Monsters

I had no desire to talk about this.  I want to make this abundantly clear, from the get-go.  I had no desire to talk about violence and brutality in this world at this moment, because I have long internalized a thought from Simone Weil's book "Gravity and Grace" that my wonderful wife bought for me a few years ago.  I don't remember the exact quotation, but it went something like this:

When personal tragedies happen, why do you lose faith in God?  You know that tragedies happen all over the world, every day.  You hear about them on the news, you read about them in books, in newspapers, you are attuned to the fact that all over the world, children are dying.  Your faith in God remains unshaken.  So why is your faith in God crumbling when it is children who live close to you?

The weight of the shootings in Connecticut is heavy for us right now, because this is close to home.

But let's not forget that there are murders all over the world every day.  For example did you hear about this story?  It happened earlier this month.  29 Syrian schoolchildren and their teacher were killed when a mortar strike hit their classroom.  None of us batted an eye.  None of us said 'how terrible, those poor Syrian children.'  None of us noticed.  Not really.  They're children a long long way away.  We sort of say 'how sad' when we hear about it, but nobody posts statuses about how they're going to hug their own children a little closer after they heard about that Syrian elementary school.

Part of the reason that we're so devastated by this news is that it hits us close to where we live, and it calls into question the foundations of our lives.  It calls into question where we are safe, where we can feel safe, all that.  What do we base our safety on?  And more importantly, where are the monsters?

Where are the monsters?  The old maps used to have dragons on them where the civilized explored world ran out.  When you'd draw a map up, where the end of the world was, as far as your people had explored, then past that was where the dragons were.  Well, that's how we still feel about the world.  There aren't supposed to be dragons or monsters in Muncie Indiana, Poughkeepsie NY, or Winnipeg MB.  The monsters are supposed to be confined to the far edge of the map, where they won't bother anybody we like.

Well, it's a cute idea, and one that lets us ignore when monsters roar somewhere far far away, at the edge of our maps, in countries we can't pronounce, and that's where the monsters are.  Okay, simple enough.  But how do we feel when someone from this part of the world suddenly becomes a monster.  Someone like us, with a name we could pronounce, with a face that looks like he could live here, what do we do with that?

Well, as much as we may want to believe that the monsters are at the far far edge of the map, they're not.  I mean they are, but they're very much here, too.  We just forget about them.  I talked about this at length on Sunday, but I'd like to mention it again.  Remember when you were a child, and you were terrified of the monster under the bed?  Remember when it was bedtime, and you got your parents to look under your bed for you, and in your closet?  Remember when you got your parents to shuffle all over your room looking for non-existent monsters?  Do you ever remember them finding any?  Of course you don't!  Your parents never found any monsters because they spent an entire evening looking in the wrong places.

If you're familiar with the simpsons, I'd like to spin you a yarn.  Every year, they have a halloween episode, which is 'scary.'  That is, it's totally played for laughs, of course.  And you're not supposed to be scared by what you see or hear, because it's supposed to be funny.  But there is one episode of the Treehouse of Horror series that has a line that chilled me then, and it chills me now.  It sort of comes out of the blue in a comedy series, an animated series, which never really seeks to terrify.  But this line did.  And it still does.

It all happens during the episode "Hungry are the Damned," in which the Simpson family are abducted by aliens whilst enjoying a family barbecue.  And they are told by their alien captors that they will be cherished, worshiped, allowed to do as they please.  And they are given just a whole tonne of food.  Well, whilst they are on board the flying saucer, Lisa happens upon the alien cookbook.  And she is shocked to see that the title is 'How to Cook Humans.'  She runs, gets her family, and they confront the aliens.  Then follows an hilarious sequence in which alternating parties blow the space dust off of the cover of the book, changing it from "How to Cook Humans' to 'How to Cook for Humans' to 'How to Cook Forty Humans' to 'How to Cook for Forty Humans.'  The final upshot is that the Aliens were actually nice, seeking to do right by the Simpsons, but because of their untrusting nature, they are kicked off the saucer, and put back at their house.  As the flying saucer flies away over the rooftops, Marge turns to Lisa and says
"You see, Lisa?  This is what we mean when we say that you're too smart for your own good."
And Lisa, staring up at the disappearing saucer says:

"There were monsters on that ship, and truly we were they."

That line still chills me.  I still get the ol' goosebumps even writing it down.  Why?  Because it tells me what I don't want to hear.  I've spent a lifetime looking for monsters under beds, in closets, in attics, in the forests and dark bowers of man's domains.  It started with me looking for monsters under my bed and in my closet, and as I grew up, I started to look for monsters in Syria, in Columbine, in Sandy Hook, in Virginia Tech, so that I could console myself that the monsters were over there.  Somewhere, anywhere else.  But gradually, ever so gradually, the truth of what Lisa said dawned on me.  I've been looking for monsters in all the wrong places.  I've been looking for monsters under the bed my whole life, and never bothered to look in the one place that the monster was actually hiding.

In bed.  With me.

If I would have taken the time to look, I would have found all the monsters I could possibly hope to ever find.  Truly there was a monster in my house.  And he was in me.

I was the monster I should have been worried about.  And more importantly, I was the only monster that I could do anything about.  The fictional monsters, the faraway monsters, all they'd do was to absolve me of my Christian responsibility to confront the evil and pain and disaster in the world directly caused by me.  Because you know what?  I can think all day about what someone in Washington or Basra or Hartford should do to make sure that people don't murder each other.  I can think all day about what hospitals should be opened in places I'll never visit, and what metal detectors will be installed in schools I'll never go to.

