I have absolutely nothing profound or particularly inspiring to say today. I have been writing tomorrows sermon using the psalms and I was reminded how Psalms are Hebrew poetry.... which lead me to revisit some of my old poetry.... which took me to witty limericks. Circle of life stuff. But I have to say that there is something to be said for laughter, so here are some of my favourites.
The hapless church tenor, young Horace,
Had skin that was terribly porous.
Sometimes in the choir
He’s start to perspire
And nearly drown out the whole chorus.
___________________
There was a young lady named Bright
Whose speed was far faster than light
She went out one day
In a relative way
And returned home the previous night.
___________________
A flea and a fly in a flue
were stuck so what could they do?
"Let us fly," said the flea!
"Let us flee," said the fly!
So they flew through a flaw in the flue!
___________________
There was an old man of Darjeeling
Who boarded a bus bound for Ealing
It said on the door
`Don't spit on the floor'
So he stood up and spat on the ceiling
___________________
A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His bill will hold more than his belly-can,
He can take in his beak
Enough food for a week
But I'm darned if I know how the hell-he-can
___________________
There was an old man from Peru,
Who dreamed he was eating his shoe
He awoke in the night
With a dreadful fright,
And found out that it was quite true.
___________________
An epicure dining at Crewe
Found a very large bug in his stew.
Said the waiter, "Don't shout
And wave it about,
Or the rest will be wanting one too."
___________________
There once was a vicar from Ryde
Who fell down a sewer and died
Then his silly old sexton
Fell into the next one
And now they’re interred side by side
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
to confirm or not to confirm, that is the question...
Much to my astonished delight, I’ve begun teaching another round of confirmation classes. The three churches and their respective clergy (3 priests and a deacon - sounds like the start of a joke) have gotten together again for this adventure and after last week, I find myself looking forward to tomorrows class. I always make the comment on the first class that if any are there because their parents or their grandparents say they have to be confirmed, and if by the end of the classes the participants decide, for whatever reason, not to be confirmed yet, I’d stand with them and back up their decision with mom and grandma. I make sure they know that we are there to help them explore what it means to be a Christian, what it means to believe, what it means to have faith. We go through the Apostles creed and the questions they will be asked by the bishop in the confirmation liturgy so they feel confident in answering them with integrity.
This latest crop of kids is wonderful. The first question was “Should we be taking the creation story literally or as a metaphor?” They weren’t even thrown off when I asked which creation story they meant, Adam and Eve or the 7 days OR when I asked what they thought! In fact it just prompted more discussion. What about the parables? What about the beasts in the book of Revelation? What about the antichrist? What does prayer do? What is the Trinity?
Tomorrow we’re talking about Teaching, Fellowship, Breaking Bread and Prayers – It promises to be a packed evening, but I can’t wait to hear where the discussions go. My own spiritual life has been dragging for the past little while, so I hope their enthusiasm can enliven me. Sounds like the point I may use to teach what fellowship is… Christians gathering together to encourage each other in our own faith journey.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Top 8 cliche's that are NOT helpful....
I’ve been thinking about all of the rhetoric that has crept into church-speak or christianese – as a friend calls it, and quite frankly some of it is just really bad theology. Most of these are things that are assumed to be scriptural…. that is sooooo not the case! This is far from an exhaustive list, I welcome other contributions!
1. "Love the sinner hate the sin"
On the surface it doesn’t seem so harmful in and of itself, but it is all too often used as a weapon to legitimize hate or bigotry or racism or sexism or any number of sinful behaviours. It's a simple catch phrase that has a shallow meaning that all too often results in feelings of superiority on the part of the quoter. It's actually from St. Augustine. His letter 211 (c. 424) contains the phrase Cum dilectione hominum et odio vitiorum, which translates roughly as "With love for mankind and hatred of sins."
2. "God helps those who help themselves"
also not in the bible - it comes from Aesop and should read "The gods help those who help themselves" Great news for a capitalist market economy, not so great for any who have read the sermon on the mount.
Following on this theme we have:
3. "...money is the root or all...evil." Not scriptural, money certainly does complicate things – but the root of ALL evil? I wholeheartedly disagree. Not all evil is the same; Power and lack of compassion and many other things contribute to evil so to say the root of it is the same, is (in my opinion) reductio ad absurdum
4. “All you need to do to go to heaven is ask Jesus into your heart.”
This isn't scriptural either - nowhere does scripture tell you this is a requirement. While we’re on the subject I don’t think we have a “Jesus shaped hole in our hearts” either… gahhh!
5. "We are called to be IN the world but not OF the world."
The closest I can see is John 18:36 - but that one says that JESUS is not of this world... not us - we are not Jesus. We have to be OF the world. We don't have to accept all the crap, but we have to be willing to wade in and get dirty. It has airs of "this is good enough for you, but I'm better than all this". What a crock of crap.
