Yellin' like Magellan

I always feel bad when I have to yell at the congregation.

I'll rephrase that.  I always feel bad when I have to preach the law to the congregation.

We Lutherans have this awesome thing going on, which we call 'Law and Gospel.'  It was really popularized by Walther.  Put into its simplest possible terms, if you're comfortable, you should be terrified, and if you're terrified, you should be comforted.  This was the basic building block of the teaching of Jesus when he was here on earth with us.  When he was doing his teaching and preaching, what you've noticed is that he was nice to the sinners, the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the various bad eggs who were around, but he was harsh to the pharisees, the saducees, the chief priests and elders of the people.

And why was that?  The understanding these days seems to be that Jesus is the friend of the plucky underdog, that he is around as some sort of galactic socialist, designed to redistribute wealth and so on.  And the reason that we like this, is because we always view ourselves as the plucky underdogs in our own stories.  We view ourselves as facing the wind, taming whales, all that stuff.  That's how you and I see ourselves.

And because we see ourselves in that light, the modern church heads into some trouble when it comes to preaching law.  When it comes to preaching law, most people want a nice 'fire and brimstone' sermon, in which I, or a pastor like myself, preach damnation about those who aren't in our church, and probably never will be.  Honestly, I've had a few people come to me and ask for more preaching on the law, ask for a little more hellfire, ask for a little more promise of damnation, which at first caught me by surprise, until I figured out what was going on.

If I was to preach a sermon on attendance, everyone who heard it would be saying 'yeah, right on!'  As well they might.  Because, by definition, if you're listening to a sermon on attendance, you're at least there to hear it!  And you can get rather smug, and think to yourself 'yes, those other goofballs out there should really go to church more.'  And yes, they probably should.  But why oh why would I bother telling the people who are there that the people who aren't should be?

This last Sunday, I preached the law on a particular hobby horse of mine.  That is, I preached about the reading from Acts regarding cornelius.  This particular passage is a passion of mine, particularly because it is related to the way our churches function in the real world.  And when I say our churches, I mean our Lutheran Church-Canada churches, legit.

The whole deal with Cornelius, in case you didn't know, is the blowing of Christianity open to the world outside.  Even though Christ our Lord had told his disciples that they were to preach his message to the ends of the earth, the disciples didn't think that Jesus actually meant it. The idea that the disciples had is that if people were going to be Christians, then they would have to be Christians like them.  In other words, the disciples kept kosher, they went to the synagogue, they spent time dealing with the temple and everything related to it.  And they kept kosher.  It's a reality so nice I said it twice, but it's important for this conversation.  When the disciples get together, they do so as Jewish Christians.  They're Christians, obviously, but they're Christians as an off-shoot of their Judaism.  And this, this is the beginning of a problem that will plague us from the first century to the present day.  The idea is that in order to be a Christian, you have to be like us first. Who is us?  It's whoever happens to be running the congregation at the time.

For us, in Lutheran Church-Canada, we happen to be overwhelmingly German.  Yes we do.  And we tend to say things like 'Lutheran last names' 'Lutheran pop', all sorts of other stuff that is entwined with German culture.  And this makes it difficult to do any kind of reasonable outreach beyond our immediate community.  Our favourite target is German catholics, but that stopped being a fertile ground about six hundred years ago.  The real fertile ground for outreach is honestly going to be either Canadian atheists, or failing that, people who don't look all that German.

And this is why I preach on the law in this manner.  The big threat facing the Christian church, the big panic, the big problem that we face down all the time is not the homosexuality, it's not the abortion, it's not the gambling, or the drug addiction, it's not murder or rape.

It's that you're a bunch of Pharisees.

That was the problem with the synagogue and the temple back in the New Testament days, and it's the problem in churches today, and don't think that it's a problem only in LC-C churches.  It's a problem with all churches, more pronounced with in churches that have a sort of National background (Anglicans, Lutherans, Dutch Reformed, etc).  Your church has a problem, in that it's not about making you more like God, it's about making other people more like you.  And if you think I'm making this up, I'm not.  This is a problem plaguing churches these days.  The idea from the beginning was that we were made in God's image, and we have taken this in later days to mean that we are supposed to make other people in our image.  When it comes time to discuss food or drink or worship times, or prayers or anything like that, we turn into Pharisees remarkably quickly, saying 'well, if you're going to be a Christian, you're going to have to go to church at 8:30 in the morning, and use p.158 out of the hymnal.'  As though Jesus, when he was walking on God's green earth, was setting up Lutheran churches, placing organs in them, and signing off on the only true hymnal, the blue hymnal.