Or, I can do the much more difficult job of looking for the monsters not at the edge of the map, not where I happen to know that they aren't, but where I happen to know that they are.  In me.  In my heart.

We're at the time of Advent, where it talks a lot about preparing our hearts for the coming of the Lord.  And John the Baptist talks a lot about repentance, about making straight the way of the Lord.  And what on earth does that look like?  Well, it has nothing to do with pointing out everyone else's problems ,and feeling comfortable doing it, nah, it has to do with the dragons and monsters that are in my own life.  The Christian ethos says that everyone's sin is their business, and that means that your sin is yours.  It's tough medicine, to be sure.

I can't control what happens in Washington.  I can't control what happens in Hartford, or in Basra, or in Tehran, or in Beslan, or any of these other places.  I'm lucky if I can control, for just a moment, the monster in the mirror at 3825 Hillsdale St.

I hope everyone can find some degree of peace over Christmas this year.  I hope everyone can find some space in which they are confident in who they are, in what they believe, and in a loving God who allows us to be free, with real consequences, but at the same time promises that like in good horror movies, the monsters don't win.  The monsters get defeated.  And the greatest of all monsters, death, is no exception.  That's what Christmas is all about, you know, that days and weeks like these don't win.  They aren't victorious.

I'm going to leave us all with the verse from 'for all the saints' that always gives me the chokies.  Happy Christmas everyone.  The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it.  It's dark right now, but Christ the light has come.

 And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,

Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,

And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

The true meaning of Christmas

If you were around on Sunday, you would potentially have been quite jarred by the inclusion of the reading for the first Sunday in Advent:  The triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  Here it is for you if you missed it.

Jesus Comes to Jerusalem as King

²⁸ After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. ²⁹ As he approached Bethphage and Bethany at the hill called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, ³⁰ “Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. ³¹ If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ say, ‘The Lord needs it.’”
³² Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. ³³ As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?”
³⁴ They replied, “The Lord needs it.”
³⁵ They brought it to Jesus, threw their cloaks on the colt and put Jesus on it. ³⁶ As he went along, people spread their cloaks on the road.
³⁷ When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen:

³⁸ “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”^[a]

“Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

³⁹ Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”

⁴⁰ “I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

The heck is this doing here? Why oh why do we have this reading here, at the beginning of advent? This is a Palm Sunday reading, isn't it?  Of course it is.  Here we are, at the beginning of Advent, the new church year, and we get a reading for Palm Sunday.  What the heck is this all about? Well, as jarring as this is, it should get your brain all moving around, because you know that something's amiss.

Christmas is the time in which you and I think about the baby in the manger in Bethlehem.  As we should.  No trouble there at all. That's what Christmas is all about.  And you and I, as the qulaity Christians that we are, we tend to get a bit upset about the war on Christmas that goes on every year.  And we want desperately to keep Christ in Christmas, and to be sure that everyone else does too.  Odds are that over the course of the month of December, you're going to end up thinking to yourself one of the following things.

-If you're not going to wish me a merrry Christmas, then I'm not going to shop at your boutique.

-The people who don't want to say Christmas should just go to work on the 25th of December if they resent Jesus being around so much.

- Happy holidays?  Season's greetings?  Bah humbug!

Ah yes.  As you will.  But let's say for example that we get everyone on earth to say 'Merry Christmas." Let's say that we could manage to get everyone on earth to focus on the newborn Christ.  So what?  It's not enough.  It never was.  If you want proof of that, check out this most excellent scene from Talledega Nights: the ballad of Ricky Bobby.

Ah, yeah, it's funny right?  Possibly the best grace to ever be captured on film.  It's fun to see Ricky Bobby praying to eight pound six ounce baby Jesus, with his little balled up fists, all cuddly, doesn't even know a word.  And as Ricky says, he likes the Christmas Jesus best.

-"When you say grace, you can say it to grown up Jesus, or teenage Jesus, or bearded Jesus, but I'm saying grace, and I like the Christmas Jesus best."

And why wouldn't you?  We all like the Christmas Jesus best.  You know why?  Because he's cuddly.  Because he's smaller than us.  Because he can't say a word.  Because he's full of potential, but is totally inoffensive.  If your entire idea is to get people to think that Christmas Jesus is great, well, they probably will.  They've got no problem with that.  People have very little problem with newborn eight pound six ounce baby Jesus, with baby God, all that.  They've only got a problem with him once he starts talking.  

Look at this whole scene for a bit.  Don't you find it funny and out of place that Ricky Bobby is praying for all sorts of insane things, that it's all about money, that he has to mention Powerade in every grace by contractual obligation?  Don't you find it strange that he encourages his children to yell at their grandfather, because they're winners, and winners get to do what they want?  And that he says and does all this almost in the same breath as he says grace, ostensibly to Jesus Christ?

But he's praying to Christmas Jesus.  Baby Jesus.  Little tiny baby God, who can't say a word.  Little tiny Baby God with balled up fists and a little fleece diaper, who can't tell you not to do what you're doing.  Have you ever wondered what the heck the cross is doing in this circumstance?  How did Jesus ever get executed if he was just a cuddly little tyke, who had balled up fists and a fleece diaper and all that? Well, as grandpa Chip points out, he was a man.  He had a beard.  And he had things to say.

