is written.

Within the letter itself we have an idea of the intended, original audience:

in Chapter One, the writer,

who may or may not be Peter,

addresses his readers as

‘God’s chosen people who live as refugees scattered throughout the provinces’ of what we refer to as Asia Minor.

The term ‘God’s chosen’ appears several times throughout the letter -

an encouragement for folk who appear

to be not only refugees, but along with that, scattered - or separated - from home, family, the larger body of Christians.

Following the opening greeting, the writer begins to talk of ‘trials’ and ‘sufferings’ -

there’s the possibility here that this wee, scattered lot of people are suffering persecution for their faith.  However, this might just refer to the difficulties of following Jesus, and how that impacts upon the general customs and culture of the day.

Within the letter, the writer also gives some practical tips to assist with living life as a follower of Jesus.

Overall, the aim of the letter is to encourage and affirm these ‘chosen’, possibly persecuted refugees... to assure them that:

• there is a point and purpose to their lives;
• that they’ve been liberated from darkness into light;
•  that they are part of the body,
• that they belong to God and
• that they can rely on God, who calls them His people...‘living stones’.

Stones...and stories:

The stone metaphor is an odd one:

stones are more associated with...

well, just ...

sitting there being rather lifeless...

but here in our reading,

each stone is infused with the Spirit of God -

alive - active:

these stones live...

not unlike dry bones, in a dusty valley, also live, once God’s Spirit breathes upon them, remembering that passage from several weeks back from Ezekiel.

But whether bones, or stones,

God brings life - even when it appears unthinkable, impossible...

but then, God managed to roll away a stone

from a tomb

and out sprang the promise of resurrection and new life:

Jesus -

the stone that the builders rejected -

the living stone...

With God,

all things are possible, even living stones...

living stones that have a story to tell.

Stones and stories:

if these living stones could speak,

what would they say?

1^st Peter provides some clues.

The living stones, God’s own people, have been:

'chosen to proclaim the wonderful acts of God, who called you out of darkness and into his wonderful light...’

Living stones;

story-telling stones.

As I read about stones and of ‘proclaiming God’s wonderful acts’, I couldn’t help but cast my mind back to Palm Sunday...

the crowds are being gloriously, riotously cheerful - it irks the Pharisees, who complain to Jesus

and ask him to tell the crowd to be quiet.

His joyful response?    

‘I tell you, if they keep quiet, these stones would shout aloud!’

So then, our Peter passage is not the first time we encounter the possibility 

of lifeless stones becoming living stones -

story-telling stones.                                                     

A story that hints at our communal identity -

who we are...

and, whose we are.

But what is the story?

In the words of the old hymn:

Tell me the story slowly,

that I may take it in,

That wonderful redemption,

God’s remedy for sin.

                                                                          

Redemption: it’s one of those big theological words that gets pulled out, 

and dusted off, every now and then.

It’s a word most often associated with what happened to Jesus on the Cross

and how it impacted upon the whole of humanity.

And over the course of centuries,

theologians have been at it hammer and tongs trying to work that out.

Stones and stories:

One of my favourite writers, Paulo Coelho once commented 

that when all was said and done, there were really only four themes when it came to stories:

a love story between two people,

a love triangle,

the struggle for power,

and the story of a journey.

In a sense, the story the living stones tell is a combination of these four themes...

the love story?

- of God for humanity;

the love triangle?

- the alluring whispers of a serpent in a garden;

the struggle for power?

- between light and dark, goodness and evil;

the story of a journey? -

exile from the garden, and the long journey back to that first love,

the journey back to God...

But also, another journey -

God’s journey - involving the vulnerability of incarnation:

of becoming one of us

to show us the way

in and through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus

It is a story of pain and sacrifice,

love and separation

redemption and reunion - for love always wins.

This is the story that God’s living stones proclaim.

Gathered together here, as God’s people,

as his living stones,

each one of us comes with our own story

- of whose we are ... family ties, connections, relationships;

of where we’ve come from,

where we are,

and where we hope to go

as we journey along our life’s path...

Each story different, unique...

and yet, as we gather together as God’s people,

each of us shares in a common story:

the story that brings us here today...

The story passed down to us by the living stones of the church 

going all the way back to the very earliest living stones...

All of us, church visible and invisible, building a spiritual house 

'where love can dwell and all can safely live.'

As God’s living stones

as God’s story-telling stones,

how might we tell the story?

How might we proclaim the marvellous acts of the one 

who has brought us out of darkness into his marvellous light?

How might we live God’s story in our lives this week?