None of that happened.  We get confused so quickly because we're so silly.  We're silly silly people.  We feel as though we are the barometer of holiness, and everyone else should be judged through our lens.  If we don't drink alcohol because we have a problem with it, we usually think that nobody else should either.  And that gives us the awesome sense of security, it lets u s look at everyone else, and say that they have a long way to go to catch up with us.  Our way is the best way, even though it is just useful for us, and has nothing to do with scripture at all.  But that was never the idea - all things are lawful, says the scripture, but not all things are profitable.  It's up to you, and what is driving a wedge between you and God.  And for most of you, I doubt very much that it's the same things as it is for me.  That's because we're all sinners, but all pulled in different directions.  We each have our own strengths and weaknesses, and that's fine.  But the big danger is when we assume that there is a simple, easy to follow standard for holiness that involves haircuts, not wearing jeans, jello salad, cabbage rolls, and German music.  Because it doesn't, and it never did.

I'm in the business of preaching law sometimes, not often, but sometimes.  And when I preach the law, what should I preach about?  The demon liquor?  The rampant adultery that is constantly happening?  The gambling addictions that tear families apart?  Maybe.  But if I was hungry, I'd talk about food.  Our churches aren't full to the brim with gambling addicts, or alcoholics, or abortion providers, or murderers, but they are full of cold, self-righteous prigs.  And if I'm going to preach the law, what do you think I'm going to preach about?  What did Jesus preach about?  It was, and always has been, about opposing the proud, and giving grace to the humble.

PJ.

The science of the lambs

Aha, sheep.  This was Good Shepherd Sunday, and what better time to be at Good Shepherd Lutheran church, than on Good Shepherd Sunday?  Well, none, really.  But with all the readings being about sheep, it was good for us to get to thinking about what on earth sheep are all about.

The point I made on Sunday (which was a grand one), is that sheep require shepherds.  They need to

have a sort of alpha ram that they will follow around.  They crave leadership, which we do as well.  The funny thing about the global (new) atheism movement is their insistence that they can live a life free of shepherds.  The claim is that you don't need anyone to tell you where to go or what to think. 

The entire movement is structured around the notion of 'freethought,' and members call themselves 'free thinkers' amongst other things.  Now, this isn't to tar all atheists with the same brush, but it does bear thinking about, when it comes time to define your worldview. 

I find it to be quite frankly astonishing how many free thinkers have the same thoughts.  It's strange how many of them come to the same conclusion, and have the same worldview on a lot of things.  It's almost as though they all read and were informed by the same book...

Now, that's not to say that you, as an atheist, have all read these books, and have abandoned your previous thoughts on the world and our place in it because of that.  Not likely.  But in the same way as most Christians haven't read the entire Bible yet have a worldview shaped and informed by it, so too do most atheists have their worldview shaped and informed by a few key texts.  And free thought leads you, as usual, to remarkably restricted thought.

Part of the breakdown with the conversation at this point is usually geared around the notion that someone like myself is tempted to say that 'atheism is just another religion,' which generally gets called a bit of a canard, and that's fine.  But I'm not going to say that today.  What I will say, though, is that free thought gets remarkably dogmatic in its liberty.  It's free, but only in incredibly restricted parameters.  You can think whatever you want, as long as it's within a very limited range of topics, pretty much.  So, it's not a religion per se, but it does speak to our desire to have shepherd who lead us and guide us.  It's a matter of which shepherd you follow.

The notion of the good shepherd is one that comes up in the Christian faith.  And once you understand and realize that you, as a sheep (and I know, you're a radical freethinker, but at least acknowledge your desire to have your worldview informed by people whom you respect), have a need for a shepherd, you can start to work out what kind you want to have. 

All shepherds do the standard 'follow me'.  If they didn't, they'd be sort of bunk shepherds.  But here's the juice.  The difference between a shepherd and a Good Shepherd is the question of do they let it go from there?  Jesus classically says to his disciples when they're out fishing 'follow me' and they do.  They leave everything they have, their boats, their nets, their everything, and follow him. 