We have this reading in here to remind us that it's not just baby God, who can't even say a word.  We have a God who became a man, the Word becoming flesh and dwelling amongst us.  You see, it's not just a matter of there being a child born into the world, it's a matter of who he is.  And who is he?  The word of God in human form.

Listen to what God says about Jesus on the mount of transfiguration:  'This is my son, in whom I am well pleased.  Listen to him.'  Do you get this?  I hope it's not escaping you, because it's important.  It's so important I can't overstate it.  The presence of Christ in the world is not one in which he's a baby in a crib forever.  He grew up.  He spoke.  And his words are of such profound importance that we're still talking about them today.  He is the word of God proper, the word of God that demands to be heard.  He is the word of God that has something important to say, and something important to do.  If you're planning on keeping Christ in Christmas, it can't be just as a little tiny Baby.  it has to be as a child who lives, grows, and speaks.  Who says incredibly inflammatory things that would shame Ricky Bobby down to his boots.  If you want to know what Christmas is all about, take some time over this busy festive season to seriously look at what Jesus does and says right after Palm Sunday's readings.  Right after what I quoted earlier.  Do you think this is the sort of man who would be thrilled with you calling out how hot your wife is at grace? Or who would love you to mention powerade?  Or who would be happy to hear that your kids yell at their grandfather?  

Highly unlikely.

The only God that would let you do that would be an eight pound six ounce baby God.  And that's how Christ was born, yes.  But did he stay that way? He did not.  Have you ever wondered why we have almost nothing whatsoever written about Jesus as a child?  Because he didn't stay a baby God for long.  He is the word of God.  And we need to listen to what he says.

PJ.

It's the end of the world as we know it

Hey folks, and welcome to the countdown to the apocalypse.  Yes, it's true.  According to the Mayans, their calendar might possibly run out this year, in December.  This has ushered in a whole new realm of apocalyptical thinking, that we're on the road to disasters all over the place.  Yes, the Mayans, who couldn't forsee the coming of the conquistadors, are the authority now on when the world is going to end.

Of course, that's not fair.  You can see the signs all around you, can't you?  Earthquakes, rising sea levels.  Nation is rising against nation, bombs being dropped all over the world every day, it's a mess out there.  And is it just me, or does it seem to be getting worse?  Not one day goes by that we're not hearing about some new calamity or catastrophe. These may very well be the signs of the end times that Jesus was talking about in his discussion with his disciples.  He has all sorts of signs for them that the end of all things is about to happen.  Here, I'll let the man tell you in his own words:

²⁴ “But in those days, following that distress,

“‘the sun will be darkened,
    and the moon will not give its light;
²⁵ the stars will fall from the sky,
    and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’^[a]

²⁶ “At that time people will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory.²⁷ And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens.

²⁸ “Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. ²⁹ Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that it^[b] is near, right at the door. ³⁰ Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. ³¹ Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.
          
                                          Mark 13:24-31

Jesus tells you that you should take the lesson from the fig tree.  That is, when you see the buds appearing on branches, even when there's snow on the ground, you know that spring can't be too far behind.  Likewise, as Canadians, you know a more pronounced sign:  You know those hot summer days when the cool beer in the backyard tastes as good as anything, and the burgers are sizzling on the grill?  You know the days when you just have to break out the wading pool because it's a million degrees, and the summer feels like it'll last forever?  You don't even know where your extension cord is, because you'd be prepared to swear you won't need it from now until doomsday.  You know those days?  Well, as you're sitting in the backyard, all of a sudden, a single, solitary leaf falls from your backyard apple tree.  Well, that could be anything, right?  And then the next day, you wake up, and the neighbor's tree is looking a little yellow in the leaves.  Once again, it could just be a sick tree.  Nothing to get too concerned about, right?  But then, two days later, you look out at your yard, and it's hard to see the grass beneath the dried out leaf carpet.

Those trees are smarter than you.  They know that winter's on its way.  They know it, and they drop their leaves accordingly.  You and I, we try to deny it for a while, but we know, deep down, that winter's coming.  

That isn't to say that winter's here yet though . That's the thing about Regina autumns.  The leaves can be all on the ground, the trees can be completely barren, but it can still hit plus thirty.  And then summer almost always gets a death row pardon before we hit autumn proper.  But when the leaves start falling, you know one thing:  That summer isn't going to last forever.  There will be an end to it.  It's not here yet, but it will be one day.  One day you'll wake up, and the world will be blanketed in snow like it's Edward Scissorhands.

Now, back to the Bible.  If you've read through the book of Revelation, you probably have an idea that you're living in the end times.  You might very well be.  But I'd advise you to not get too interested in trying to find too many parallels between that book and the world around us.  Yes, it may very well be that this is the end of everything, and that a planet will crash into Earth killing us all.  But it may not.  You remember all the fuss that there was about that guy who predicted the rapture earlier this year.  Oh, yes, that's right, he predicted the rapture twice, and he was wrong both times.  And after doing so, he lost all his credibility, not only with the press and the public, but likely amongst his own followers, too. Yes, we all had a good laugh, as we will after December comes and goes this year, and the apocalypse doesn't happen.  And we'll get lulled back into a not entirely deserved sense of security, thinking that this apocalypse thing is just a load of old bunk.

But the picture that Jesus paints is not of a world immune from apocalypse.  Just one in which you should be aware that time is running down overall.  He flat out tells you that it's useless to try to predict when the end of everything will be. 