How might we:

Tell out the old, old story,

tell out the old, old story,

Tell out the old, old story,

of Jesus and His love.

Let’s pray:

Holy God, we give you thanks
for the gift of Your Son, Jesus
the Word, the way,
the truth, 

the living stone,
who expands our
limited understanding
with outstretched arms
of love.

As your living stones

breathe your Spirit upon us

renew us

refresh us

excite us

that we may go out into your world 

to proclaim your marvellous works.

In Jesus’ name

amen.*

*prayer borrowed and slightly added to, with thanks to RevGals!

'One heart, one love': sermon for Easter 4A based on Acts 2:42-47

Acts 2: 42-47; John 10:1-10

Let’s pray:

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, 

O Lord, our strength and our redeemer.  Amen.

As the poet, John Donne, famously wrote:

‘No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
...A part...

of the main.’

In our gospel text this morning, Jesus talks of coming 

that we might have life in all its fullness - abundant life...

And, as we listened to our reading from the Book of Acts -

the story of the very beginnings of the Church -

we discover that life in all its fullness

is not one that’s lived in isolation:

abundant life ...

the Christian life...

is necessarily ...communitarian:

we’re not called to live out our faith in glorious isolation;

we are the body of Christ...

one body, and each of us making up the many parts. 

Throughout this week, 

on the back of a couple of conversations with different folk, 

I’ve been pondering the question:

‘what is the Church?’ 

And in our reading from Acts we catch a glimpse 

of what church might be for those earliest of Christians -  

behaviours and ways of being that might act as wee touchstones or signs for us,

as we think about what church is.

So, let’s examine our Acts passage a little more.

We’ve already worked out that for the folk in Acts, community was important -

the text says that ‘they continued together in close fellowship’...

and ‘day after day they met as a group in the Temple.’

The comment that:

‘You don’t have to go to church to be a Christian’, 

is a comment that’s just not on their radar. 

And also, it just wouldn’t make sense to them:
‘go to the church?’

No.

They don’t have to ‘go’ to the church

because...    they ‘are’ the Church.

The Church, as the song goes,

is wherever God’s people are praising...

Or, as that other song observes:

I am the church

You are the church

We are the church together...

The Church is flesh and blood, not bricks and mortar...

‘the church is not a building,

the church is not a steeple;

the church is not a resting place;

the church ... is a people’

And these particular people in Acts 

clearly seemed to think that meeting up together - 

joining up with other parts of the church, as such - 

was somehow important, somehow helpful.

They were drawn to one another;

they had common purpose;

they were connected;

they had a common identity in and through Jesus:

united in one love

all beating as one heart.

Spurred on by this one love

this community

this very early part of the self-same Church that we, too, are a part of...

spent their time in learning:

they wanted to know more about Jesus;

they wanted to know of his teachings;

they wanted to know how, as his followers,

those teachings impacted upon their own lives, and the lives of those around them.

They were hungry to know more,

to work out how to walk the journey of faith.

It was a community of learning:

learning to be like the one they loved.

Spurred on by this love

this community 

found that the natural expression of their love for Jesus 

was through worshipping together as his people.

And so they ‘took part in the fellowship 

and sharing in the fellowship meals and prayers.’

It was in community that they remembered Jesus in bread and wine

and, as they did,

ordinary grape and grain took on a deeper spiritual meaning -

the everyday things of the world becoming sacred - sacramental;

nourishing them,

binding them closer together -

one love, one heart, one in spirit.

United in prayer, too,

as they remembered and said together

the prayer that Jesus had taught - 

that prayer which we still say.

It was a worshipping community:

worshipping the one they loved

and who loved them, utterly.

And, as they began to comprehend that great and utter love

this community was filled ...with awe.

Hearts and minds and souls

struck with the wonder of it all

as they went deeper into this faith,

deeper into what it was to be disciples,

deeper into the great love of God as revealed in the Son.

This was an awe-filled community:

marvelling at all that God had done

at all that God given for them.

That amazing, divine self-giving

caused the believers to respond likewise.

And, in what could be seen as a dream text 

to delight the heart of any church treasurer - 

where’s [treasurer's name]?! -
these earliest of Christians gave...and gave...and gave,

sometimes quite sacrificially -

because the thought that one may be in need and suffering

was enough to cut them to their hearts:
when one suffered, all suffered.

They gave what they had,

what they could,

so that none were hungry

none were homeless...

remembering those words that Jesus had said:

‘when you do this for the least

...   you do it for me.’

They cared,

they supported one another

and within that mutual support,

they shared hospitality as well -

eating together in each other’s homes.

It was a community of generosity:

a living parable of the generosity of the one they followed.