6. "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away".... sounds scriptural because the quote is in KJV language, but it’s yet another one not found in the bible! (*correction: See Fr Aaron's note below.... I still think it is not pastoral or helpful - but I appreciate the scripture reference correction!) I cringed the other week when I heard this (without the “eth’s”) told to someone at a funeral. How on earth is this to be comforting?
7. “God needed another angel in heaven” (as an explanation why someone died). Patronizing, horrible, hurtful and just trite. Never, ever ever EVER say this to someone whose loved one has died. I can’t stress that enough. Just say no.
Last and certainly least…..
8. "God Doesn't Give Us More Than We Can Handle"
This is probably one of my most hated sayings. It is utter crap. Some sources attribute it to Mother Tereasa, but others say that's not right either. Either way, this is a good one to get out of our lives too! I know I've been in way over my head and the only relief was to cry out and lean on God and those around me for support. I think God is with us in our trials, but certainly doesn’t give them to us to test our faith and this implies.
This could have originated from a misguided interpretation of 1 Corinthians 10:13.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
With love from India
I’m reviving my long stagnant blog, just for today perhaps, but maybe again..... you never can tell.
I’ve been getting a lot of phone calls from telemarketers. One specific variety of scam artist telemarketers. You know the kind, because I know I’m not the only one being targeted. They are the fast talker variety. Ones with Indian accents - this one happened to be from the North of India. How do I know? Certainly not that I can tell the subtle regional changes of his native Hindi language while he spoke English, but because I asked him.
I patiently listened to his spiel, “We are receiving error reports from your windows computer and as I work for the company, I can walk you through the changes to repair the damage”
When he asked if I was in front of my computer, I simply said “no”. He said, “that’s OK, I can wait while you turn it on.” But alas, that’s where the conversation changed. I think it’s because a friend of mine worked for a shyster of a telemarketer here in Canada for 2 weeks, or maybe because I’m just tired of all the scams. But I told him, that I hoped he was out there looking for another job. One that he could be proud of himself for doing. One where he could look in the mirror at the end of the day and know he wasn’t scamming people. He challenged me and asked if I could do that and if I could, what did I do. I told him I was a priest – that some days I was proud of what I did, but I also know that I could always do more – that it was hard. We spoke for 20 minutes. I told him he should get out of that job and find some way to live without profiting through taking advantage of people. I told him he was worth more than just running scams. He laughed and said I was like his mom when I told him that he was better than that. Smart mom. He has a degree in Business Administration, and can’t find a job. This was all he could get. He’s 23 years old, far from his home and staying with friends. He has a sister who has a job and, as he said, “is a good girl, not like me, the hacker.” I could hear the resigned way he spoke. Like he dreamed of something more, but also how he didn’t know if he would be able to do it.
There was a raw honesty in our conversation. He asked me to pray for him. And he asked if he could write down my phone number and call me again when he had a better job. Absolutely.
He is the second person from this particular computer scam that I’ve had this conversation with. The first has called me twice since saying how hard it is to find another job, but he’s still trying – and to thank me for believing in him.
What sort of a world do we live in where so many young articulate people can’t find legal employment? Think of that next time you speak to a company after hours and the person on the other end of the phone has an Indian accent and calls himself “Mike” instead of “Manjeet”. Instead of complaining that our jobs have been exported, give thanks that another person is able to feed their family (probably their entire extended family on that one salary). After all, that could be my new friend in India, finally being legally employed.
I’ve been getting a lot of phone calls from telemarketers. One specific variety of scam artist telemarketers. You know the kind, because I know I’m not the only one being targeted. They are the fast talker variety. Ones with Indian accents - this one happened to be from the North of India. How do I know? Certainly not that I can tell the subtle regional changes of his native Hindi language while he spoke English, but because I asked him.
I patiently listened to his spiel, “We are receiving error reports from your windows computer and as I work for the company, I can walk you through the changes to repair the damage”
When he asked if I was in front of my computer, I simply said “no”. He said, “that’s OK, I can wait while you turn it on.” But alas, that’s where the conversation changed. I think it’s because a friend of mine worked for a shyster of a telemarketer here in Canada for 2 weeks, or maybe because I’m just tired of all the scams. But I told him, that I hoped he was out there looking for another job. One that he could be proud of himself for doing. One where he could look in the mirror at the end of the day and know he wasn’t scamming people. He challenged me and asked if I could do that and if I could, what did I do. I told him I was a priest – that some days I was proud of what I did, but I also know that I could always do more – that it was hard. We spoke for 20 minutes. I told him he should get out of that job and find some way to live without profiting through taking advantage of people. I told him he was worth more than just running scams. He laughed and said I was like his mom when I told him that he was better than that. Smart mom. He has a degree in Business Administration, and can’t find a job. This was all he could get. He’s 23 years old, far from his home and staying with friends. He has a sister who has a job and, as he said, “is a good girl, not like me, the hacker.” I could hear the resigned way he spoke. Like he dreamed of something more, but also how he didn’t know if he would be able to do it.