³² “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. ³³ Be on guard! Be alert^[e]! You do not know when that time will come. ³⁴ It’s like a man going away: He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge, each with their assigned task, and tells the one at the door to keep watch.
³⁵ “Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back—whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. ³⁶ If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. ³⁷ What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’”

                               Mark 13:32-37

Jesus says that you're not going to know the day or the hour.  You won't know until it's happening.  You won't know the master is coming home until he's at the gates.  You won't get the advance warning that you'd want, so you can get your house in order before he comes.  But that's not the point of this story, to predict when the end will be.  The point is, rather, that you know THAT the end will be.

It's a lot like the life of the individual human.  You're cruising along, perfectly fine for about 40, 45 years, then all of a sudden you wake up one morning, and your back seizes up completely.  No warning, nothing.  So you go to the doctor, and the doctor informs you that you have a bad back now.  That's it.  Take some aleve, and try to relax about it.  Louis CK will tell you all about it, though he has some blue language.  It's not like things were when you were younger, in which you'd throw your back out, then ice it, then be fine the next day.  No, now when you throw your back out, it's out.  When you hurt your shoulder, it never quite goes back to being fine again.  Always some slight twinges in it.  Nothing too terrible, nothing you can't live with, but it's a long way away from feeling normal.  But as these aches and pains coem up, they tell you something: You're not dying.  You're not suffering from imminent death syndrome.  But you know that you're not going to last forever. Up to a certain point, you may feel as though you're invincible; but then things start to change.

All of creation is like that too.  Is the world going to end in December of 2012?  Who knows?  Not us, certainly, and your guess is as good as mine.  But the point is not about predicting the end of the world, but it's about reading the signs that are there.  Just like you read the falling leaves in summer, and the buds on the trees in the winter, you can tell when the seasons are thinking about changing.  That season won't be here forever. So too, whenever disasters and calamities strike, when nations rise against nations, when all of creation groans, instead of thinking about this as just one more disaster to be averted then things are fine, remember that this world is winding down, and will one day stop.  When will that be?  Who cares!  Jesus tells us to be constantly ready, to be eternally vigilant.  He tells us that creation is winding down, but we will not know when that will be until it's too late, so be always on your guard.  Be constantly aware.  Know the signs, and know them for what they are.  A sign that this world will pass away, but the world of God will never pass away.  When we do finally get to the end of all things, don't worry, you won't mistake it for anything else.  

But if the world is stopping, and we're all going to die, if the sun is going to burn out one day, and there will be an eventual heat death to the whole universe, then what's the point of anything?  Is there any purpose or meaning to life?  Well, yes, there is, I'm happy to say.  According to the fight club rules of meaning: "On a long enough timeline, everyone's life expectancy drops to zero."  Yes, that's true.  However, what we Christians believe is that human beings go on.  That we don't cease to be when we die.  We believe that even though the world may end, civilizations (like the Mayans) may come and go, kingdoms may rise and fall, but people are forever.  That means that yes, the world will collapse one day, but how we treat one another is of cosmic importance.  What we do in the here and now, the small things, the little individual things that make up a day, an hour, a lifetime, all that stuff really really matters.  So, where do we find meaning in our lives?  What are we to do with a creation that is collapsing?

1 - "God blessed them, and said to them 'be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and subdue it.  Have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves on the earth" -Genesis 1:28.  We are supposed to have and be in families, to make relationships.  We are supposed to be husbands, wives, children, aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers and friends.  We are also supposed to take care of the world that we've been given, whether it's falling apart or not, it is ours to manage.

2 - "Here is what I have seen: It is good and fitting for one to eat and drink and to enjoy the good of all his labor in which he toils under the sun all the days of his life, which God gives him; for it is his heritage." - Ecclesiastes 5:18.  We're told that we are supposed to work, to be busy, but to enjoy the work.  We are never supposed to be idle, but working towards something worthwhile, that we may enjoy the fruits of our labor, and hopefully the purpose of the labor itself.

3 - "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." -Galatians 6:2. We are intended to look after each other.  Though this world may be spinning towards destruction, and everyone in it is for sure going to die someday, people are eternal.  We are supposed to work with each other, support each other, and care for each other.

4 - "Follow me" - John 21:19.  In the face of everything else, follow Christ.  Worship the Lord your God, and serve him.  Then all these things will be added unto you.  Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is man's all.  

Seems like a pretty straightforward plan, doesn't it?  But you're going to botch it, just like I do.  And that's okay.  Because the big punchline at the heart of Christianity is that it's never been about you doing it all the right way.  It's about what do you believe in when you fail?  Not in being perfect, but in being made perfect.  We do what we can while creation is broken and groaning, and we believe in the one who renews, who makes all things new, who draws all of creation to himself.  It's a curious thing, that even as all of creation spins towards collapse, we have one foot in permanence.  We know all things here will end, that creation will melt away like wax, but that there is a much deeper, greater reality that we are drawn to, through the curtain of the flesh of Christ, who opened up eternity to the temporal, and who brings us the impossible.  Forever and ever.  Amen.

PJ.

Atheists. Winning since 33 AD.

On Sunday, you may have heard me talk about the many and various ways and places in which people like to point out the insanity of belief in God based on the many and various things that go wrong in the world.  And the idea is that you can take a rough sampling of some stuff that happens, and look at it and say

"Well, if God was good, then he would stop this.  But he doesn't.  So either he isn't all powerful, or he isn't good.  And if either of those things is true, then why call him God?"

WINNING!