That generosity was also a demonstration

of their great sense of thankfulness to God.

They were truly humbled as they thought of God’s love,

of Jesus’ life and death and resurrection.

Thankful - and possibly not a little astonished -

as they pondered the thought that

the Creator of the Universe and of all contained therein -

the One beyond time and space

the One beyond human comprehension -

cared for them:

called them... ‘beloved’...

It was a community of thankfulness and praise:

delighting in the One who delighted in them.

As the early believers worked out what it was to be church, 

there were a couple of interesting knock-on effects:

first, the wider community saw what they did,

how they lived,

how they treated one another in response to their God...

And so it was that the church enjoyed 

the good will of the people around them -

the wider community.

Second, the way in which this church community behaved... 

piqued curiosity,

drew people to them,

and so their numbers grew.

...What is the Church?

What are the signs of the Church?

The Church is... us:

the Church is... community.

For faith, within the context of fullness of life

is not just a private and personal matter of

‘me and my God’

faith, and fullness, is much more expansive than that:

it’s about ‘me and my God ...and my neighbour’ - 

and my neighbour may be a fellow Christian, 

or someone who lives in the local neighbourhood,

or even someone who lives on the other side of the world, 

who we may not know, but who may be in need,

and who we can support through agencies such as Christian Aid.

Called to live within the context of community,

as God's people...as church:

together we learn about the faith

together we worship God

together we share with, and support, one another

together we give thanks and praise ...

because we recognise that this is what life,

life in all its fullness is about

as we follow  

the God who is bigger than the sum of our deeds

the taker of fears

and the giver of dreams..

the God who calls us to be his people

his community:

the God who is not finished with us yet,

despite the claims of some...

the God who is still speaking...

finish with clip...

 AMEN...

of law essays and teddy bears

Coming to the end of writing my Church Law essay - the last essay I will have to do for my training requirements.  Sitting, sighing, and trying to stick with the task at hand, my beloved Dad emails a bunch of jokes.
I think my particular favourite out of the lot was this 'groaner'  :D

A teddy bear is working on a building site. He goes for a tea break and when he returns he notices his pick has been stolen. The bear is angry and reports the theft to the foreman. The foreman grins at the bear and says "Oh, I forgot to tell you, today's the day the teddy bears have their pick nicked."

Thanks for cheering me up Dad, lol!
Aaaaand back to the essay! :)

Ahhh and a brilliant postscript courtesy of friend Amy...
this must be the best blogpost I think I have ever read - I am still crying with laughter:
praise the Lord for giant chickens

doubting Thomas?

Some sermon thoughts...

Poor Thomas.
Much-maligned Thomas.
Doubt for one little minute and they
never
let
you
forget.
Poor Thomas: forever typecast as the one who really just doesn't cut the mustard when it comes to faith.
Thomas: the one you're told *not* to be like -
in Sunday School,
or youth group,
or even from the pulpit:
'don't be a doubter, like Thomas!'
Poor, poor Thomas:
here's a man who's gone through nigh-on 2 000 years of suffering from a persistent image problem.
It's high time we rescued Thomas, the disciple who draws the short straw, who gets a raw deal, because let's be blunt: he was not the only follower of Jesus who doubted on that Resurrection day.

According to the Gospel of Luke, when Mary Mag returns from the garden after her meeting with the resurrected Jesus the disciples dismiss the news as 'nonsense'.  They hunker down in the upper room, lying low, with the doors firmly locked in a room stinking of fear.
But the locked doors are not impenetrable: they 'cannot keep out God's grace...neither the doors nor fear can prevent the risen Christ's coming to his disciples.  They may be able to lock others out, but they cannot lock him out.' [Feasting on the Word, yr A, Vol. 2, 399]
There, in that fear-filled room, Jesus stands among them bringing words of peace, embodying resurrection's promise.  They see his pierced hands, his side, and immediately upon seeing, are filled with joy.
Now, now, they believe...after they've seen.
Not unlike Thomas....
It is not unreasonable, then, that Thomas wants to see Jesus, after all, the rest of them have.
I think the silence regarding the reaction of the disciples is telling:
no laughter,
no mocking,
no exasperation,
no judgement...
just silence.
It appears that over the course of history, the judgement on Thomas as a 'doubter' has been left for others to make.

But what is it they believe, I wonder, these 10 out of 11 disciples?
For having seen the risen Lord, a whole week later, there they are, still hunkered down in that room, with the doors still firmly locked...
These guys are not in a hurry to go anywhere, even though Jesus had indicated that as the Father had sent him, so he was sending them out into the world.