There was a raw honesty in our conversation. He asked me to pray for him. And he asked if he could write down my phone number and call me again when he had a better job. Absolutely.
He is the second person from this particular computer scam that I’ve had this conversation with. The first has called me twice since saying how hard it is to find another job, but he’s still trying – and to thank me for believing in him.
What sort of a world do we live in where so many young articulate people can’t find legal employment? Think of that next time you speak to a company after hours and the person on the other end of the phone has an Indian accent and calls himself “Mike” instead of “Manjeet”. Instead of complaining that our jobs have been exported, give thanks that another person is able to feed their family (probably their entire extended family on that one salary). After all, that could be my new friend in India, finally being legally employed.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
Sunday Sabbath Sermon
It was a sweltering hot day
Completely unlike the hottest day we’ve ever had here
It was 40 degrees in the shade
(That’s 105 in Fahrenheit for Imperial minded folks!)
But it’s a dry hot.
a desert hot.
an unbelievable hot.
One of those days where it’s soooo easy to get dehydrated
Where you can feel your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth
Where even your eyes start to feel sticky… dry
And with our water bottles in hand
We walked up the hill
To the city of Capernaum
We stopped to look at the amazing architecture.
We saw Peter’s mother-in-law’s home,
We could see the olive presses that had been dug up and put on display
The mill stones
The rubble that was left of the ancient city walls
And over to our left, we saw the synagogue.
Even though it was not all in tact, you could get a feeling for the scale
For the height of the building
For the magnificence that it would have shown.
We entered the ruins
It was just after one pm and we sat in the shadow that one of the walls was starting to give
It was a Sunday.
There were all sorts of other groups there, the Roman Catholic Nuns that we often saw.
They were as recognizable with their yellow scarves as we were with our Tilley hats!
And there were two other groups.
One of them was an Italian group sitting in the shade by the Eastern wall.
The other were some Americans… you could always tell the Americans!
We were taking in the place
Wondering what it would have been like when it was built
And then it happened.
I saw it like it was happening in slow motion
She was standing on the second row of stones,
maybe 2 feet above the stone floor
when her body went limp and she crumpled to the ground
We were all the way on the other side of the courtyard,
but it was unmistakable.
Something had happened
Maybe she passed out
Maybe it was more serious
But before we knew it,
one of our fellow travellers
was off like a shot
She sprinted across the courtyard
and made it there seconds after the woman hit the ground.
She was a retired Doctor,
but you’d never have known her age by how fast she ran.
She bandaged up her cuts and scrapes
Bound up her sprained ankle
Mixed up that ghastly gastrolyte solution that is full of salts to help re-hydrate the body (even if its taste actually makes you feel worse – that’s how grosse it is!)
She healed her.
In the synagogue
On the Sabbath.
The irony was not lost on a single person there.
That would have been scandalous!
Healing was work – and no work should be done on the Sabbath!
That’s why it’s pointed out at the end of our Gospel today!
“Now that day was the Sabbath”
…. that day that Jesus healed
Sabbath comes form the Hebrew word “Shabat” meaning rest
A day set aside for the renewal of your spirit.
Of your body and your mind
Rest for the weary.
And renewing your relationship with the divine.
I remember my grandfather (a PK himself) … PK – priest’s kid
saying that Sunday’s were torture. He’d have to go to church 4 times a Sunday
and when he wasn’t at church he wasn’t allowed to play with his brothers or his friends,
but they stayed in the house and read.
Meals were very simple
He didn’t find it renewing, he found it constraining.
In fact, by the time he was 20, he figured that having gone to church 4 times a Sunday all his life, he was done till he was 80!
He didn’t find that Sabbath observance refreshing or renewing!
How many mothers are in the church today?
How many of you would like to evoke the Sabbath day rules today… you know – the no work rule – no house work, no cooking
Maybe being pampered by their kids.
How many of you think that this will be a reality today?
How many of you think this would be a reality every Sunday?
Exactly!
Do you remember the debate that happened a few years ago about Sunday shopping?
The uproar about whether or not stores should be allowed to open on Sunday afternoons – AFTER church?
I bet there are some of you who probably don’t shop on Sunday’s
And I bet there are some of you that do – and don’t even think about it anymore.
How many of you have noticed an odd trend that is happening now?
There are some stores that are cutting down on their hours and they are taking Monday’s off instead (I particularly notice this as Monday is my day off!)
Strange how some peoples Sabbath has shifted from Saturday to Sunday to Monday.
Is it Sunday or is it Saturday?
…. depends on who you ask… for me personally?
My Sabbath is Monday!
The Sabbath should be something that feeds your spirit.
That refreshes you
That reminds you of the joy of life
That renews your spirit and refreshes your relationship with the divine.
For me, a Sabbath rest is when I have some time to draw,
because it is through art that I feel most connected with God.
For others it might be music, music can touch our souls and make them sing again
For still others it might be nature, or crafts, or carving that helps centre you, that uses your creative outlet to connect with God.