Okay.  That argument against belief in God is old.  It's super duper old.  It goes back to a time shortly after the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus himself.  And that's just this quote!

But the problem of evil is a thorny one.  If God was all-powerful, and truly wanted there to be good in the world, then how is there still evil.  How do we live in a world today in which the Syrian government is lobbing shells at its civilians, or the Israelis and Palestinians are firing rockets at each other.  How do we live in a world in which we have people doing a whole bunch of horrible things to each other, and yet we still say God is good?  How can we?

Yes, we live in a terrible world, in which people are terrible to each other.  And we ask the question, as we are wont to do, why doesn't God just get rid of all the evil in the world.  What's he waiting for?  He's all powerful, and ostensibly a cool guy, so why all the pain and suffering?

This is a scene that I keep on going back to again and again.  Why do I keep on going back to this trailer?  Because I sincerely believe that it hits a pretty major point in the problem of evil.  Bill Maher, in this most excellent trailer for his most excellent movie 'religulous,' asks a man dressed as Jesus why God doesn't just get rid of all the evil in the world, to which the guy dressed as Jesus (apparently an authority on this) says that He will.  And Bill Maher's response is "What's he waiting for."

That's apparently the knockout punch.  That's the devastating knockout punch to religion in general, and ones that have an omnipotent God in particular.  Ones like Christianity.  We have an all-powerful God who is good.  So what's with all the suffering?  Why doesn't he just obliterate all the evil in the world?

Well, I believe that a golden opportunity was missed in this scene by the guy in the Jesus suit not answering with the very real, very heartfelt answer that is lurking at the core of each individual Christian.  It's not one we think about very often, but it's really central to what we believe, and the problem of evil in general.  Why won't God wipe out all the evil in the world?  Because I don't want him to.

As a famous singer once said, 'if everyone wanted peace like they said they want peace, we'd have peace.'  And if everyone who said they wanted God to obliterate all the evil from the world actually wanted God to obliterate all the evil from the world, then there would be no more evil.  But I don't.  Sure, I might say that I want God to eliminate the people who are committing genocide, or crushing their own people into submission, or raping or murdering or what not.  But you know what?  Short of murder, I have no way of stopping those people from doing what they're going to choose to do.  So the one person over whom I do have control, i.e. me, I'm not really keen on changing what he does.  I don't think that any of my sins are that big a deal, that God should be worried about bigger issues.  It's like how you are when a cop pulls you over for speeding, and the first question you may ask is 'don't you have any real criminals to catch?'

But imagine a cosmic cop who could watch everywhere and be everywhere at the same time.  Imagine if said supercop was able to see everything that went on, and could perfectly punish every infraction, no matter how minor, it would be worth his time.  You see, we tend to think of our actions as being very similar to those watched by the cop.  And we tend to think that the stuff we do is no big deal.  God should be concentrating on the big stuff.  The Hutus and the Tutsis, the Palestinians and the Israelis.  He shouldn't worry about the fights and neglects going on in your own home.

But, of course, he should.  And he does.  If we expect him, as Epicurus does above, to be all good, and all powerful, then he should probably care about everything.  If we expect him to strike the genocidal dictators dead for their work, then why do we feel as though He shouldn't strike us dead before we raise a hand against our wives or children, or as we click a link on the internet that takes us somewhere we shouldn't go, or before we speak spitefully to a spouse, or take money that isn't ours, any of these times, why should God not strike us dead.

In many ways, the question is not so much 'why does God allow evil to exist,' but more 'why, in his infinite wisdom, does God see any good in any of this?'  Why did he allow free will in the first place if it was going to turn out so poorly?  Well, think of who you are, and what you do.  Think of yourself when you are at your best.  Think about what you do that is phenomenal and good, when you exceed even your own expectations, when you do what you know is the right thing, when you are good and generous to someone who really doesn't deserve it, and what do they say?

"You didn't have to do that"

It's true.  You didn't.  And that's what made it good.  If you had to, it wouldn't be a good work now, would it?  Nobody compliments their pizza delivery driver by saying 'yes you had to get here because it's your job to do so.'  Nobody says to their waitstaff 'hey, my food arrived at my table.  Good work.'  We tip these people when they go above and beyond what they absolutely had to do.  It's your free will that makes you a chunk of junk sometimes.  Yes.  But it's also your free will that makes anything you do worth doing.  It's only your free will that gets you beyond your obligation, and lets you do the works that are closest to the divine.  

If there was just something that you absolutely were compelled to do, by biology, by physics, by chemistry, it wouldn't be good or bad.  It would be neutral.  But God made us with free will, with the ability to be both good and bad, and with the ability to be loving or hateful.  And in the midst of all this, he made a promise through Jesus.  He promised the impossible.  He promised life everlasting, in which all the burden of sin would be taken away.  What does that mean?  That through Christ, and the forgiveness of sins, we can be both sinners and saints.  We have the free will to botch a thousand things a day up, and yet we can still take that sin to Christ and have it forgiven.

Can God prevent evil?  Only through getting rid of us.  

Is he able but not willing?  Yes.

Then he is merciful.  

To you and to me, to Epicurus and to Ariel Sharon.

To those who can do great evil, and to those who can be simply rude to each other.

Through the cross on which Jesus Christ died, and through his death, he broke the problem of evil.

We are bad, but God forgives.  There is justice and there is mercy.  

Jesus.  Winning since 33 AD.

Mitey mites

This last Sunday was the account of the widow's mite.  You know the story.  If you don't, here's a brief refresher.

