Posted by ParishAdmin on May 9, 2012 under Sermons | 
The book of Acts was written by the same author as the Gospel according to Luke. Yet, while the Gospel focuses on Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, Acts focus on what happens thereafter; it tells how the story continues. Acts reveals the ongoing unfolding of God’s salvation in the history of the Christian Community as it grows and reaches out beyond itself.
This is a radical departure from earlier New Testament documents, particularly the Pauline letters. Initially, Paul and his contemporaries very much expected Jesus’ return to be immanent. So, Paul’s letters often focused on preparing the community for Jesus’ return. For the Pauline letters, the present was the final chapter of earthly existence as a whole.
By the time Acts is written, however, the church realised that the return of Jesus might take a while. The present, therefore, is not a completion, but a new chapter that demanded a new identity. The church’s focus needed to shift from an inward and internal preparation to an active engagement in and with the world.
Acts reveals the identity of the people of God as the ones who had not so much witnessed the Resurrection of Jesus Christ themselves, yet whose life still had been completely turned around by this event. These are the ones who, through their baptism, had been taken into the Resurrection: not literally – at least not yet – but still in ways that penetrated every fibre of their being and that turned them into something radically different and something completely new: They had turned into a community focused on mission.
And this is our double-identity as the church even to this day: A community. And focused on mission.
The idea of community is at the heart of Acts: And not just a community by name only, but a deeply united and interconnected community, and deeply united and interconnected not just in matters spiritual and religious, but also in other matters.
In Acts 4:35, for example, which was the reading appointed for the Sunday immediately following Easter Sunday, we learn that “the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.”
Shocking, eh? I told you this is radical and new!
And this is not only something to remember on the Sunday following May First. But as Christians, we must engage the biblical norm outlined in Acts 4:35 at all times!
This does not mean we have to all give our property and move in with each other. But we must strive to discover how Acts 4:35 translates into our 21st century reality as a global and diverse Christian community…
… Which is exactly what is not done by those who preach economic prosperity and personal wealth as a consequence of embracing the Gospel or who as Christians advocate for an unlimited and unbalanced capitalism!
I believe we must rather turn to the wisdom of monastic communities that will reveal God’s voice in our day and age and can offer wisdom for our particular contexts. And I am not just talking about traditional monastic communities, such as Benedictines and Franciscans. But I am also talking about what has been termed “New Monasticism,” a modern-day movement of communities of Christians of all ages and marital statuses that live together, hold a common purse, and that reach out to the poor, the hurting, and the lost. These communities are a prophetic presence in the church of our day.
Just a few days ago, for example, Justin Duckworth was elected Bishop of Wellington in the Anglican Church of Aoteaora, New Zealand, and Polynesia. What is remarkable about Justin aren’t just his dreadlocks, his age (he is 44), or his very casual style of clothing. But Justin, who is married with kids, is a founding member of “Urban Vision,” “‘a contemporary Order following Jesus on the margins.’ It has houses in Wellington neighbourhoods where life can be a struggle. In each of those homes, Christians live alongside folk from the margins.”[1]
The fact that Justin was elected bishop reveals not only that we are indeed a church full of divine surprises, but it also reveals that the Spirit is moving us, and moving us to the margins. The relevance of Acts 4:35 is revealed in new ways among us as a push moving us away from our comfort zone to those in need.
Which brings me to the importance of “mission.”
First of all, I need to ask you for the sake of this sermon to ignore all the negative images popping up in your imagination when you hear the word “mission.” Yes, “mission” is one of those words, which unleashes havoc in so many minds – and for understandable reasons. Far too often the church misunderstood mission as a way to gain power over others. The horror of the Residential School System is but one chapter in a thick book containing the abuses by the church. We have sinned against so many. And we must never forget about it!
However, in our day and age we need to turn to reclaim “mission” in the way it was intended, not in the way it was misused. Mission is not about lording over others, but it is about serving people. It is about revealing the abundant life that God has already gifted to each and every one of us.
And today’s story from Acts is case in point.
There are a number of aspects in the story, and I want to point out four.
First of all, Philip is sent by the Spirit. This mission is not just dreamt up by an individual! I point this out, because often mission, even when it is gauged in religious lingo, turns out to be somebody’s ego trip. Just because you think this a good idea, doesn’t mean it really is the insistence of the Spirit. Discernment of the Spirit is essential in deciding directions and involvement. And this includes not just listening to our own needs, but also to the need of others and to the needs of the world.
This does not make mission optional, which is the second aspect I want to point out. Mission is at the heart of what it means to be church. Or to place it within the context of today’s Gospel text: we are the branches of the vine and we must bear fruit: for the sake of those who are hurting, and, interestingly, also for the sake of the body of Christ.
The interesting thing about vines is this: If the grapes are not harvested, but stay on the vine, the vine will wither. And the church will equally withers if she does not bear fruit, i.e. if she does not engaged in mission. Pruning the vine, therefore, is not so much a punishment of individuals who seem to have strayed from the truth. Rather, John meant it as a metaphor, very much understood by his contemporaries, to describe what must happen for the survival of the church as a whole – and what must equally happen for the salvation of the world.
But let’s get back to Acts.
The third aspect in today’s reading this: Philip is sent to an Ethiopian Eunuch, to somebody who is not at all part of the norm.
Eunuchs were considered unclean, and very much so. Even though the Ethiopian Eunuch probably had means as a court official, he was still an outsider. He was a pariah, who could easily be dismissed, overlooked, ignored, and marginalised.
Many of us here at St. Paul’s have had this experience. Many of us have been like the eunuch. We have been dismissed by our families, overlooked by the church, ignored by our neighbours, and marginalised by society. To realise that Philip is sent to preach God’s love to this kind of a person affirms what has been revealed over and over and over again: We all matter to God! God is deeply and abundantly in love with us, each and every one of us, whoever, whatever we are, and wherever we find ourselves on the journey.
This, however, also gives us a responsibility to look out for fellow eunuchs. Just because we have been marginalised doesn’t give us the right to ignore others who are consider less and small. God calls us to care and love, just as much as we have been cared for and loved by God.
And this includes people with different ethnic backgrounds.
After almost eight years in this pulpit, you know that this is a bit of a soap box for me. But it pains me to see the racism present at times in this beloved church of ours. Anglicanism is not Christianity for the English or those of English decent only. But I believe that the Spirit has something rather prophetic to say to the entire world through Anglicanism. And just as much as the Sprit moved Philip beyond a small and narrowly defined ethnicity to preach to a black African, so the Spirit calls us today to open wide our mission to all, regardless of nationality, ethnicity, or background.
The final point I want to bring up is this: I do believe that mission is not done for its own sake. But mission has an ultimate goal and that goal is conversion, both the conversion of lives and equally the conversion of our society. Philip joined the eunuch not only to share a nice bed-time story. But Philip was told by the Spirit to share what he had experienced and to unearth the love that God had already planted deep inside the heart of the Ethiopian Eunuch. The encounter changed the Ethiopian Eunuch. It turned him around. It converted him to become a member of the body of Christ as he was baptised into Christ’s death and Resurrection.