Ohhh Sabbath Rest!
The day is unimportant.
The ritual, though helpful, is not the point
The refusal to do things you love for the sake of piety is also not the point.
and I would suggest, counterproductive.
The point is much deeper than this.
We need rest.
We need to take some time out from this crazy world
You might be thinking – that’s all well and good!
But I live in the real world!
I can’t just go off for a couple of days to retreat with the nuns at a convent
But you can take a Shabat… a rest, every week.
A mental break from the stresses and fears and worries that plague our minds and our hearts
Our attention is stretched in so many different directions.
From sick parents or children
To stress at work
To anything that weighs heavily on your heart.
But this is important.
We were not meant to work constantly like our computers.
We were not designed to be like an electrical outlet,
that whenever something new comes our way we have to be “ON”
Life doesn’t work that way
And if we try to, we can’t sustain it
that’s when we burn out.
When we cease to find joy in the things that once brought us such happiness.
So avoid that trap.
Take some time to be gentle with yourself
Make some time to calm your mind and listen to the stirrings of your soul.
Find a way to simply “BE” in the midst of the hassles and craziness.
You’ll be thankful you did
And your life will never be the same.
Thanks be to God.
Completely unlike the hottest day we’ve ever had here
It was 40 degrees in the shade
(That’s 105 in Fahrenheit for Imperial minded folks!)
But it’s a dry hot.
a desert hot.
an unbelievable hot.
One of those days where it’s soooo easy to get dehydrated
Where you can feel your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth
Where even your eyes start to feel sticky… dry
And with our water bottles in hand
We walked up the hill
To the city of Capernaum
We stopped to look at the amazing architecture.
We saw Peter’s mother-in-law’s home,
We could see the olive presses that had been dug up and put on display
The mill stones
The rubble that was left of the ancient city walls
And over to our left, we saw the synagogue.
Even though it was not all in tact, you could get a feeling for the scale
For the height of the building
For the magnificence that it would have shown.
We entered the ruins
It was just after one pm and we sat in the shadow that one of the walls was starting to give
It was a Sunday.
There were all sorts of other groups there, the Roman Catholic Nuns that we often saw.
They were as recognizable with their yellow scarves as we were with our Tilley hats!
And there were two other groups.
One of them was an Italian group sitting in the shade by the Eastern wall.
The other were some Americans… you could always tell the Americans!
We were taking in the place
Wondering what it would have been like when it was built
And then it happened.
I saw it like it was happening in slow motion
She was standing on the second row of stones,
maybe 2 feet above the stone floor
when her body went limp and she crumpled to the ground
We were all the way on the other side of the courtyard,
but it was unmistakable.
Something had happened
Maybe she passed out
Maybe it was more serious
But before we knew it,
one of our fellow travellers
was off like a shot
She sprinted across the courtyard
and made it there seconds after the woman hit the ground.
She was a retired Doctor,
but you’d never have known her age by how fast she ran.
She bandaged up her cuts and scrapes
Bound up her sprained ankle
Mixed up that ghastly gastrolyte solution that is full of salts to help re-hydrate the body (even if its taste actually makes you feel worse – that’s how grosse it is!)
She healed her.
In the synagogue
On the Sabbath.
The irony was not lost on a single person there.
That would have been scandalous!
Healing was work – and no work should be done on the Sabbath!
That’s why it’s pointed out at the end of our Gospel today!
“Now that day was the Sabbath”
…. that day that Jesus healed
Sabbath comes form the Hebrew word “Shabat” meaning rest
A day set aside for the renewal of your spirit.
Of your body and your mind
Rest for the weary.
And renewing your relationship with the divine.
I remember my grandfather (a PK himself) … PK – priest’s kid
saying that Sunday’s were torture. He’d have to go to church 4 times a Sunday
and when he wasn’t at church he wasn’t allowed to play with his brothers or his friends,
but they stayed in the house and read.
Meals were very simple
He didn’t find it renewing, he found it constraining.
In fact, by the time he was 20, he figured that having gone to church 4 times a Sunday all his life, he was done till he was 80!
He didn’t find that Sabbath observance refreshing or renewing!
How many mothers are in the church today?
How many of you would like to evoke the Sabbath day rules today… you know – the no work rule – no house work, no cooking
Maybe being pampered by their kids.
How many of you think that this will be a reality today?
How many of you think this would be a reality every Sunday?
Exactly!
Do you remember the debate that happened a few years ago about Sunday shopping?
The uproar about whether or not stores should be allowed to open on Sunday afternoons – AFTER church?
I bet there are some of you who probably don’t shop on Sunday’s
And I bet there are some of you that do – and don’t even think about it anymore.
How many of you have noticed an odd trend that is happening now?
There are some stores that are cutting down on their hours and they are taking Monday’s off instead (I particularly notice this as Monday is my day off!)