Again Jesus appears.
Again, he offers words of peace.
And then, he turns to Thomas, and gives to him what has already been given to the others:
Thomas sees, is invited to look, to feel the nail marks, the wounded side.
But unlike the rest of the disciples, Thomas sees beyond the physical.
He sees with the eyes of faith.
Unlike the rest of the disciples, Thomas gets it.
This is something different, something other.
Is he perhaps remembering a conversation from the past - this in John 14 - 'now you have known me, you will know my Father also, and from now on you do know him and you have seen him'?

In front of our eyes, as we read the text, we see Thomas have a kind of 'aha!' moment.
And it causes him to utter that great statement of faith that the other disciples have not yet made - because they've not yet clicked:
'my Lord... and my God!'
While for centuries Thomas has been called out for not having enough faith because he 'needed' to see Jesus, I wonder...in the end, is it Thomas out of all of those gathered, who has the greatest faith?
While he does indeed see Jesus with his own eyes, he also sees with his mind, his heart, his faith:
to see Jesus...is to see God.
To say 'my Lord and my God' is not just a statement of faith, it is an expression of worship.

Perhaps it is less a case of Thomas doubting, and more a case of us doubting Thomas...

For Jase: 'and now I live, and now my life is done'

Holy Week is not meant to be all light and fluffy.
This, I know.
It is harder this year.
Monday saw me saying that most final of goodbyes to someone who,over the last 6 years, had moved into the 'jolly good pal' category.
It is a small group, and now, even smaller.
Latterly, as we meandered our way through very different PhD's, Jase was always there with a droll remark, an encouraging comment, or occasionally, a 'get on with it woman!'
His humour could make me snort my tea in a most unseemly manner.
He had the keenest mind I've ever encountered, was an avid Whovian, a lover of 'weird French stuff' [existential French theology], a generous spirit, and underneath a woolly-jumpered exterior, an unfailingly kind man.
Jase was an inspired giver of gifts: amongst many treasures [occasionally Knoxian], I rejoice not only in being the proud possessor of possibly the world's largest teapot [16 mugs or 20 cups...'great for the kirk session'], but also a Cthulhu mobile phone case...
He was one of the good guys, and the greatest gift, was of course, his friendship.
Right to the last, his courage and humour and kindness remained.
Having managed, through heroic efforts to finish his doctorate and graduate last July, he died just before his book was about to be published.
I shall miss him, and echoing the sentiments of another close pal 'I feel robbed.'
Too soon.
Too soon.

I'm minded of a poem written by another one whose life was also cut too short, although in vastly different circumstances.  The poem was written on 19 September 1586 by Chidiock Tichborne on the eve of his execution for treason - he was involved in the Babington Plot to assassinate Elizabeth.
However, while Jase could think the occasional dire thought, an assassin he was not!  Nevertheless, regardless of circumstance, the poem just seemed oddly fitting...

Tychbornes Elegie:

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, 

My feast of joy is but a dish of paine, 
My Crop of corne is but a field of tares,
And al my good is but vaine hope of gaine.
The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,
My fruite is falne, and yet my leaves are greene:
My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,
I saw the world, and yet I was not seene.
My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death, and found it in my wombe,
I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade:
I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe,
And now I die, and now I was but made.
My glass is full, and now my glasse is runne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

the sacred in the ordinary...or: normality is under-rated

Today was a gift, involving a couple of friends, and assorted children.  Life has been hectic of late; routines have disappeared in the busyness.  Within both parish and the personal, lately death has felt like a persistent companion.  In the midst of it all, I'd somehow forgotten the wholesome, life-giving sacredness of the ordinary.

In conversations over cups of tea, shared meals, chats about spiders and Robert the Bruce and school holidays - along with the music of Phineas and Ferb and generous helpings of smiles and laughter - my soul was somehow restored.  The sacred ordinariness of life is a wonderful thing; time enough to be extraordinary at some other point.

Am very much giving thanks for the gift of friends today.

Lent 3A: sermon for Sunday - 'Is God with us, or not?'

readings:
Exodus 17:1-7
John 4:5-42

There’s a very old story of a chap who joined a silent religious order...

After five years have passed, he’s called to the Abbot’s office.

‘How are you finding things, my son?’ asks the Abbot.

The monk considers for a moment, and being a man of few words, mutters:

‘Porridge is too salty.’

Another five years pass, and again he’s called in to see the Abbot.

‘How are you, my son?’ the Abbot asks.

‘Bed’s too hard,’ the monk grumbles.

Yet another five years pass and, you guessed it, 

it’s his time to visit with the Abbot once more.