Mission is about converting lives so that they can discover and claim God’s love for themselves.
And mission is also about converting the world to discover and claim God’s justice and peace for all creation.
God uses mission as a vehicle to bring about God’s reign of love, justice, and peace. This is why mission must include outreach, as much as Evangelism, as much as advocacy.
Today, we will commission the members of our church committee. And as much as this might look like another internal naval-gazing exercise, it actually is a deeply missional event. We will ask God’s blessing on those who will be charged not with the maintenance of our structures and resources. But these lay leaders are the ones to push and pull us forward in healing, worship, reflection, and hospitality. They are the ones chosen to lead us in our vision. These are the ones that will remind us that the Spirit says to this very community: Go! Go to the Eunuchs of our times! Go and celebrate the Gospel in word, and prayer, and action.
Pray, therefore, that we with these lay leaders may become more and more a community focused on mission.
[1] http://liturgy.co.nz/wellington-bishop-elect-justin-duckworth/9572
Posted by ParishAdmin on April 28, 2012 under Webmaster Blog |
Over $500 Raised for “Advocacy Office”
Oh, what a night! The event of the year!
On Friday 27th April, around 70 people turned out to see St. Paul’s choir and friends demonstrate their many and varied talents in a terrific concert. Only at St. Paul’s could you find such an eclectic mix of musical styles. The audience was treated to a programme of sacred and secular, comic and contemplative music with Strauss rubbing shoulders with excerpts from “The Sound of Music” and Chopin having to share the piano keys with “Chopsticks”.
The concert got off to a magnificent start with Barry Manilow’s song “One Voice”, sung beautifully by Nina Shoroplova in the darkened church, with the lights lifting as more voices entered. The first half of the concert included vocal and instrumental solos, concluding with the audience joining with the choir for some lively gospel numbers.
After the interval, the programme took on a lighter note, and the choir entertained with popular songs, instrumental ensembles and a selection of songs from the shows. One of the highlights of the evening was a solo spotlight from our very own vicar, Markus Dünzkofer. The audience waiting in hushed anticipation, Markus appeared at the back of church dressed as Mother Superior, to sing “Climb every mountain” from “The Sound of Music”. What a performance! It was received with thunderous applause and cheers.
This surely has to now become an annual event in the social calendar of St. Paul’s. Whilst enjoying their “amazing desserts” after the concert, the audience and performers mused over the possible contenders for next year’s “solo spotlight”. Markus was heard to comment that he may be persuaded to return with a rendition of “The Lonely Goatherd”, (complete with lederhosen). However, there are also rumours that our parish administrator, Barry, does a mean “Elvis” number! With all this talent at St. Paul’s, who needs Simon Cowell?
Thank you to everyone, choir and “back-stage” helpers, who helped to make the evening such a delightful event; we raised over $500 for the Advocacy Office.
(webmaster comment: above review provided by Jill Knight. THANKS!)
Posted by ParishAdmin on April 26, 2012 under Sermons |
I have been surprised how much the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic has been front stage and centre in the media over the past few weeks.
There is a cynical part of me that wants to shout out: “She sank. Get over it!” After all, don’t we have more important issues to focus on? And haven’t we had other and at times more horrendous disasters since April 15, 1912? Isn’t the current hype just an elitist, sentimental, and escapist fallacy, which ignores the reality of the world in all its injustice, pain, and darkness?
Well, this is true…
But the harshness of this judgement condemns the reality of people’s feelings and it overlooks that the sinking of the Titanic did have a massive impact on our society. It was a defining moment in the age of industrialization, imperialism, and colonialism, when European and American Empires with their white supremacist tendencies and industrial advances thought of themselves as indestructible, as unsinkable. The impact of the sinking of the Titanic on its contemporaries was akin to the impact of the assassination of John F. Kennedy on boomers, the impact of the Challenger Catastrophe on GenX-ers, and the impact of 9/11 on Millenialists. Together with the Titanic generational hopes, dreams, and securities were swallowed up for ever, and I am not sure it is purely speculative to ponder the fact that within just over 3 years the world was on fire with the devastation of World War I. So, there is another side of me, which realises that the sinking of the Titanic indeed was a global event.
It is, therefore, no surprise that we are still talking about it. And we are talking about it through all kinds of stories, both true stories and stories that are mere hyperbole, metaphors, and products of the imagination. It has been quite mind-boggling to see how many stories have been told connected to the sinking of the Titanic. And even 100 years later we discover new insights and new angles to this tragedy.
In a recent newspaper article in the Vancouver Sun, for example, former parishioner Scott Larsen shared the story of his grandfather, who was a passenger on the Titanic. And I wonder, how many people think of Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio when people mention the Titanic: “I am the king of the World!”
Now, we can all smile at this. But the movie and all these stories serve a purpose. It is not just pure entertainment. As we share these stories, which at times can be fictional, and even cheesy, we retell an event. Does this make the event itself untrue and unreal? No, not at all! In fact, it makes the event even more real, as it colours it in ways that make sense to our sensibilities and imaginations.
And this is true for the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, too.
The oldest account of the Resurrection is actually not found in any of the four Gospels. But it is found in the letters of the apostle Paul. This is intriguing as Paul was not there on that morning that changed the cosmos for ever. All that Paul could rely on was the oral witness of the early church and his own encounters with the risen One a couple of decades after the event itself. And the bare essentials and the basic truth revealed by this early church witness and by Paul’s encounters is this: Jesus Christ, who was crucified and died, lives! Jesus is risen from the grave.
That’s it!
Everything else is story. And the purpose of these stories, especially those recorded in the Gospels, is to retell this event in ways that make sense and that colour it, so that it can be grasped by the addressee of the Gospel, the community to which the Gospel was proclaimed. The Resurrection-stories in Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John emphasize theological and cosmological perspectives specific to the author. And they make no claim of historical accuracy.
This is why at times these accounts don’t quite line up. The differences among the Gospels in chronology and geographical locality of the post-Easter Jesus are really hard to harmonise. And neither should we try to. What the Gospels want to proclaim and reveal is this: The one who was dead is alive. All the other details, such as who was first to reach the empty grave, or how many angels were present, all these are additive devices that help proclaim the truth within a particular context. And this is not to say this is all rubbish, invented by the authors of the Gospels, whoever they were and who we know as the four Evangelists. Rather, the Spirit used the Evangelists to proclaim and reveal particular aspects of and certain insights into the Resurrection event.
So, when we look at the Resurrection as recorded in the Gospel according to Luke, we must remember Luke’s issues, Luke’s theology, Luke’s passions and convictions, and Luke’s circumstances. And Luke’s particular issue is to reveal God’s kingdom, which is brought about by Jesus Christ, as an upside down kingdom. Luke’s passion is the restoration and healing in body, mind, and soul of all humanity to the beauty that God intends for us.