Strange how some peoples Sabbath has shifted from Saturday to Sunday to Monday.
Is it Sunday or is it Saturday?
…. depends on who you ask… for me personally?
My Sabbath is Monday!
The Sabbath should be something that feeds your spirit.
That refreshes you
That reminds you of the joy of life
That renews your spirit and refreshes your relationship with the divine.
For me, a Sabbath rest is when I have some time to draw,
because it is through art that I feel most connected with God.
For others it might be music, music can touch our souls and make them sing again
For still others it might be nature, or crafts, or carving that helps centre you, that uses your creative outlet to connect with God.
Ohhh Sabbath Rest!
The day is unimportant.
The ritual, though helpful, is not the point
The refusal to do things you love for the sake of piety is also not the point.
and I would suggest, counterproductive.
The point is much deeper than this.
We need rest.
We need to take some time out from this crazy world
You might be thinking – that’s all well and good!
But I live in the real world!
I can’t just go off for a couple of days to retreat with the nuns at a convent
But you can take a Shabat… a rest, every week.
A mental break from the stresses and fears and worries that plague our minds and our hearts
Our attention is stretched in so many different directions.
From sick parents or children
To stress at work
To anything that weighs heavily on your heart.
But this is important.
We were not meant to work constantly like our computers.
We were not designed to be like an electrical outlet,
that whenever something new comes our way we have to be “ON”
Life doesn’t work that way
And if we try to, we can’t sustain it
that’s when we burn out.
When we cease to find joy in the things that once brought us such happiness.
So avoid that trap.
Take some time to be gentle with yourself
Make some time to calm your mind and listen to the stirrings of your soul.
Find a way to simply “BE” in the midst of the hassles and craziness.
You’ll be thankful you did
And your life will never be the same.
Thanks be to God.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
building a house with St. Francis
Today as we gather together, we remember of one of my favourite saints;
St. Francis of Assisi. This humble man was absolutely astounding.
Most of us know St. Francis from the statues that we see in gardens, you know the ones – like the one on the cover of our bulletin today. He often has outstretched arms and a bird perched on his hand, and I bet if we could see he feet, there would be more animals gathered around there. He’s known as the patron Saint of animals and ecology.
But the story of St. Francis is so much bigger than that. St. Francis was a radical.
He took on the Gospel message with such passion and enthusiasm that he gave away all of his clothing, all of his possessions, even all of his fathers possessions.
He sought to live a life inspiring kindness in others, and offering Christ’s life-giving compassion to everyone he met.
There is one quote that when we only remember St. Francis as the guy with the animals, that we might forget about. St. Francis said:
Proclaim the Gospel always, and when necessary, use words.
AND WHEN NECESSARY USE WORDS.
Today, in this congregation we are gathering to do a rather remarkable thing.
We are gathering to proclaim the gospel with our action.
We are gathering to do something that doesn't require words.
I know in my own life, there are times when a hug can do more than words ever could.
There are times when a casserole can say I'm sorry for the loss of your loved one, but I'm here for you.
And there are times when having breakfast can build a house.
And that is what we are doing today, today we are gathering to build a house.
It’s absolutely amazing!
We are making God’s love known in a very intimate way for a family who is struggling and we are doing it together, simply by sitting down together to share a meal.
And you know what that makes it? a sacred meal.
Sacred because this morning is more than just breakfast.
We are gathering as a community to BE God’s love in a physical, tangible way.
We are sharing breakfast so we can build a house.
This is going to be a house that Anglican's built.
A house that will become more than just a house, it will be a place of rest for weary souls to lay their head, a house that will become a home for a family.
A home will be built because right now, this very morning, in this place we are choosing to live out the Gospel message of compassion and love with more than our lips, but with our hearts and with our hands.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Matthew 15:10-28
My Nana used to like me to send her my sermons... I find myself right now after the congregation has gone home, wanting to email her. The day after she died I deleted her email account - part of me wishes I had left it open so I could just send these off into space... but instead I'll post it here.
God be in our eyes and in our seeing,
God be in our ears and in our hearing,
God be on our lips and in our speaking,
God be in our heart and in our loving,
in the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen
A young couple was in a restaurant with their four year old son. They were being waited on by one of those experienced waitresses who never show contempt for a customer, but by their unhurried pace and level gaze make it evident they fear no mortal, not even parents. She jotted on her pad, deliberately and quietly, while the parents gave their selections, including substitutions and such. She turned to the boy and he began his order in a kind of fearful desperation.
“I want a hot dog,” he started. His parents barked in unison, “No hot dog!” The mother scowled at the boy who fell silent, and said, “bring him the vegetable and grilled chicken, milk and…”
The waitress ignored the parents and she looked directly at the boy. “What do you want on your hot dog?”
The amazed child said, “Lots of ketchup, and a pickle, too. And could you bring some milk?”
“Coming up,” she said and turned from the table, never even looking at the stunned parents. The boy watched her depart with astonished delight and then said to his dismayed parents, “you know what? She thinks I’m real! She thinks I’m real!”