‘Well, my son, how are things?’

‘I’m leaving,’ the monk replies.

The Abbot sits and considers this news for a moment, and says:

‘Frankly, I’m not surprised: you’ve been complaining ever since you got here.’

In our Old Testament reading this morning, 

we heard a story about complaining from the book of Exodus:

the Israelites journeyed at God’s command,

landing at  Rephidim, where they set up camp –

but there was no water for them to drink. 

They complained to Moses and said,

"Give us water to drink."

To which Moses replied

"Why are you quarrelling with me?

And why do you test the Lord?" 

But they ...continued to complain.

Wondering if they were going to stone him,

Moses cried out to God,

and was told to strike a rock with his staff.

And so he did:

water flowed from the rock,

and the people’s cries were answered...

and, demonstrating that there’s more to a

place-name than sometimes meets the eye,

Moses called the place

‘Massah’ and ‘Meribah’,

‘test’ and ‘quarrel’ –

neatly summing up the whole experience;

for the people had done just that, and asked:

‘is God with us, or not?’

‘Is ...God with us, or not?’  ...

Now, I confess, that if I was planning on going on a long journey 

and was in the process of looking out for some travelling chums,

based on the apparent evidence found in the book of Exodus,

I’d have to say that,

the complaining children of Israel

would figure pretty low on my list...

...Actually, I suspect they wouldn’t be appearing at all! 

This lot could seemingly win a gold medal for grumbling:

given that God had rescued them from oppression -

and rather dramatically at that, by raining down plague upon plague 

on the Egyptians;

given that God went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud by day

and a pillar of fire by night;

given that God had led them safely across the Red Sea by parting the waters...

AND, given that God was providing food for them in the wilderness – 

quail burger, anyone? -

given these very dramatic, very tangible proofs, how could they NOT see

that God was indeed with them?

It      was      plain    to see...

wasn’t it?

So why were they busily reinventing their recent history, turning what had

been slavery and oppression into some kind of ‘Disney-on-the-Nile’ theme

park?

...Perhaps, it was a coping mechanism.

Their lives overturned,

dramatically uprooted from all they’d known – even though it had been slavery –

journeying as strangers in a strange, forbidding landscape,

anxious in the present

and fearful for their future,

...they looked back

to a place where there was the comfort of home and familiarity of routine daily patterns. 

Tho’ slaves, they knew what was what,

and what was required to get by.

And in the wilderness, everything –

every        single        thing –

was different:

all was change

a daily struggle for survival,

with the accompanying insecurities and fears of never quite knowing if they’d live or die;

never quite knowing what to expect.

Given the huge turnaround they’d experienced in their lives, maybe it isn’t actually that surprising

that they cried out, and asked

‘is God with us, or not?’

That question makes the story become

more human...

more real.

As often as I’ve read the stories of these wanderings in the wilderness,

with the occasional thought of

‘tch, what a bunch of whiners’ -

and I certainly have had those thoughts –

there’s also been the follow-up rueful realisation that perhaps 

I’m not so different from these folk of so long ago...

and I wonder:

how many of us look back on our past

wearing those proverbial rose-tinted spectacles?

Ah, the ‘good old days!’

...However, we often leave out the reality of the hard slog of how things really were,

and of how much we actually grumbled as well. 

Maybe grumbling is part of our human condition, and it continues to fascinate

me that the questions of people like the Israelites in the wilderness so long ago,

echo down through the ages,

to right where we are today

and that they remain so very relevant.

‘Is God with us, or not?’

This is a big question –

a huge question,

underpinning the very essence of our faith,

for, gathered within its folds,

we find that it’s the question that asks:

‘why do bad things happen to good people?’

it’s the question that asks:

‘where are you God, in my suffering?’

it’s the question, the cry from the heart, that asks:

‘how could you let this happen...to me?’

As with the Israelites, ‘is God with us, or not?’ is our very human attempt to 

find meaning in a painful, lonely, and hurting world;

a world in which events can sometimes feel so random and meaningless...

a world in which we can feel lost in the wilderness;

our hope withered,

our souls parched and thirsting for meaning.

And, it’s a question that I believe is okay to ask:

sometimes we need to ask it,

just because being able to ask it,

able to voice the fear, the pain, the confusion

is...enough.

But sometimes, the question demands an answer:

one that avoids clichés, glibness, or glossing over...

and one that avoids trying to explain

everything – including God – tidily away into a box.

Because even in our very modern, very instant, ‘microwave’ society –

sometimes neatly packaged answers that we don’t have to think about too much ...

just don’t cut the mustard.