This includes in Luke a radical challenge to the structures, hierarchies, and injustices brought about by powers of this world. And this includes a particular focus on the marginalised and on those neglected by society. Remember, Luke is the one who, right at the beginning of his Gospel, let’s Mary sing: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour … The Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his Name. … [God] has scattered the proud in their conceit. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.”[1] Then, in his second chapter, Luke proclaims how God is revealed not as a mighty prince in a palace among the rich and famous shining as bright as the sun. But God comes to us in the baby Jesus, born of a young, unwed virgin, in a stable, among ox and ass, worshiped by shepherds in the middle of the night. And later in the Gospel, Jesus feeds 5000 men, plus unnumbered women and children, who hunger not just for truth, but who also hunger physically: They need food.
The Lukan Resurrection story continues this focus. It not only reveals that God’s incarnate love cannot be stuffed into a dark grave for ever and that death and darkness will not have the final word. But the Lukan Resurrection story also reveals that the risen Christ Jesus, despite his now-revealed glory, still seeks to restore all to their rightful place at the table in every aspect of the lives, regardless of who or what they are or where they find themselves on the journey.
I believe that there are four elements in today’s story supporting this focus.
- Today’s Resurrection account is set not around a tomb, but around a table. Yes, the Resurrection is the place where sins are forgiven and death, darkness, and the devil are overcome. But the Resurrection also occurs around the table, where Jesus shares food among equals and thus defies elitism and oppression. To this table all disciples are invited. Around this table all disciples are welcome. At this table all the disciples are restored to their rightful, equal place. And from this table all are sent into the world to feed, heal, clothe, restore, and house.
- The first sentence spoken by Jesus in today’s Gospel is “Peace be with you!” This sentence does not speak of condemnation or judgment, which would have been justified after his disciples deserted Jesus at the cross. Neither does the sentence order or demand. But Jesus’ first words in today’s Gospel are words that we hear over and over and over again in Holy Scripture. God’s offer of peace is like a golden threat weaving itself through the sacred pages of our Bible. Yet, the divine peace offered in Jesus is not a one-dimensional peace. It restores us both to union with God and to union with those around us. God’s peace overcomes personal sins, our fears, and any sense of inadequacy we might harbour. And God’s peace also overcomes the sins so present in the warmongering, in the injustices, and in the environmental disregard of our global reality.
- Luke insists that Jesus is no ghost. The Resurrection does not happen in some ghostly reality. But the Resurrection impacts the body. Luke wants to affirm in his own words what is at the heart of the Resurrection: The grave is empty. And this is not just a spiritual event. In the risen Jesus God also establishes a religion that in sensual, bodily, and real ways is concerned with the welfare of who we are as human beings in the entirety of our existence. Ghosts cannot impact this world anymore. The risen Jesus, however, still challenges and overcomes the darkness of this world and embraces us with life in every single aspect of who and what we are.
- Finally, we need to notice the time of the day: This story happens in the evening. To be more exact: It happens in the evening after the day of Resurrection. However, we must remember that in the Jewish tradition a day started not at midnight or at the rising of the sun, but it started at sunset. So, as the disciples gather around the table, the second day of the Resurrection starts at dawn, and with it a new reality for the disciples and for all of us. On the first day, Jesus rose triumphantly overcoming death and sin. But on the second day, the risen Jesus forms the Community of the Resurrection, a community that welcomes all, a community that invites all, a community that celebrates the peace of God for all aspects of our lives, and a community that is not just spiritual, but that is also decisively religious as it brings about resurrection life in this world.
I started this sermon by saying that stories are often used to clarify a larger truth, regardless of their historicity. I don’t know if the risen Jesus really ate broiled fish with his disciples at the second day. And it is otiose to engage in any speculations about the historicity of the passage. But, I do believe that the story reveals a larger truth: Jesus is risen, and we are all welcomed and invited into his resurrection to die once and for all to sin and death, and to become agents of his peace and justice in the world.
And to this I only know one response, which is the Easter shout: Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Posted by ParishAdmin on April 19, 2012 under Webmaster Blog |
Friday 27th April 7.30pm here at St. Paul’s Church
A mix of sacred and secular, comic and contemplative.
The evening will include an audience sing-along portion with the choir AND a solo spotlight from our very own vicar.
“Amazing Desserts” provided after the concert.
Entry by donation to Advocacy Office
We will entertain you!
Posted by ParishAdmin on April 12, 2012 under Sermons |
German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche said a lot of important things. The one thing I keep remembering, though, isn’t philosophical. “Die Christen müssten mir erlöster aussehen,“ Nietzsche once said: Christians should appear more redeemed.
I do believe that Nietzsche observed something with which many of those, who interact with Christians are familiar, but about which many Christians are totally oblivious. Christians often embrace a strange solemn, earnest, and even bitter identity. Christian congregations can be a weird assortment of judgemental sour-pusses. Anything connected to fun and pleasure seems “verboten.” The Church Lady from Saturday Night Life isn’t just a caricature and there is a reason why we Anglicans have a reputation for being God’s frozen chosen.
And for us Anglicans it is all about liturgy (and don’t you dare mess with it!) and it is about the right use of silverware, right? Hell for Anglicans after all, is a place where people are required to eat dessert with salad forks…
You can probably tell that I am already trying to prove Nietzsche wrong.
And it is true: Today’s Anglican Church is not the church of our grandfathers and grandmothers: Yes, communities are never easy and create all kinds of stress! But we do laugh a lot here at St. Paul’s. We do have fun and we tell jokes that sometimes can’t be repeated from a pulpit. Yes, we take seriously what we do and what is at the core of our faith. But we don’t take ourselves too seriously. The very fact that this parish is served by a German priest with a silly hat is case in point, right?
Furthermore, the amazing ministry done in this parish by the dozens and dozens of volunteers should make us all dance in the aisles – yes, I said “dance!”
Day in and day out people come here to seek healing and assistance. They leave with getting just that – and often more:
Our Advocacy Office, for example, provides an unequaled resources for some 3700 clients each year.
There are Labyrinth-moments, which are just priceless: A few years back, for example, as a number of walkers traced the sacred path of the Labyrinth, a young child, about 5 years old, kept running between the walkers with a big smile on his face. Like a butterfly he brought joy to us all.
The choir is always full of, well, shall we say, “energy” and when our altar guild gets together there is always banter. And in good West End tradition, the altar guild doesn’t just consist of blue-haired ladies, but of people of both genders and all ages. Yesterday, there was even a little girl helping in the creation of the amazing beauty all around you.
And this is not to put down our blue-hairs!
Here at St. Paul’s, you better not mess with our blue-hairs: A few years back, on a Sunday morning, we were graced with the presence of a neighbourhood drag-queen. I had seen her the night before at a Vancouver Men’s Chorus concert. The morning after, she was still wearing the same outrageous and outlandish pink petticoat. Obviously, she had had a long night… After the service, one of our blue-hairs walked up to the drag-queen. It was a tense moment: Who would be the last one standing in this encounter?” But after looking the drag-queen up and down and up and down again, our parishioner quietly said: “Honey, pink is not your colour!” – and walked away.
Of course, in this list of things that happen at St. Paul’s, I also have to mention Our House. Our House is a place where people heal from addiction and homelessness. It is, on the one hand, a place where sailors would blush at the language used. But at the same time it is also a place of joy. At the 11am exchange of the peace you can learn that Our House residents are the best huggers!