That’s how you feel when someone listens to you: REAL
Today we have a very disturbing passage.
It feels like no one is listening to each other
A pleading cry pierces the scene:
“Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.”
I picture her on her knees… pleading… begging… looking for anything that can save her child. She seems willing to do anything – to say anything… anything to save the life of her daughter – to release her from her torment.
So she goes to the man known for his healing ability. To the one who stories of healings and compassion follow him everywhere he goes. The one who feeds thousands of people, and not only are they fed but he gets them to sit down together – shoulder to shoulder, breaking bread with strangers… people of different backgrounds different heritages… possibly different languages, genders, ages, socio economic statuses… She goes to this Jesus to plead for his help.
and how does Jesus respond?
He says nothing.
NOTHING.
He ignores her pleadings, he ignores her cry.
Then it says that the disciples are getting frustrated… “send her away” they say. “she keeps shouting at us.”
So it wasn’t just this one request. It was not just a one time on her knees pleading for her daughters life. She’d been there for a bit – she’d made herself known to the disciples and in their eyes, made a nuisance of herself.
At first glance, the next line feels as if it’s directed to the pleading woman… it seems as though Jesus is saying to HER that he was “sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”
It seems that she’s pleading with him and he changes his mind.
Like she caught him out… like he made a mistake…
But in fact, the wording is quite specific – He’s not addressing the woman, he’s addressing the disciples. He says to them. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” A teacher once wondered if Jesus could have said this with the intonation of a Jewish mother… “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel?” But regardless… the woman hears this… in whatever context it was said and she continues her pleadings… she kneels down and says “Lord, help me.”
And here’s the line – the one that stings – the one that we just don’t know how to take. “It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”
How have you pictured “the dogs”? Are they controlled animals at the whim of their master? Yappy, barky, needy, greedy? That’s the way the disciples would most likely have seen it. It would be extremely rare for a Jewish family to have a pet dog… especially one that would have had the opportunity to come into the house… that’s why to Jewish ears, this was a HUGE insult.
But the Canaanite woman would have both been likely to have dogs as indoor pets. So Jesus used an analogy that this woman would have understood. Dogs would be beloved pets. Pets that curl up around your feet, that sleep at the foot of your bed… they are different, yes, but they are loved parts of the family.
Then Jesus commends the woman on her faith, and healed her daughter. Healed her… Instantly.
He didn’t ignore her. He in fact listened to her in a way that none of the disciples were prepared to do. He spoke to her in a context that she would have understood. He heard her cries and he healed her daughter.
This is the groundwork for the Gospel to be taught to everyone – Jew, Greek, slave, free, male, female… the love and care was taught to us all and open to us all…
This makes the Jesus story universal. No longer is this message to be understood only for the Jews – it is meant for all to hear, it is meant for all to listen to.
And we know the message, it is one of hospitality. About how we treat one another… about how we live our lives, how we interact with each other and how we listen to the pleas and cries of each other.
Part of my role as a hospital chaplain was to learn the skill of listening. To be, what they call an “active listener”. To not just absorb what I’m being told, but to reflect some of it back to make sure the person I’m speaking with, knows that I’m paying attention – that they know they are not only being listened to, but they are being truly heard.
Because there are times when we have a conversation with someone and in our minds we are writing our shopping list, or composing our ever lengthening to do list.
You might in fact be doing that right now!
But we might also be simply waiting for them to stop so we can tell our story, so we can talk about the things going on in our lives. Because it feels like a rare thing to be truly listened to. To be truly heard.
It’s been said that you can listen someone back into existence. And I believe that is true. And we are called by the promises that we made or were made on our behalf at our baptisms:
“Will you strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being?”
How can we strive for justice and peace if we don’t listen to the suffering cries of people?
How are we respecting the dignity of every human being if we don’t listen to the pleadings of their hearts – to the desires to be heard, to the need to tell their story?
Our ability to make room for others, and the joy we do or do not find in such an activity, depends largely, I think, on our experience of being accepted or not, on our experience of being heard or not. We cry out into the world in hope that someone will hear that cry and reach out into the dark night of our lives and pick us up out of our abandoned and misunderstood exclusion.
We lose our focus on listening for the heartbeat of God in our lives and our relationships, and shift our attention to the heartbeat of our own concerns.
Yet God hears our cries.
Christ knows our sufferings.
The Holy Spirit strengthens us in our weakness helping us to makes space for each other.
For the past 5 years or so, I have carried this little piece of paper in my
wallet. It is a quote from 1 Samuel 3:10 and says “Speak, for your servant is listening”
So remember that waitress that I spoke about? Well she truly listened that little boy in to existence. She understood what the disciples needed to be explained and knew how important it was to be listened to, to be truly heard.
May we, like that waitress, follow Jesus’ example, and listen people into existence, listen people into life… and listen people into knowing they matter, that are important, that they are loved
….That they are in fact, REAL.