Which is just as well, because this whole ‘mystery of faith’ business is pretty untidy...

and God consistently refuses

to fit into the boxes we try to put him in.

‘Is God with us, or not?’

Yes.

God is.

We worship an ever-present God

A God, who, in Jesus, became one of us

and who sat at a well in the heat of the day,

and like his ancestors in the wilderness

and perhaps like his followers in the present,

found that he was thirsty,

...and asked for a drink...

but who also talked of living water that refreshed the soul.

Is God with us, or not?

Yes.

God is.

We worship an ever-present God.

Wherever we are – and even where we are not,

God is present:

in times of celebration

or sorrow,

in the midst of the mundane

or the terrifying,

in the fibre of our being

and in the very fabric of our world...

in Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan,  

and in places of peace;

in the cockpit of a plane mysteriously disappeared

and alongside the waiting relatives of all those on board;

God is present:

in the corridors of power where the cats

just     keep     getting     fatter

and among those gathered at the food bank hungering for food and thirsting for justice,

desperate to survive.

‘Is God with us, or not?’

In the mystery of our faith

God is present

God is with us

and for us

in Spirit and in truth

rejoicing when we rejoice

weeping when we weep

grieving over the appalling things that humans do to each other,

comforting,

guiding,

cherishing us,

regardless of whether we feel it or not...

and sometimes the more pressing question is:

‘are we with God, or not?’

We may not have the dramatic signs that the Israelites had in the wilderness

but there are signs that God is with us,

if we stop and we look

and listen for them closely enough.

‘Is God with us, or not?’

Yes.

It can be seen in the way that we value each other in this community –

through myriad, tiny,

and sometimes near-invisible acts

of caring and kindness;

it can be heard underneath the banter during coffee, when a joke is shared,

but what is meant is ‘how are you really doing?’

It’s in the way we live our lives amongst our friends and our families, 

our workmates, our neighbours...

being listening ears,

or a hand to hold,

a place of refreshing and hope in the lonely wilderness 

that someone is feeling...

and that we may not even know about:

the important thing being, that we were, and are, there.

God is with us, as we drink in the life-giving, living waters of his love

and go and share that water with others.

Someone once said that

‘faith is the triumph of hope over experience.’

In faith, 

we say ‘yes’ to God being with us –

even though we can’t neatly package the whole mystery of how and why.

Shortly, we’ll go out from here, into the rest of the week, touched by God

And, in turn, touching others –

being water-carriers into a parched and thirsting world.

‘Is God with us, or not?’

Within the very heart of the question,

within the mystery that surrounds us,

we worship a God who is with us

indeed, who is so much with us

he became one of us,

and who, even now, in this place,

invites us to drink deep

from the fountain of life-giving water

...and quench our thirst.      

And so, may the God who is with us

bless us and keep us in his care

this day, and always,

Amen.

Foxy Knoxy's word to the wise #6: begone, foul lenten horror

Beloved elect, predestined - albeit woefully tainted,
regarding this matter of 'Lent':
it behooves us to remember that we are surrounded on all sides by the adversaries of Satan.
Subtle, subtle are the machinations of his minions.
Flawed and unworthy creatures that we are, we listen to the honeyed words of temptation and fall, alas.
Swimming in a cesspit of sin with Satan, only God's grace can rescue us from uttermost darkness.

Fall on your knees and fall upon God's mercy: repent.
Fast and pray.
Think not of so-called special times and seasons of the year: begone foul lenten horror!  Instead, live your lives in perpetual penitence; don the black of sorrow and avoid riotous cheer, or indeed, purple.
Being a Protestant is a serious business.
We neither do purple nor shades of grey; black and white are sufficient unto the day. But given our inadequacies and sinfulness, mostly black will do.

lectionary leanings: 'well, that's awkward' - Matthew 5:21-37

Although I'm not preaching this coming Sunday - as I shall be in Israel [she said, casually!] - a conversation in a facebook group prompted some thoughts on the upcoming gospel text for the day: Matt. 5: 21-37. I love being a part of a group who are happy to engage in conversation both casually and deeply about the texts for preaching. I value the variety of approaches and insights - they both feed my soul and stimulate my own thinking. The verses concerned are:

²¹“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ ²²But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. ²³So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you,²⁴leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. ²⁵Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. ²⁶Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.²⁷“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’²⁸But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. ²⁹If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. ³⁰And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell. ³¹“It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ ³²But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.³³“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ ³⁴But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, ³⁵or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. ³⁶And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. ³⁷Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one

One of the group had posted a comment observing that she really did not like the text - which, given some of the content, is understandable. In response, another noted that, in sensitivity to some folk who'd be visiting the church that Sunday, the reading would be stripped a little - especially the 'divorce' stuff. Some said 'find another text to preach on, then', while others encouraged a 'don't shy away from the hard texts' approach. A couple noted that by omitting the text, the original poster could be storing up a homiletical problem a little ways down the track when the gospel unpacked some other matters that were based on this chapter. So, a nice diversity of opinion already, with regard to whether to preach on it or not. 