Yes, there is a lot of redemption present at St. Paul’s and these are just a few examples!
Does this mean we get it right all the time? Nope. We screw up. And sometimes we plot and bicker and gossip and do all kinds of hurtful and harmful things. But as one of my friends once reminded me: Isn’t it great that at least the church welcomes those who screw up…? Yes it is! And I wish Nietzsche could have experienced this wonderful and crazy place.
And I wish Nietzsche would have also been able to experience these last few days here at St. Paul’s. For I believe he would have experienced a celebration of redemption on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and in the Easter Vigil.
Over the last few days we were touched by God’s love in profound ways:
On Maundy Thursday we gathered not only to celebrate how Jesus touches us in bread and wine, but also to reaffirm His call to the service of others. At one point in the liturgy some of us washed and indeed touched each others’ feet. It was an exercise of courage that celebrated intimacy in deep ways.
On Good Friday, we heard once again how Jesus embraced the human condition fully and was willing to be intimately touched by death. For some Christians, the way to partake of this mystery is to touch the wood of the cross and even to kiss it.
And, finally, last night we not only exchanged the peace of Christ with gusto, but we were touched by holy water that was sprinkled in remembrance of our baptism. And if you have ever been to a baptism here, you know I am not just talking about a few drops of water. I am talking about copious amounts of water that rain down in abundance to touch human beings with a grace too deep for words.
Yes, over the last few days we let God touch us with love in intimate ways and we let ourselves be touched in our common humanity and in our common journey one with another.
There was a lot of touching going on over the past few days! Yet, it was good, very good indeed.
And this is why verse 17 in today’s reading from the Gospel comes a bit as a surprise.
After Mary Magdalene recognised the gardener for who he really was, she reached out to touch him, to do what she probably had done before many, many times. And who could blame her? She was seeking the intimacy she had so enjoyed in the past three years.
And how does Jesus respond?
“Don’t touch me!”
These are harsh words. And they are shocking, as they seem to push away not just Mary Magdalene.
But this is not what Jesus is trying to do. Rather, he wants to avoid what unfortunately does happen far too often in the life of the church. Jesus wants to make sure Mary Magdalene is not trying to box up and bottle her encounter with Him. Jesus wants to make sure that for Mary Magdalene the new life she met in the Risen One goes beyond a personal encounter, beyond an individualistic experience.
Yes, the resurrection of Jesus has fundamental implication for who and what we are as individuals.
The empty tomb affirms that our bodily existence is not just an accident or a pass-through stage. But our bodies are important. And so is what we do with them. Sensuality, bodily awareness, and even sexual ecstasy are not counter to God’s will. But they are very much part of God’s creation and can be used or abused by us. This does not mean anything goes. Far from it. But it also does not mean that what we do with our bodies is intrinsically flawed. Far from it.
Furthermore, in the resurrection God snatched Jesus from the dead. Death no longer has the last word. Death will not be able to hold us for ever. But in and through the resurrection, God offers each and every one of us life, life eternal and life abundant. The Easter morning is indeed a new beginning for all those who will let the sun of the resurrection dispel the darkness, fear, and death of their own lives.
But these individualistic responses to the resurrection are not the entire story.
The resurrection does not happen in a vacuum, removed from the reality of a world that is still very much enslaved by the powers that crucified Jesus, a world that kills those speaking truth and offering liberation, and a world that eats its own children. The resurrection happens in this very world, not in a spiritual alter-reality. And thus the resurrection challenges this world at its core – and overcomes its darkness and dread.
Jesus’ words to Mary Magdalene are spoken to indicate that his presence in this world was about to change.
Yes, we can still very much encounter the risen One deeply and in ways beyond our understanding in scripture, through the sacraments, and in our prayers. Furthermore, our broken and aching selves still can and indeed very much need to be touched by the risen One intimately and personally.
However, these encounters with Jesus must move us beyond any individualistic salvation. In the resurrection, Jesus adds to the vertical component of our relationship with Him a horizontal one: Jesus pushes Mary Magdalene and all of us to encounter the risen One also by ways of those who sit next to us in these pews, those who walk with us on streets and highways, and those calling to us from alleys and byways.
And Mary Magdalene understood this as she ran to the disciples to share, celebrate, and proclaim the good news of the resurrection. And ever since then, others equally have grasped the holistic reality of our salvation:
- Others, like Florence Li Tim Oi, who overcame the patriarchy of the church and became the first Anglican woman priest in 1944.
- Others, like Desmond Tutu, Anglican Archbishop of Cape Town, who witnesses to the truth that God’s people are a rainbow people of many colours.
- Others, like Michael Peers, who as leader of the Anglican Church of Canada pushed our church to face the truth about our involvement in the horrors of the residential school system.
- Or others, like the many members of this parish, who are willing to engage in the work of holistic healing and whose prophetic courage pushed our diocese to create a liturgy for the blessing of same-sex unions.
This is indeed not your grandmothers’ and grandfathers’ church anymore. But it is a church deeply seeking the light and truth of the resurrection on all levels. It is a church in the midst of working out its and the world’s salvation. And hopefully, it is also a church appearing more redeemed.
So, Friedrich, eat your heart out!
And Happy Easter to you all!
Posted by ParishAdmin on April 6, 2012 under Sermons |
Good Friday has been and remains one of the most difficult days in the liturgical life of the church. How does one find meaning and theological significance in the death of a fellow human being? How can the death of human being be a central feature of a religion? And of course these questions don’t even consider the metaphysical confusion and conundrum. After all, as complex, complicated, and contemptible the violent death of a human being might be, Jesus was not only a brother, but he was and is the one in whom God is fully revealed. Jesus is God. And as such, on Good Friday we face the truth that in Jesus, God is arrested, mocked, spat upon, flagellated, and dies on the hard wood of the cross. Try as we may to make sense of this, this is outrageous and ungraspable. It just does not make sense.
Of course, many have tried to find meaning for this day. And of course, I will try my very best to find words to fill the void of this day, too. Yet, I do so fully aware that it is a vain effort, a useless act that will raise more questions than offer answers.
Maybe at one time, when life was rough and tough, when violence, misfortune, and horror could strike at any moment, maybe then Good Friday made more sense. Maybe back then the sight of Jesus on the cross brought comfort to a suffering world. Maybe back then the fact that through a human death God had torn down the wall between God’s eternity and our reality provided answers. Maybe back then the reality of Christ’s sacrifice brought real comfort to those who experienced life and themselves as fragile, finite, and failing.
But today?
These days, many of our contemporaries do not experience life as a struggle. Yes, death is a reality. But when doctors can perform miracle-like cures and when life-expectancy is close to 80, life does not seem so random anymore and a suffering, crucified God is just an abomination, an apparition from a distant past.
Furthermore, people just do not experience themselves as distant from God’s will either. Sin has become a dirty word that has lost its meaning.
And if we are honest, to some extend this is the church’s fault.
In the past, we misused guilt and shame to subject people to our views and our power games. Sin was a tool to ostracise, exclude, and marginalise – and not just ethnic and sexual minorities had to suffer the consequences. We indeed had forgotten about preaching love and acting out of compassion – as Jesus himself had commanded. In fact we were afraid of the liberating force of this very love. No wonder we are ignored and despised by many these days.