God be in our eyes and in our seeing,
God be in our ears and in our hearing,
God be on our lips and in our speaking,
God be in our heart and in our loving,
in the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen
A young couple was in a restaurant with their four year old son. They were being waited on by one of those experienced waitresses who never show contempt for a customer, but by their unhurried pace and level gaze make it evident they fear no mortal, not even parents. She jotted on her pad, deliberately and quietly, while the parents gave their selections, including substitutions and such. She turned to the boy and he began his order in a kind of fearful desperation.
“I want a hot dog,” he started. His parents barked in unison, “No hot dog!” The mother scowled at the boy who fell silent, and said, “bring him the vegetable and grilled chicken, milk and…”
The waitress ignored the parents and she looked directly at the boy. “What do you want on your hot dog?”
The amazed child said, “Lots of ketchup, and a pickle, too. And could you bring some milk?”
“Coming up,” she said and turned from the table, never even looking at the stunned parents. The boy watched her depart with astonished delight and then said to his dismayed parents, “you know what? She thinks I’m real! She thinks I’m real!”
That’s how you feel when someone listens to you: REAL
Today we have a very disturbing passage.
It feels like no one is listening to each other
A pleading cry pierces the scene:
“Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.”
I picture her on her knees… pleading… begging… looking for anything that can save her child. She seems willing to do anything – to say anything… anything to save the life of her daughter – to release her from her torment.
So she goes to the man known for his healing ability. To the one who stories of healings and compassion follow him everywhere he goes. The one who feeds thousands of people, and not only are they fed but he gets them to sit down together – shoulder to shoulder, breaking bread with strangers… people of different backgrounds different heritages… possibly different languages, genders, ages, socio economic statuses… She goes to this Jesus to plead for his help.
and how does Jesus respond?
He says nothing.
NOTHING.
He ignores her pleadings, he ignores her cry.
Then it says that the disciples are getting frustrated… “send her away” they say. “she keeps shouting at us.”
So it wasn’t just this one request. It was not just a one time on her knees pleading for her daughters life. She’d been there for a bit – she’d made herself known to the disciples and in their eyes, made a nuisance of herself.
At first glance, the next line feels as if it’s directed to the pleading woman… it seems as though Jesus is saying to HER that he was “sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”
It seems that she’s pleading with him and he changes his mind.
Like she caught him out… like he made a mistake…
But in fact, the wording is quite specific – He’s not addressing the woman, he’s addressing the disciples. He says to them. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” A teacher once wondered if Jesus could have said this with the intonation of a Jewish mother… “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel?” But regardless… the woman hears this… in whatever context it was said and she continues her pleadings… she kneels down and says “Lord, help me.”
And here’s the line – the one that stings – the one that we just don’t know how to take. “It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”
How have you pictured “the dogs”? Are they controlled animals at the whim of their master? Yappy, barky, needy, greedy? That’s the way the disciples would most likely have seen it. It would be extremely rare for a Jewish family to have a pet dog… especially one that would have had the opportunity to come into the house… that’s why to Jewish ears, this was a HUGE insult.
But the Canaanite woman would have both been likely to have dogs as indoor pets. So Jesus used an analogy that this woman would have understood. Dogs would be beloved pets. Pets that curl up around your feet, that sleep at the foot of your bed… they are different, yes, but they are loved parts of the family.
Then Jesus commends the woman on her faith, and healed her daughter. Healed her… Instantly.
He didn’t ignore her. He in fact listened to her in a way that none of the disciples were prepared to do. He spoke to her in a context that she would have understood. He heard her cries and he healed her daughter.
This is the groundwork for the Gospel to be taught to everyone – Jew, Greek, slave, free, male, female… the love and care was taught to us all and open to us all…
This makes the Jesus story universal. No longer is this message to be understood only for the Jews – it is meant for all to hear, it is meant for all to listen to.
And we know the message, it is one of hospitality. About how we treat one another… about how we live our lives, how we interact with each other and how we listen to the pleas and cries of each other.
Part of my role as a hospital chaplain was to learn the skill of listening. To be, what they call an “active listener”. To not just absorb what I’m being told, but to reflect some of it back to make sure the person I’m speaking with, knows that I’m paying attention – that they know they are not only being listened to, but they are being truly heard.
Because there are times when we have a conversation with someone and in our minds we are writing our shopping list, or composing our ever lengthening to do list.
You might in fact be doing that right now!
But we might also be simply waiting for them to stop so we can tell our story, so we can talk about the things going on in our lives. Because it feels like a rare thing to be truly listened to. To be truly heard.
It’s been said that you can listen someone back into existence. And I believe that is true. And we are called by the promises that we made or were made on our behalf at our baptisms:
“Will you strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being?”
How can we strive for justice and peace if we don’t listen to the suffering cries of people?
How are we respecting the dignity of every human being if we don’t listen to the pleadings of their hearts – to the desires to be heard, to the need to tell their story?