Warning Against the Teachers of the Law

³⁸ As he taught, Jesus said, “Watch out for the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, ³⁹ and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets. ⁴⁰ They devour widows’ houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. These men will be punished most severely.”

The Widow’s Offering

⁴¹ Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. ⁴² But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.
⁴³ Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. ⁴⁴ They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

Thus far the text.  As I say, you know this story by now, or at least you've probably heard it.  The widow's small copper coins are referred to as mites, little tiny things.  And that's what she tossed into the treasury.  Looked like nothing, of course, but it ended up being everything.  

Now, this is the strange thing about the Christian faith - It's all on a case by case basis.  That is, you don't get to comfort yourself in comparison to someone else.  And that's quite jarring, given how the world in general views the world in general.  Think about the entire advertising industry for a second, if you will.  The entire advertising industry is predicated on the notion that you will be comparing yourselves (usually negatively) with the PEOPLE who are in the advertising campaign.  Yes, folks, it's true.  Take a look at any ad (not that you watch ads anymore), and ask yourself a big ol' question, which is "what are they actually selling me here?"  More than likely, it's not a product, it's a lifestyle that you'll never have, but that you think you want.  And you think to yourself "If only I had this one item, then I'd be those people."  But you won't, because those people don't exist, and never will.

Back to the widow for a second.  In real world terms, she gave very little.  She gave two small copper coins, worth practically nothing.  She gave just a handful of dust, and yet Jesus singled her out for a lesson to be taught here.  And it isn't just about money.  It's about who you are and what you do.

As I say, it's on a case by case basis, and each case is different.  And you and I have, well, some problems that we need to take care of.  A bunch of problems.  Things leaking out of our pores.  Bad choices that we make every single day.  But here's the juice:  something the Christian church has failed at, and failed badly at, is in not recognizing this as a real issue.  We know that Jesus is great, yes granted, but then after that, what is to be done?  Well, most of us have an idea about who we think is great.  It usually goes a little something like this:

Jesus

Martin Luther

C F W Walther

President of LC-C

District President

Me

Local Pastor

Other plebs.

The end.  And we, in the Christian church, very very rarely acknowledge the mites that actually get dropped off at the church, or honestly anywhere else.  You see, everyone ever has their own problems, their own bugbears that they have to deal with.  And the vast majority of people that I see have a bucket of problems that they just pretend that they don't, at least for the purposes of church.  But they do know what counts as a problem, and they are quick to point it out in others, mainly because, at least for the purposes of appearance, it sure looks like you're bringing a lot more to the table.  You've got a good German last name, you've got the Lutheran pedigree going way back, and you served on the board of Elders twice. Great.  That's the large sum you bring and drop off.  Your abundance of virtue and goodness.  And it's good stuff, don't get me wrong; it certainly looks like a lot more than anyone else brings to the table.  But that's where you and I always get into trouble.  You see, we have no idea how much anyone else is bringing to the table.  Do you know why?

Because we have no idea what anyone else has.

The only person whom you know sufficiently enough to be able to say 'he or she should try harder and be better,' is you.  Nobody else, mainly because you have no idea what is in anyone else's account.  You have no idea how many riches are stored up, if any.  The only person whom you have the slightest clue is you.  You know what your account is, both materially and spiritually, you know your abundance, and you know your weaknesses.  And sometimes, and you know this, it takes absolutely everything in you to surpass one moment of temptation.  It takes everything in you to not click a link, or to walk past the liquor store, or to not call that one girl, or to say 'no thanks, I'm good' when offered something, or to put your car keys down when you're about to drive, or to bite your tongue and say nothing when your wife or husband is leveling legitimate criticisms against you, or to go to church only once in a year.  You know what it takes.  And those are the mites.  Those are the offerings that look like nothing, but in reality are absolutely everything.  You put those on the line, and it looks like two small copper coins, worth less than a penny.  

But it's worth so much more, because it's giving everything.  

As someone's bathroom wallpaper once said, you'll never succeed until you make your weaknesses into your strengths.  The abundance that you have, it's not actually worth as much as your mites.  Your strengths are worth a whole lot less than your weaknesses, and it's on a case by case, moment by moment basis.  And the only points of comparison you have are

1 - You yesterday.

2 -  Jesus Christ, who actually did give up everything, to cover those moments of pride and arrogance, those moments of judgment, and those moments when you cling on tightly to those mites, afraid anyone should see that meager offering.  But your heavenly father, who sees what you do in secret, will reward you.  

PJ.

Putting the fun in funeral, putting the saints in all saints day.

Did you see that ice out there on Sunday morning?  It was craaaaaaaaazy.

For those of you who are in the Regina area, there's no way you could have missed it. It was bonkers.  Cars flying around like you wouldn't believe, cops directing traffic, semi trucks parked by the side of the road because they couldn't make it up inclines, all that.  If you would have been there, you'd know.

But this is that time of the year.  A time when winter gets going, and you realize just how at the mercy of the weather you are.  Oh sure, it seems simple enough when you're cruising along in the summertime when the living is hot, and it's all windows down and shorts.  But then all of a sudden, winter crashes in, and this is the time of the year when it does.

Now, we're at the time of the year in which winter is just getting going.  And it shows no sign of stopping.  And this is the time of the year when we as people tend to lose faith in things.  We tend to lose faith in the idea that it will ever be spring again.  We tend to lose faith in the idea that we'll ever just hop in our cars and just go, where you can go 50kph when the speed limit is 50.  Heck, you might even tempt fate and go 55!