I think that I'm inclined to the view that when these so called 'hard' texts turn up, we should face them square in the eye.  And that it's completely okay to say to a congregation 'you know what, I struggle with this reading.'  Chances are, they do too - it may even come as a relief to know that the minister is also sweating somewhat with regard to the passage.  Given that, if I were preaching this coming Sunday, I'd still go for the gospel text - warts 'n all - and think my sermon title would be 'Well, that's awkward...!', thus acknowledging the difficult sounding stuff in the reading, and also the possible difficulty regarding what on earth to do with it.  However, having taken that communal deep breath with the congregation, I'd also acknowledge that the passage is a massively rich text and there are many ways in which to approach it.
Looking at the passage, my own tendency would be to try and stand back a little to try to see a broader theme and try to avoid the potential of becoming bogged down in the individual offences.  As I read it, this passage is part of a much wider discourse on how to love one's neighbour - the offences mentioned are all potential causes for dispute and disharmony undermining personal / familial/ community/ divine relationships:
murder, anger management, insults, adultery, divorce, false witness.
Thinking of John Calvin [as I often do] and his understanding of the godly community being an harmonious community - ordered and peaceable, and thus potentially at least, demonstrating a foretaste of the kindom of heaven - perhaps I'd invite folk to think about how to live in love/ harmony with one another?
For me, then, the key verses would be:

'23 So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, 24 leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.'

We are called to be a community of reconciliation - as God has reconciled us in Christ, so we are to be reconciled one to another and as we do so, live into our calling as Christ's body in the world to bring the message of the gospel of peace to the world.  The challenge of preaching upon a 'hard' text is paralleled by the challenge it is to live as reconciled people...


And I am now filing that thought away for the next time the text comes around!! 

BE 7: boats, bonding, and beignets...or, 'what I did in the holidays'

a rather large boat...

some friendly feet for a pheeto...

beignets in New Orleans

7am Tuesday: the 3rd, and final, plane flew above the darkened Forth. Various signs of human habitation twinkled in the blackness; orange-yellow street lights, occasional twin-white beams from cars snaking along unseen roads, the scattered lights of households preparing for a new day, the glow of a lonely ship upon the river.
Touchdown.
Customs.
A tired goodbye to the last remaining RevGal in the chain; a chain linking back to where the 1st plane had lifted off - New Orleans, a cruise, a meeting of minds and hearts and voices, virtual friends moving from ether to earthy reality, shared pheetos and new friendships made.
So it was that the RevGals BE 7 came and went.
Delighted at last to meet up in real-time with some of the amazing community of women who have been such a support and inspiration over the last 6 years since I started reading the main blog and linked blogs.
Remembering the email from 5 years ago welcoming me into that community of blogging women.
Also remembering wishing folk a fabulous time each year as another BE swung by, while also quietly wishing wistfully that perhaps, one day, I might go and play.

As journey's end so, too, the arrival into New Orleans 9 days earlier was in darkness, followed by a mad shuttle bus ride to the hotel, weary collapse in an oh-so-cosy bed after travelling sitting for so long, and the building anticipation of knowing that RevGals were beginning to converge on the town.
New Orleans by day in sight, sound, and smell:
the Big Easy, bedecked in the green, purple, and gold of Mardi Gras, grooved and hummed to the sounds of street jazz bands, children rat-a-tat-tatting doing tin-can tap for any passer-by willing to throw a buck in a hat.  The occasional blast of a steamer sounded in the distance, while tourists, gator-like devoured the experience, snapping cell-phone cameras.  The wafting, weirdly alluring/appalling smell coming from cigar stores competed with fried oyster and crawfish poboys, beignets and milky coffee from Cafe du Monde, racks of ribs, and alligator being cooked in various eateries.  Eschewing the cigars, I opted for the oyster and crawfish, sampled some alligator and washed down both with copious root beer [ah, the joy of free refills].  Groucho Marx came to mind at one point re. the gator: 'get me an alligator on a stick and make it snappy.'

'Do do that voodoo [burger] you do do so well'
Neutralising bad magic? The BVM and voodoo burgers compete at a cafe in the French Market.