Our ability to make room for others, and the joy we do or do not find in such an activity, depends largely, I think, on our experience of being accepted or not, on our experience of being heard or not. We cry out into the world in hope that someone will hear that cry and reach out into the dark night of our lives and pick us up out of our abandoned and misunderstood exclusion.
We lose our focus on listening for the heartbeat of God in our lives and our relationships, and shift our attention to the heartbeat of our own concerns.
Yet God hears our cries.
Christ knows our sufferings.
The Holy Spirit strengthens us in our weakness helping us to makes space for each other.
For the past 5 years or so, I have carried this little piece of paper in my
wallet. It is a quote from 1 Samuel 3:10 and says “Speak, for your servant is listening”
So remember that waitress that I spoke about? Well she truly listened that little boy in to existence. She understood what the disciples needed to be explained and knew how important it was to be listened to, to be truly heard.
May we, like that waitress, follow Jesus’ example, and listen people into existence, listen people into life… and listen people into knowing they matter, that are important, that they are loved
….That they are in fact, REAL.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Peace
My Nana used to read my blog. I could tell when she visited, because I’d always get an email wondering why I hadn’t written more. Wondering what was going on in my life, and just generally saying hello. It’s strange to know that what I write here today will not generate an email from her. That she won’t be asking me to send her my sermon on Sunday afternoon. That next time I visit my parents and pick up the phone with my usual ‘hello’ I won’t hear ‘Oh Kristen… is your father there?’ She never said hello – it was one of her quirks. She’d never say hello to whomever answered the phone… and would always chuckle when my response to her question of my father’s whereabouts was ‘hi Nana… I’m fine, how are you?’ But that’s just how she was. It’s hard to use the past tense, I don’t like it, but I won’t have any other memories of her to add to my shelves. Those are all past tense. About things she did, things we did, things we all did together. Her 91st Birthday is 11 days from today. I’ll be spending the morning doing crafts at a VBS with kids from the local churches. The afternoon I’ll probably do some visiting. But in the evening, I’ll be up in this far away place, by myself, wishing I was again surrounded by my little family, watching Nana blow out the candles and laughing as she reverses her age and says she’s 19 again. So I’ll feel sorry for myself then, but for her, I’m glad. She told me how lonely she’s been since her husband died – it had been almost 45 years that she lived alone. 45 years of missing the one she thought she would be spending the rest of her life with. In her words – I’m not to be sad for her, for she has gone to be with her sisters, her parents, all her friends that she outlived, and especially, most specially, with her husband, whom she missed so dearly, and loved so deeply.
So I pray again the words I used at her memorial service; Rest eternal grant to her O Lord and let light perpetual shine upon her. May her soul and the souls of all the departed rest in peace.
I love you nana, and I miss you.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Walking in the Rain...
The beach was empty this morning when I went for my walk. There was a downpour for about 15 minutes and when the rain cleared, and some of the humidity had been taken from the air, the beach was peaceful. I walked for a couple of kilometres barefoot through the surf and the sand at the shoreline, sometimes going in up to my knees. The water was clear, but choppy and the wind whipped around me. There was no one around, so I sang to myself, skipped along, splashing in the water. I don’t think I’ve spent a lovelier hour than that in a while. Then back to reality, planning the worship services for a couple of nursing homes in the morning, finishing my little reflection and a Taize service in the evening, doing bulletins, while figuring out the details of a memorial service in a Church I’ve never been in and a burial in a Cemetery with a P.O. Box… Ahhh… Rural life!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
wire-less life
This past month has been an interesting one. Not only because I have my own little church to look after for the summer, but I’ve done it wire-lessly – as in unconnected… without cables – without the internet at home – which is also my office! It has been in my mind a month long retreat from being in constant connection. I have been in contact, I have used the internet and my email… and yes, even MSN, but I haven’t left it running in the background of my life. I haven’t let it take over much of my unscheduled time.
I’ve had mixed reaction to this I have to say. I discovered just how much I’ve grown to rely on that little “bing” someone is online, or I’ve received another message, even if it is just Amazon telling me about specials on their books or Yves Rocher telling me of their latest sale on soapy scented things. But what it has allowed me to do is use my time better. To feel like I can relax. To get some reading that I’ve wanted to do for so long, but the last year of seminary just wasn’t conducive to doing it! And just generally try to find my feet. At first, I felt lost, I felt like I was away from all my social network, away from friends and family and it was pretty lonely. At the end of the month, I can look back and say that I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I untangled my mind and spirit from all those wires and ties upon my time, for I’ve been able to do some pretty cool things with time that I would have otherwise simply lost.
Now, my internet is up and running again. The month long experiment is over. I wonder if I can keep up with what I’ve learned – perhaps I’ll have to make it an annual wire-less week. But I hope not – sitting in my car outside a closed wireless café fighting off mosquitoes and confusing police officers as to what my intentions were, grew pretty old!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)