But no.  Not now, not at the beginning of November.  You are stuck in the grip of winter, and it's not going to let go for half the year.  And it's just going to get colder.  It's summer for two months.  It's winter forever.

But then comes the curious story of what we in Calgary call the chinook.  You Saskies have probably heard of it, right?  The chinook?  It means 'snow eater' in latin.  But the chinook does something pretty precious for us Albertans.  It breaks winter up.

Now, to be absolutely clear for you Saskies who have no idea what I'm talking about, in this province, once the mercury dips below minus ten, it stays there for either six months or until the end of the world, whichever comes first.  And after a while, you start to feel as though ten degrees below zero is actually a pretty nice day.  And when you pile up snow all over your yard, you realize that it doesn't go anywhere, and you start to run out of places to stack it.  Because it doesn't melt.  It just stacks up.  And as Saskies, we spend half the year shoveling snow against our houses, and then a day furiously shoveling snow away from our houses, lest the foundation spring a thousand leaks come springtime.  But until spring, the snow just sort of hangs around.

In Calgary, you get a chinook.  And the temperature warms up.  Like, really warms up.  It gets super warm for about a couple of days.  And what happens when it gets warm like that?  People who have convertibles drive with the top down and the heater on.  Folks get outside and chip away at the ice on their sidewalks without wearing jackets.  And nobody in Calgary feels as though they have actually had spring arrive on January fifteenth, or whatever.  Nobody thinks that this warm spell is going to last for the rest of the year.  Everyone knows that the mercury's going to plunge again, no doubt.  But what the chinook does is to remind you that the winter doesn't last forever.  There is an end to it, and you get a little glimpse of it for a while.

And believe it or not, that's what a funeral service is, too.  When properly considered, that is.  Most of us think of a funeral as a time and a place to go and be sad.  And that would come as no surprise.  After all, we've lost someone incredibly important to us, someone who was a big player in our lives, someone who we're going to miss.  And it's like the onset of Canadian winter, the beginning of November, where you feel as though things are never going to be free and clear and easy again.  There's a hole in your heart all the way to China, and it's never going to go away.  It's going to be frosted over windows and plugging in the car from now to eternity.  The hole in your life is so big and so great and so immense, that nothing is ever going to make it better.

But then the funeral service happens.  And yes, you're sad.  But the point of the funeral service isn't to make you sad.  On the contrary.  It's to give you hope.  Think of the funeral service when your loved one passes away, as a chinook that enters the winter of your life.  Just when you think that winter's never going to end, just when you think that it'll be ice and snow and short days forever, all of a sudden, and out of nowhere, comes a reprieve. However brief.  What you do at a funeral service is not just talk about how great the person was who passed away, and I'll tell you why.

1 - You don't need any help remembering all the good things about that person.  It's all that's on your mind.
2 - Talking about how great something is that you've lost is a sure fire way to feeling even worse.

You know that's true.  Think about Canadian winters again.  You know how when winter really sets in, and someone always says the same thing:
"Remember in the summer when we were complaining about how hot it was?"
Yes, bozo, of course we do, and we are currently regretting it. Pretty much all you can think about when it gets to be about minus 30 is how cold it is.  It's all you think about, it's all people talk about, it governs your movement and your activity, your day is based around how cold it is.  It's all you can think about, until one day, when the brief warm spell happens, then you realize that there is a brighter day coming.  It's not here yet, but it will be soon. 

Not that kind of all saints day.

This is what a funeral is for.  It's not to make you feel more sad, it's not to forget about the person who just passed away, it's not for any of that.  It's that brief chinook in the middle of winter, it's the moment when, just for a second, the snow melts, and you can see the grass underneath.  It's the moment when you were sure that winter was going to last forever, and then all of a sudden, you could see the sky, a hint of green, the roads were safer and clearer and nicer.  Maybe just for one day, there was the promise of spring.  Winter was sure to set in again, but you knew it wasn't going to last forever.

That's what funerals, and all saint's day, are all about.  Not that our loved ones are standing right there beside us, or have risen from the dead on that day, but these are the days in which, for just a second, we can see the life beneath the death, the promise beneath the grief, the love beneath the sadness.  These are the days when we have the promise, the guarantee, that even though things seem more like forever than a Canadian winter, they're not. 

16“In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me.”


17Some of his disciples said to one another, “What does he mean by saying, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me,’ 

and ‘Because I am going to the Father’?”

 18They kept asking, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’? 

We don’t understand what he is saying.”

19Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, 

so he said to them, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said,

‘In a little while you will see me no more, 

and then after a little while you will see me’? 

20I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices.

 You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. 

21A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her 

time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets 

the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.

 22So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I

 will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one 

will take away your joy. 23In that day you will no longer ask

 me anything. I tell you the truth, my Father will give you 

whatever you ask in my name. 24Until now you have not asked

 for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.

                                                   John 16:16-24.

And what is the little while?  Ah yes.  That is the mystery.  It certainly doesn't seem like a little while, but neither do the months between November and May.  But it is a little while.  And once in a while, we get a glimpse of spring, and the promise that winter isn't forever.

PJ

Reformation

Remember Blind Date, that show starring Roger Lodge?