When modernity finally allowed people to stand upright, the oppressive yoke placed on their shoulders was thrown off. Yet, so was also any understanding of our need for redemption. The pursuit of happiness, self-fulfilment, and fun has replaced any honest self-searching.
And this begs the question: Is there a place for Good Friday in our society?
No, there isn’t!
There is no place for the cross in the world around us. Good Friday is everything the world is not. Good Friday runs counter to the world, and leaves many of our contemporaries disgusted and uninterested.
But maybe this then is not even the right question to ask. Maybe the question should rather be: Is there are place for Good Friday in the lives of individual people? And I would argue: yes, very much so.
(switch on picture here)
Our society has accomplished a lot. Modernity liberated us from a constricting system that at times unfortunately included the church as an agent of repression.
However, there is a dark side to modern accomplishments.
Many are left behind. The global economy does not offer redemption for all. Modernity is not salvation.
Far from it.
Too many of our sisters and brothers struggle, and struggle deeply. The collateral damage of our economic system is visible not just in the slums of Calcutta or on the Horn of Africa, but it can be experienced on our own streets too.
And as children starve to death and as we cannot seem to find lasting solutions to homelessness, addiction, and poverty in our city, the cross indeed does offer comfort. The cross offers comfort as it speaks about a God, who does not shy away from death and darkness, from hurt and despair.
While others flee, avoiding the reality of pain, God does not run. God is all in.
When after a good day’s work do-gooders, myself included, return to comfortable homes, God does not leave. God stays around.
Jesus struggled with what lay ahead of him. But in the end, he entered darkness and death with all that he had and all that he was – unlike even his disciples.
Jesus let himself be nailed to the cross. Jesus stayed. Jesus is all in.
And God still doesn’t run, still does not abandon any of God’s children. But God goes into the pain, sleeping alongside the hurting and desolate in dumpsters and hospital beds, and dying with them in trenches and in gas chambers.
Good Friday proclaims that God can be found on the cross. God can be found with those in pain, those dying, and those without hope. The darkness of the cross is where God lives and moves and has His being. God is found among those walking in darkness, whatever that darkness might be.
And this does include those, who – despite a life full of success and even fun – question and yearn for more.
In our justifiable rebellion against religious oppressors, many think that turning away from God provides the means to be true and genuine and provides the freedom to live life without restrictions and repressions. Shutting up and shutting down religious voices seems like a good solution to our misery and confinement. “As long as nobody gets hurt and all is consensual” Right?
However, our efforts to send God to a fairy-tale land fail to kill off the voices of desperation, doubt, fear, hopelessness, meaninglessness, and loneliness. The frantic search for life-giving community in our neighbourhoods seems to be an indicator that the world cannot offer lasting and eternal answers.
Yes, we try our darndest to get rid of God. We take every shot at God we can. We nail God to a cross over and over again. When will this God finally shut up?
And how does God respond?
God does not let go of us.
God does not abandon us.
God holds on to us with compassion and love. God holds on to all of us, whoever we are and wherever we find ourselves on the journey. Even when we have turned away or done things that are heinous, ugly, and dark, God does not walk away. On the cross God opens wide God’s arms for a radiant and life-giving embrace. On the cross God is vulnerable so that our wounds are healed. And despite of what some religious professionals have claimed: There is no condemnation in these open arms. They are open wide in love.
Now this would make a good ending to a good Good Friday sermon, right? There is lot of good, comforting news here, which indeed is at the heart of the truth revealed on this day.
But, on this day, when questions and doubts outweigh any definite answers – and so they should – I need to remind you that the church’s job is to comfort the afflicted as much as to afflict the comfortable. Good Friday is a “skandalon,” is a scandal, as the Apostle Paul writes. Yet, Good Friday is a scandal not just for the world. Good Friday is also and must remain an outrageous scandal and challenge for us, who follow Christ’s Way. We miss the point, if we forget that the cross is disgusting and that it lacks any easy, any saccharine solutions to our struggles. Today we must leave this place shaken to the core, as much as the disciples were shaken to the core when they saw Jesus hanging dead from the cross. We might remember what will happen on the third day, but there is no way around the cross. The scandal of Good Friday cannot and must not be by-passed.
So, let me show you another slide
(switch on picture here)
This is shocking, right? Yes, I do realise that this is disrespectful and irreverent.
But this is exactly the point.
If we use the cross for religious self-gratification, and if we consequently think of ourselves as the better members of the human race, or think we have it all figured out, or give in to the temptations of vanity, pride, arrogance, superiority, ignorance, moralism, and judgemental behaviour, then we miss the point, and miss it completely.
The cross is not an instrument of self-gratification.
And neither is the cross an avenue to heaven.
Rather, the cross is a way to life, life abundant for ourselves and equally for those around us. The cross is way to life that will last for ever in God’s presence, but that starts here and that beckons to be discovered around us.
If we are not willing to stay at the cross, in fact if we are not willing to be crucified with Jesus, we are no better than the disciples who run away. And dying with Jesus means dying not only to our self-indulgent appetites, but it also means joining God as God dies in Auschwitz, Hiroshima, Verdun, and on the Horn of Africa; it also means suffering with God as God suffers with drug addicts, with the homeless, with HIV-victims, and with cancer patients; it also means weeping with God as God weeps with the lonely, the neglected, the mourning, and the forgotten.
Yes, of course, we fail in this calling: constantly and all the time. This is yet another conundrum of it all. Yet, this failure does not mean we can just shrug our shoulders and move on or even put our hands into our laps.
No, God offers us and calls us to all kinds of personal Good Fridays. God gently nudges us on to discover and claim those moments when we are called to stand with Jesus, in fact, when we are called to die with Jesus by witnessing to God’s redemptive love and by standing with the oppressed and the marginalised – even when all run away and all abandon us. Because, remember this is indeed at the heart of Good Friday, at the heart of the cross:
God never runs away.
God never leaves us alone.
God never ever abandons any single one of us.
Posted by ParishAdmin on under Uncategorized |
Please join us for the following services. All are welcome!!
7 April, Holy Saturday, 9am: Liturgy for Holy Saturday
7 April, Easter Eve, 9pm: The Great Vigil & First Eucharist of Easter
8 April, Easter Day, 8am, 9.15am, 11am: Holy Eucharist
Posted by ParishAdmin on March 28, 2012 under Sermons |
At the first Wednesday evening service of Lent this year, I compared Lent to a spring-cleaning. This came in reaction to my own trepidation about and my own issues with this season. At times, it feels as if the season of Lent confirms some of the assumptions of our non-Christian friends about us: We are supposedly a joyless lot that focuses on sin, and sin alone, that sees the devil around every corner and that is quick to point out failure rather than enjoy and unearth the goodness and beauty of creation. And especially when it comes to issues connected to our body, Christians supposedly are quick to call sinful and flawed anything and everything that creates joy.