That first weekend was gloriously warm - eating al fresco without winter woollies in January was fabulous.
Sunday and Monday before boarding was spent meeting and greeting and eating with newly arrived RevGals.  We boarded 'Elation', a rather ambitious name, for further meeting, greeting, and eating.  In my ongoing inner life as a musical, the ear-worm of the day was 'Getting to know you'.  We began the process of telling our stories, bonding in laughter at some of those 'really can't tell this anywhere' else anecdotes, sharing deep thoughts and bad jokes.  Initial reserve disappeared quickly and I relaxed in this great company of folk; cue for second ear-worm 'I think I'm gonna like it here'.

Intertwined with the fun 'Galship' was the matter of attending a programme set up for the purpose of continuing education/reflection.  In this instance, we were exploring the Enneagram with Suzanne Stabile.  When it came to our Enneagram encounters, we were a mixed bunch - some were new to the whole thing, some had dipped in, while others were well-acquainted.  In the past, I'd been fortunate to do work on the Enneagram with Dorothy Neilson, so it was good fun to build on that foundation as well as compare two very different but equally fab Enneagram teachers.  Given my previous Enneagram background, this time around I was able to concentrate less on my own traits and characteristics and more on getting a better all-round sense of how it related to others - useful stuff and hopefully it will help as I move into my own congregation, work on committees, chair the kirk session, relate to my parishioners with hopefully more understanding, and such like.  It was not all hard work, however.  Dancing waiters at dinner-time encouraged some of our party to dance 'Gangnam-style' between mains and dessert; jaunts ashore to Progresso and Cozumel that included Margaritas and Pina Coladas served in gold-fish bowls posing as glasses; being gently rocked to sleep by the waves...more conversations, more laughter, stress and tiredness seeping away.

When we docked early Saturday morning, New Orleans was hidden in a cold fog worthy of an Edinburgh haar.  As some of the others shivered, I felt at home in the weather, smiled and put on the thick jumper [sweater!] I'd brought with me from Scotland.  Happily extending some of the 'Galship', four of us travelled across town to enjoy the hospitality of the folks at the Magnifcat House of Discernment - a place where young, post-college aged women are invited to stay and reflect on a possible vocation to the Religious life. Sisters Diane and Carmen were wonderfully kind, and over dinner with some of the discernees present, we pondered the nature of 'calling' and women in ministry both Catholic and Protestant.

Having the use of a car, the next morning, our wee group of 4 pootled up the road to worship at a church currently being pastored by another RG who'd also been on BE 7.  Great fun, and inspiring to see how two congregations, one black, one white, had come together as one.  Equally inspiring was the vote that they had taken the previous weekend to become an 'open and affirming' congregation.  I thought to myself quietly 'people: you rock,' and gave thanks.  After worship, and with RG friend, we decamped to Juan's Flying Burrito for enjoyable, extended food and fellowship.  Farewells to S. followed by a tour around the Lower 9th Ward of New Orleans still recovering from the effects of Hurricane Katrina 9 years on.

In the midst of wasteland and desolation were signs of new life and habitation, but it is a slow process.  A signboard on one house commented on the cost of war in Iraq/Afghanistan and wondered when the government might look to helping out its own citizens.  Amongst the new builds, the innovative, sustainable housing of the Make it Right organisation [a.k.a. Brad Pitt's houses] were visually stunning.  Not being comfortable about taking photos of the housing, I opted instead to snap a sign by the levee which gave brief details of what had happened in 2005.  The conversation was somewhat subdued as we drove around the devastation and bit-by-bit regeneration; we wondered how many more years it would take for the area to fully recover...we couldn't help but agree with the sentiments of the sign we'd seen on the house earlier.

A small trip down memory land followed for two of our company - sisters - who had been born in, and spent their very early years in New Orleans.  Having phoned their mother for directions, we drove into the neighbourhood of their childhood; it was filled with cute, matching bungalows all along the avenues.  Our last supper together was had in the French Quarter accompanied by the sounds of raucous jazz coming in off the street.
An early night.
A morning flight, leading to Houston, leading to Newark, leading...home.

It has been a wonderful, wonder-filled, space for refreshment, relaxation and renewal [spot the Star-word!] which did not require the writing of an essay at the end of it.  A time to be and breathe in the company of some particularly excellent women.  Currently still a little jet-lagged, although the on-land sea-swaying seems to have stopped.
If I have the opportunity to go to another BE, I'll be there like a shot if I'm allowed :)
Thanks for the welcome, the hospitality, the fun, and the friendship RevGal sisters - it has been awesome, as are you all.