Me too.  I loved that show.  Something about watching totally hapless folks who have essentially nothing in common crash and burn in their feeble attempts at a relationship.  Like most good reality TV, all it does is make you feel better about your own life.  Anyhow, if you're unfamiliar with the concept of a blind date, allow Therapist Joe to explain it to you:

A blind date is when you go out on a date with someone, without knowing anything about them, including what they look like, their interests, whatever, in the hopes that things will totally spark between you.

That's a blind date.  And with most folks (oooooh, I'd say almost the vast majority of folks), they end up blind dating churches.  And you know how blind dates work, don't you.  Of course you do. You've heard about them from complete strangers. The way blind dates work is that a friend of yours offers to set you up with the cute girl that he and his son know from work.  And you head out to the park / nightclub / library and meet up with her, and only after you've spent some time together do you actually find out what she's all about.

Now, one of the points that I made on Sunday was that being in a church is an awful lot like being in a relationship.  No, scratch that.  It is being in a relationship.  A relationship with a congregation is a lot like a relationship with a human being:  First of all, for a lot of us Lutherans, it was a sort of arranged marriage, where our parents brought us to church, and we stuck around.  But for a lot of other folks, churches get introduced to people in the same way that blind dates do, by saying "Hey, I know this Anglican down the street, and she's super-cute.  Maybe you should go check her out sometime."

And so it goes.  Like with the majority of relationships we enter into, church relationships are frequently not based on too much substance.  It's about looks, it's about music, it's about movies, it's about going bowling, hanging out in the park, whatever.  And then you find out what a person's really all about waaaay later.  Growing up, in high school (grades 10-12, saskies), the most important things someone could have going on were how they looked, and what kind of movies and mu sic they liked.  Aside from that, not much else mattered.  And we all thought, growing up, that if you found someone who shared your same values, your same beliefs, your same views on the future, all that, but they didn't like the same movies as you, then the whole thing was shot right out of the gate.

Well, in a desperate attempt to get things together, this last Sunday was our observation of Reformation day, the time in the church in which Martin Luther broke off from the church on earth as it had been at the time, and reformed it.


Seriously, these two guys are not the same guy.  How are you still getting them confused?













The idea was that the church was corrupt.  Big deal, I hear some of you saying, the church has always been corrupt!  Okay okay, but hold on a moment here.  The corruption of the church was at a spectacular high, partially due to the lack of belief in what the Christian church actually taught.  Yes, saith everyone, the church offered up a different reality from what was contained in the Bible, and in the words of Jesus Christ.  As it seemingly always has, right?

But the difference was, back then, nobody could possibly keep the church to account.  Because nobody else knew what was in the Bible.  The relationship that you had with your church was completely stuck permanently at the phase of admiring her beauty, without ever getting to know what she was all about.  If you do yourself a favor and take a stroll through the greater and more elaborate churches in Europe (less so here in Canada), you'll find a whole bunch of very pretty things.  You will find glorious, gorgeous sanctuaries, bedecked in tapestries, carvings, sculptures, paintings, and the like.  A lot of art, including the stained glass windows.  All of this stuff was put in place for a couple of reasons:  First of all, to look pretty, which it does.  Second of all, to tell the story of the Bible.  You should all know how picture books work by now, that children who are pre-literate can sit down with a book full of pictures, recognize the pictures, tell you what they are, and all that, without having to know a single word.  It was like that in churches too, in that a great many folks who were attending churches during those great middle ages period were functionally illiterate.  And even if they were literate, they sure weren't going around chatting to each other in conversational latin.  And with latin being the language of the church, folks who went to church on a Sunday morning didn't understand a word of it.  And so they got to go and look at the pretty pictures.

These days, if you go to our church, you don't have a whole tonne of pretty pictures to look at. Some, yes, but not too terribly many.  

Nice, hey?

We have a couple of banners, some paraments, and those wooden carvings to either side of the cross.  That's it.  Why is that?  Because unlike pre-reformation stuff, you can listen to what's going on.  You can read the Bible for yourself, you can read the catechism for yourself, you can be up on absolutely everything, and perhaps most of all, we can get ourselves outside of the Gandhi view of Christians.  

If you get distracted by the bricks, or the paraments, or your smartphone during the service, it's not because you don't understand me, it's because I've gotten boring or irrelevant.  Both of those things, I'm sure have happened.  But the idea is that whatever you get from me, you don't have to just believe that I'm preaching the word of God.  You don't have to be here because of the prettiness of the place or whatever.  As far as blind  dates go, every week gives us a new opportunity to explore our relationship, both with the church and with God, based not so much on how everything looks, but more on the deeper content of character, of meaning.

Back in high school, deeper content seemed like the least important thing in the universe.  

Can you tell which one is pastor Jim?

When we were all young and silly, everything but values and culture and such and such seemed pretty important. Movies, tv, music, likes, dislikes, all of that stuff was super important.  But after the reformation, we can take some time to listen to the actual word of God.  Hear what he says, in our own language.  If the pastor of the church is mistaken, we can rebuke him.  If the church has fallen away from the teachings of Jesus, we can bring it back, because we can know what it says in the first place.  If our Christians are unlike our Christ, we can know that they are, because we know Christ and him crucified.  

Oh, and to disappoint Gandhi, Christians are always going to be unlike Christ. If they weren't, then they wouldn't need Christ.  But it's not incumbent on the Christian to be Christ (which is impossible), but to be genuinely honest about why they are not like Christ, and seek forgiveness for that.  So when someone says "you're not much like Jesus," we can say "I know.  Thank God he sent Jesus so that worthless screw-ups like me could have a chance."

PJ.