And Lent seems to fit the bill as priest smudge our heads on Ash Wednesday reminding us that we are dust and to dust we shall return, as the confession takes over such a prominent place in our liturgy, and as the first letter of John every week keeps reminding us that we deceive ourselves if we say we have no sin.
Of course, all of this is true.
We are finite. And we sin. Every day. Every hour. Every one of us. And indeed, Lent is a time to remember that our death and our inability to live up to God’s will are all part of who we are. We fail God’s love in many ways, in all aspects of our lives.
However, I firmly believe that this Lenten reality-check is not meant as a means for self-flagellation, as a tool for beating down our soul, or as an excuse for a theology that denies the beauty of our bodies, the awesomeness of our creative skills, the life-giving character of our sexuality, and the amazing abilities of our tastes and senses.
Rather, Lent is an invitation to search our hearts and minds for those things that put a strain on our relationships with God, with one another, and with our true and beautiful selves. And Lent then invites us to ask God to remove these things, to remove all that obstructs God’s overflowing and abundant love for you, for me, and for all of creation.
Lent really is more akin to a spring-cleaning, where we dust off our shelves and remove stains to discover once again that God loved us into being and that God delights in this very creation.
But this is all easier said then done, isn’t it?
Even when I speak of spring-cleaning I can envision those, who rather than rejoice in unearthing what has been hidden for too long, focus on the layers of dust and dirt that have accumulated. In Lent, we somehow turn into German housewives and househusbands who are infamous for their cleanliness: Even the smallest spot has to me removed! I know of compatriots for whom toothbrushes are not just instruments of dental hygiene, but they are also an essential weapon in the domestic arsenal to fight even the most minuscule pollution. You can have a meal on the floor of my parents’ house!
I do appreciate the cleanliness when I visit the fatherland. However, this can easily turn into an obsession, an obsession that is focused too much on the fight of dirt all the while forgetting about the beauty around.
Overly harsh Lenten practices of self-examination can turn into this kind of obsession too.
And that’s problem.
It’s a problem first of all, because this obsession overlooks the very fact that it is God, who is the one to remove sin. It is not our job to obsess about.
Secondly, if we focus just on removing sin we will not get the whole picture: Just like an overly obsessive cleaner will not have an eye for the beauty of the home he is cleaning, so an overly obsessive penitent will not see the beauty so present in herself.
At this point though, I am not just speaking about our own created beauty anymore, which indeed is awesome and was gifted to each and every one of us by the One, who loved us into being compassionately and even passionately.
But I am speaking also about something more, something even more profound and even more beautiful. To explain what I mean, let me share a story.
Almost two weeks ago, I attended the diocesan annual clergy retreat. Unlike the clergy conference, which happens in the fall and which does not lack boisterous moments (remember where there are four Anglican priests there is always a fifth) the clergy retreat in Lent is a silent retreat. Yep, no yapping for 48 hours. And despite of what many of you think, most clergy, including this one, are actually introverts. Hence, the clergy retreat is right up our alley.
This year’s retreat leader was the Rt. Rev. Frank Griswold, sometime Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church. During his five talks, Bishop Frank focused on the challenges of ordained life – and he pointed out one of the occupational hazards of being a bishop, priest, or deacon, and this occupational hazard is self-doubt.
Lest you think doubt happens only to lay folk like you, let me assure you clergy aren’t immune to doubt either. We doubt God. We doubt our work. And mostly we doubt our own self and our own self-worth.
Frank gently reminded us therefore about something we do know and preach about, but which we need to hear ourselves too. Frank reminded us that God loves us. Indeed God loves each and every one us, even clergy.
Frank then shared a number of tools that might help us to discover and strengthen this love. These tools include regular prayer, the engagement of scripture with our minds and senses, and the participation in the sacraments. Yet again, this should sound familiar to you, as these are the tools recommended by the church on Ash Wednesday for all of us during Lent. These are tools that help us all discover the love of God.
And Frank also called to our minds once again that God’s love is not something we need to earn. But God’s love for us is very much a reality. “The very fact that we are created is a sign of love,” Frank said. “The very fact that we are created is a sign of love.”
Furthermore, this love is not something that solely comes from the outside, but God’s love is also planted deeply into our hearts, deeply into our very being, waiting to be discovered, longing to be unearthed, craving to be found. And nothing and no-one can remove God’s love from our hearts. Indeed nothing you can do and nothing you can be can sever God’s bond of love with you.
Basta!
Without knowing what Frank would talk about, I had brought to the retreat an icon from my office for meditation. It is the icon of the “Mother of God of the Sign,” a particular type of icon of Mary and Jesus, which you find on page 2 of your bulletin. It is important to note that in this type of icon, Mary does not hold the Saviour of the world on her arm outside herself. But God’s incarnate love dwells inside Mary, deep within.
Of course, this is exactly the point of the Annunciation, which we celebrate today. When the angel announced unto Mary, God broke through the barrier between human and divine just like Gabriel’s stick breaks through the divide on the picture on your front-cover of your bulletin (see second picture), which is an early 16th century depiction of the Annunciation from my hometown. At the Annunciation, old difference, separations, and contradictions were overcome and God tore down the walls around our self-inflicted captivity and imprisonment.
And more: At the Annunciation, God took habitation in Mary.
God no longer dwells only in the heavens far away. But God dwells under a human heart. Mary is not just the human mother of the child Jesus, but Mary is the mother of God. Or better: Mary is the God-bearer. Mary bears God, who has a home in her.
This onetime, singular event, however, has consequences for the whole human race, too. At the Annunciation, God took habitation in Mary in a 
concrete way, but God took also habitation in humanity in more general terms. The divine flame, the divine presence jumped from Mary’s heart to our hearts and God took habitation very personally in each and every one of us, too.
Yes, God dwells in our hearts. God is intimately connected to who and what we are. God is closer to us than even our heart-beat!
The journey of Lent therefore is not just about removing the obstacles that keep us from embracing God’s love by naming and confessing the sins in our lives, in society, and in the world. Neither is Lent solely about discovering the beauty that God created us to be – as awesome as that discovery will be. But Lent should also and maybe foremost be a journey to claim our identity as God-bearers. It is about discovering, unearthing, and embracing God, who waits in our hearts, praying inside of us, embracing every part of our being, and yearning to be found by us, all the while loving us in ways too deep for words – each and every one of us.
Posted by ParishAdmin on March 21, 2012 under Sermons |
John 3:16
We have all seen the signs at public gatherings. Even on street corners there are people holding up signs with this one word and those two numbers. And some have argued that it summarises the Gospel. Martin Luther called John 3:16 “the Gospel in miniature.”
But, what makes it such a pivotal little verse?
Well, I believe there are two answers to this question.
Firstly, the verse speaks of God, whose Son has come into our world. This is a deeply theological statement that not only hints at God’s Trinitarian identity or points to the fact that God’s Son is truly human and truly divine. But it is a theological statement that speaks of revelation, of God’s will to be known in creation.
God does not desire to remain hidden and concealed. But God seeks to be recognised, wants to be in relation with creation. And the way God chose to be known is to be born as human being. In Jesus, God is fully revealed.
And why would God chose to be revealed?
This is where we get to the second answer to the question of why John 3:16 is so pivotal: God is revealed, because God is not without care for what He loved into being. Rather, we matter to God. God cares about us. Therefore, God seeks for us to have very best: God years for us to have life and have it fully. Or to put it differently: God wants to be known, because God loves us, loves us in ways too deep for words, too wide for songs, and too high for our understanding.
At the heart of the Gospel, at the heart of the Christian message, in fact, at the heart of God’s self-revelation is an understanding that God is love and God’s love is for us: for you and me, for each and every one of us, and for all of creation.
Of course, Christianity has no monopoly on love. But God’s self-revelation in, through, and by love features only this prominently in Christianity. Christianity celebrates love at its centre, as its fundamental tenant. Love is woven into the very fabric of the church’s identity and mission. And this is true, despite the fact that our hands are bloodied with acts of violence and our hearts often overflow with abhorrent words of hate.
Still, the still small voice of love keeps singing through the life of the church. The voice keeps singing, because it really isn’t the church’s voice, but God’s voice that sings in endless song: I am love and I love you. I love you whoever you are and wherever you find yourself on the journey. I love you individually as the single person you are. Even if you think you cannot be loved, even if you think you don’t deserve to be loved, even if you think this is all to no avail, even if you run away. Still, I love you, God says, in ways too deep for words, too wide for songs, and too high for your understanding. I love you, so you can love me back and so that my love through you can overflow into the world. As the mystic William of St. Thierry wrote in the 12th century:
“You[, o God,] first loved us so that we might love you. And that was not because you needed to be loved by us, but because we could not be what you created us to be except by loving you.”
Yes, John 3:16 is indeed a miniature Gospel.
And on this level we should all have buttons and stickers reading “John 3:16.” These stickers and buttons could invite our non-Christian sisters and brother to ask questions about this verse and they also could provide our non-Christian sisters and brothers with an explanation for our loving ways.
—
And this is exactly the problem, isn’t it?
Far too often those holding up signs reading “John 3:16” don’t stick to the love-part. But in a twisted way, some turn around the verse to say: If you do not love back the Son of God then eternal hell-fire will be your final destination.
Now, I could simply say, this is not what the verse says. And it doesn’t. And neither does John 3:16 define exactly what faith in God’s Son might look like.
However, this response seems to die quickly as we consider the rest of today’s Gospel, namely verses 17 through 21, which do indeed speak of condemnation.
At this point in my sermon, I remember what my preaching professor told me and which I shared with you last week.
Remember?
“Never ever preach about John.”
And it does get preachers into trouble, doesn’t it.
So, what to do? Should I start over and preach on Ephesians instead?
Well, it’s too late for this. So, let’s continue and face the music!
The challenge for us as we consider today’s text in its entirety is this: On the one hand we need to celebrate that the Gospel indeed can be summarised by John 3:16, which speaks so profoundly about God’s love for us and God’s yearning to save us from darkness, destruction, and death. On the other hand we should not minimize the other reality unearthed by today’s Gospel. Raymond Brown, a contemporary Roman Catholic theologian and biblical exegist, warns preachers, and I quote:
“Do not domesticate the Johannine Jesus. It is his style to say things that border on the offensive, … and even [offend;] but do not silence this Jesus by deciding what he should not have said and what your hearers should not hear.”
So, in the context of today’s Gospel text, what does this mean?
Well, to give one possible answer, let me share a little story, which happened to me while I was on sabbatical in 2010.
One of the seminars I attended was co-sponsored by the United Evangelical Lutheran Church of Germany and the Roman Catholic German Bishops’ Conference. It was a seminar on “death and dying.”
One afternoon, we heard lectures by a Roman Catholic and by a Lutheran theologian on contemporary theological approaches to a Christian understanding of life after death. In a final dialogue these two professors talked about the ????????????? ??????, i.e. the possibility of a final restoration of all, regardless of what they did or did not believe, regardless of what they did or did not do here on earth. Both theologians advocated a form of Universalism, which maintains that a merciful God will in the end not condemn anybody to hell for ever. Yet, some of us were not fully convinced, especially considering what scripture has to say.
At the heart of this issue is the dichotomy between justice on the one and mercy on the other hand. Those advocating for clear judgment raise these questions: Is forgiving everything and anything really a proper response especially when we consider the victims? Would this not violate divine justice? And on the other hand those advocating for a Universalist view ask: Is there really anything we can do here on earth to warrant eternal damnation? Would this not violate divine mercy?
In our discussions in 2010, we could not solve this dilemma. It is a tricky business, a very tricky business indeed. And I cannot offer a comprehensive solution that honours both mercy and justice, and that also honours the biblical revelation. If I could, I’d be writing books that would earn me fortunes…
But I might offer a way out of this conundrum:
I, for one, believe both positions, both justice and mercy, reflect a deeper truth. Both justice and mercy reveal God’s love. They are the opposing sides of the same coin: yes, opposing sides, but opposing sides of the same coin, nevertheless. And only in God’s economy and wisdom will these two sides be reconciled, and reconciled in such ways that will neither violate justice, nor violate mercy, and that will above all not violate love.
And maybe, rather than flip the coin to see which side lands face-up, we need to discover how to use the coin differently, how to use it to build God’s kingdom. Maybe rather than obsess about questions of heaven and hell, we might focus on building God’s kingdom of justice and mercy, God’s kingdom of love.
Which brings me back to today’s text and to John’s dichotomy.
If we use John 3:16-21 to exclude and condemn unbelievers, we miss the point.
The energy of the text is not directed towards those who in our contemporary understanding of the term “do not believe.” This is not a theology of exclusion. But faith and unbelief are defined rather differently here. For John, true faith, the only faith, which counts in God’s kingdom, is a faith that is neither born out of a superstitious belief in miracles, nor a faith that remains by itself. Rather it is a faith in God’s love that came to dwell among us in Jesus Christ and that compels us to witness to it. John takes issue with those who have experienced God’s love and do nothing about it, those who consciously decide to keep God’s love a secret.
Today’s text is the continuation of the story of Nicodemus, who we meet at the beginning of chapter three. Nicodemus recognised the divine love in Jesus, but he came to visit Jesus in secret: “by night,”[1] John tells us. And Jesus is not at all happy, because Nicodemus saw, but did not understand the full power and the full implications of the revelation of the divine love. God’s love is not for holding on to, but it is to be shared, and shared abundantly.
In a world held captive by darkness, John wrote a gospel to encourage those who celebrated and proclaimed the Gospel of love in word and action and whose witness had left them on the margins. The Gospel told these: “You get it. You really are Jesus’ disciples. You really belong to God’s kingdom of love.” And John encouraged them to continue to stand up for love, a love that will overcome all darkness, all destruction, and all death.
Translated into our context, this does not mean we can use the Gospel in an outrageously sarcastic way to mock and condemn those who do not believe. But the Gospel encourages us to become agents of God’s love in the world and for all people, whoever they are.
Posted by ParishAdmin on March 14, 2012 under Sermons |
Lent is not an easy season, because in our struggle to get through the winter-blues this season is too gloomy and too solemn. Can’t we just have one nice March, for crying out loud?
Lent is also not an easy season, because it is just not good marketing!
Talking about our need for repentance and reconciliation, advocating for fasting and abstinence is not how we get new people into our church, right?! This is unattractive and we should find more colourful, more joyful, more celebratory, and more fun ways to talk about our faith. Every fibre of my liberal Christian identity screams out as we continue talking about sin, sin, more sin, and then even some more sin…
It’s not that I think we don’t screw up. We do! But can’t we talk about it in another way? Isn’t this sin-talk really off-putting and aligning us with the likes of TV-Evangelists who foam at the mouth?
In all seriousness: Yes, many of our “sistren” and “brethren” forget far too often that the Gospel is good news, not judgmental and condemning news. Using the threat of hell-fire and eternal damnation as a means to bring people into the fold (and as a way into their wallets and purses) really isn’t what the Gospel of Jesus Christ is all about. I bet a contemporary earthly Jesus would be abhorred about the way his revelation of the divine love is twisted by some oh-so-self-righteous Christians.
However, as much as the Gospel isn’t about fear-mongering, it isn’t about euphemising the reality of our lives either.
The Gospel is about truth. It reveals the truth about God and it speaks truth into our lives.
Yes, God is a God of compassion and a God of love. Yes, God looks at each and every one of us and rejoices in the goodness of His creation: Each and every one of us individually was loved into being by God and God affirms that you and I are a good creation. The book of Genesis says about our creation: [ki tow], which is Hebrew for: “It was good.” – In fact, it was [tow meod], very good indeed.
Yet, unfortunately it doesn’t stop here.
The truth equally is this:. We have violated and are still violating creation. We have abused and are still abusing one another. We have desecrated and are still desecrating the beauty of our inner selves. And we have ignored and are still ignoring the will of God. The Gospel calls this “sin.” It is about missing the mark. And sometimes, despite of what some marketing analysts might recommend, we must call a spade a spade: We are the beloved children of God, but at the same time we are all sinners. None of us cannot not sin.
The church’s job therefore is to celebrate God’s beauty and to acknowledge that not everything is right. Christians are those children of God who are willing to bathe in the sun of God’s love and who are equally willing to stand by the cross of Jesus where all that is hurtful, all that is painful, and all that is harmful is revealed in all its ugliness and darkness.
Lent is about all this.
It is about being truthful. It is about waking up and smelling the coffee. It is about admitting that we are powerless over the harm we have caused and the sin we have committed. It is about trusting that God, and only God, can and will restore us to wholeness and life and will remove everything that distorts the beauty that God intends for us.
Today’s account from the Gospel according to John is all about this, too.
But beware!
Beware, because the Gospel according to John is not an easy book to comprehend. My preaching professor in seminary frankly told us that we should never ever preach on John. Furthermore, I know there are some among you who can’t stand John. And I sometimes understand why. After all, John has had an, shall we say, interesting impact on the life of the Church…
So, let me state the obvious first as we consider today’s Gospel reading: The text is not meant as a justification for us to forcefully remove all those, who seem to defile the holiness of the Temple, the holiness of the community. The Gospel is not a weapon to throw out misfits or exclude those who disagree with us. And yes, I say this fully aware that in our tradition’s history we did pass often violent judgment on those who are different, those who do not fit in, and those outside of church and society. The Gospel does indeed reveal what is wrong in our lives and offers a way out of all that harms us. But this is not a condemnation of our God-given identities in all their diversities! Rather, this is an invitation for all to be included, for all to come home to God – just as we are. And it is an invitation to discover the voice of God in even the most unlikely of places through the most unlikely of voices.
It would also be a little too simplistic to see today’s passage from John solely as a call to let Jesus do unto us as he did unto the Temple. Yes, this is very much in line with verse 21, when it is made clear that Jesus speaks of the body as a temple. And indeed, rather than misconstrue this season of Lent as a time that condemns and dooms us, we should understand Lent as an invitation to let God remove all those things that hinder us to discover for God’s love. Lent is like a spring-cleaning to rid us of sin.
However, there is something additional going on here, something a little bit more complex. And it is revealed as we discern these questions. Who really is the target of Jesus’ outrage? Is it the merchants? Or is it rather those who let into the Temple those merchants? Is Jesus rather railing against the priestly cast?
The context for Jesus’ strong reaction would have been quite obvious for his contemporaries, who did not at all gel with the priestly elites.
This, however, is no condemnation of the priesthood per se. Nor is it a slant against Judaism.
Unfortunately, the Gospel of John has been used far too often to justify outrageous and unbiblical rants against our Jewish sisters and brothers. We all know that the church’s tradition of anti-Judaism contributed to the gas chambers of the Third Reich, an unimaginable and unparalleled evil in human history. Therefore, as we consider the biblical witness, we must remember always that Jesus and his disciples where good Jews first. Anti-Semitism is a sin, is a violation of God’s will, and there is no room in the church for any form of Anti-Semitism. The supposed anti-Semitic passages in John are not meant to condemn God’s chosen people, but they are part of an inner-Jewish discussion at a time when Christians were still very much part of the Jewish synagogue. Instead, the comments in John in general, and the comments in today’s Gospel in particular condemn the behaviour of those who are charged with proclaiming God’s will, God’s love, and God’s justice, but who have been corrupted by the oppressive powers of their time, namely the Roman Empire.
Jesus’ target is not the worship in the Temple, is not his own tradition, is not the office and ministry of the [kohen], the priest. But Jesus rails against the entanglement and ensnarement of the priestly cast of his time with those, who violate God’s law, oppress God’s people, and bring about war and destruction. Furthermore, through the words of today’s Gospel God is still railing against the powers that ignore justice and peace, but preach and practice hate, violence, and destruction instead.
And we are all entangled in these powers.
As I said above, we cannot not sin. In our personal actions and omissions we all too often rebel against God’s law. And there is more: Today’s Gospel speaks also to our entanglement in a global system that leaves too many behind, and that brings about death and destructions to our own race and to creation as a whole. The catastrophe in Fukushima, whose first anniversary we commemorate today and whose victims shall not be forgotten, is not just a natural disaster. The nuclear meltdown also points to our entanglement in the exploitation of our planet.
So, what to do?
Well, Jesus offers to build a new Temple, a new way of being in this world, which is grounded in the life-giving message of the Gospel.
And this is not a moralistic call that rewards right behaviour. But it is about a reorientation of our lives, away from our selfish schemes, away from our carelessness and ignorance, away from personal and societal sin and towards a deep and abiding relationship with our triune God, with our neighbour, whoever they are, and with the beauty that God intends for each and every one of us.
I believe Lent can help us in claiming this reorientation for our lives.
I believe that by the way we worship during these 40 days, by prayer and fasting, by studying God’s word, by reaching out to others, and by affirming the goodness of our creation without denying the evil we have done, the evil done on our behalf, and the evil that enslaves us – by doing all of this we can reorient ourselves to the source of all life that was fully revealed in Jesus. It is about being intentional in our journey towards Good Friday as much as on our journey towards Easter.
This might not be a great marketing strategy. But it does offer life, for you, for me, and for all of creation.