And then they desert him . And so does everyone else.  Look at the history of Christ in the Gospels.  His disciples, his followers, go through many various stages of following him with extreme enthusiasm, and then disregarding him with frustration when he makes the outlandish claims that he
does.  But where does Jesus go after that?  He goes right back to them.  He follows them.  The irony of the call of Christ is that after he tells us to follow him, he seems to do nothing but follow us around.  The story is the one of the Good Shepherd, who leaves the 99 and goes off in search of the one who is lost.  And if you haven't understood this story, you haven't understood Christianity.

As I said on Sunday, Christianity is incarnational.  Always has been, always will be, and it's what sets Christianity apart from the majority of other worldviews, etc.  You say it in an almost breathless whisper on Christmas Eve as you turn to the person next to you, and say to them 'Christ the light of the world has come to you.'  The Good Shepherd is notable in his leaving his comfort and coming to you.

Contrast that with the dogmatism that engulfs freethought at present.  This is an older quote, but it still checks out, and was made by Virginia Woolfe on the subject of T.S. Eliot's conversion to Christianity.

"I have had a most shameful and distressing interview with poor dear Tom Eliot, who may be called dead to us all from this day forward.  He has become an Anglo-Catholic, believes in God and immortality and goes to church.  I was really shocked.  A corpse would seem to me more credible than he is. I mean, there’s something obscene in a living person sitting by the fire and believing in God.”











Freethought is pretty much only allowed to go in one direction.  From belief to atheism.  That's freethought.  And if, like TS Eliot, you happen to arrive at the conclusion that there is a loving God in

heaven who cares for us, calls us by name, and cherishes us, then you don't fit in with the free thinking ethos of the society.  Then you are abandoned, like a corpse, essentially.  The freedom of thought in freethought is an illusion, not actually occupying reality.  You are free to think freely as long as you come to a very set series of conclusions.  What does all this mean?  It means that our quest for a shepherd is not just a choice between two voices saying 'follow me.'  It's a journey between two voices, one saying 'follow me,' and the other saying 'let me follow you wherever you go, and be your source and strength.'

PJ.
 

Get your fish on

Many many years ago, back in a time before time, when dinosaurs ruled the earth, I played the part of James (big stretch, right), in my church's adaptation of this particular reading.  Yes, the reading in which Jesus reappeared on the beach, and asked his disciples if they had any fish.  It's a fun story, isn't it?  I know I mentioned this on Sunday, but for the benefit of those of you who weren't there on Sunday, here's the reading and my analysis.

 

 

21 Afterward Jesus appeared again to his disciples, by the Sea of Galilee.^[a] It happened this way: ² Simon Peter, Thomas (also known as Didymus^[b]), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together. ³ “I’m going out to fish,” Simon Peter told them, and they said, “We’ll go with you.” So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

⁴ Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.
⁵ He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?”
“No,” they answered.
⁶ He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.
⁷ Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, “It is the Lord,” he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water. ⁸ The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were not far from shore, about a hundred yards.^{[c] 9} When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.
¹⁰ Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you have just caught.” ¹¹ So Simon Peter climbed back into the boat and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. ¹² Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. ¹³ Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. ¹⁴ This was now the third time Jesus appeared to his disciples after he was raised from the dead.

John 21:1-14

 

As I said on Sunday, it's a nice story.  It's a story of Peter, waking up early in the morning, and going out on a fishing trip with the rest of the like-minded disciples.  No problem there, right?  Well, hold on Charlie, because there is a slight problem with this setup.  Peter, Andrew, James, John, the rest, they're all out there fishing, partially because it's a nice morning to go out on a boat, but partly because they are going back to their former lives as fishermen now that this whole Jesus thing is all wrapped up.  They followed Jesus around for a while, but then he had to go and get himself executed, and then the fun rapidly dries up. 

 

But hold on, because there Jesus is on the shore, and after they've spent an enjoyable morning catching nothing, he tells them from the shore to let down their nets.  And this mirrors pretty much exactly the calling of the first disciples from the Gospel of Luke, in which Jesus tells some rather unsuccessful fishermen to let down their nets after a day of catching nothing.  See a theme there?  You should. 

 

Anyhoo, in Luke's Gospel, they let down their nets, and all of a sudden they are pulling in so many fish that the nets are strained to their breaking point, and the boats begin to sink.  Wow!  Great, right?  Well, only if you're in the business of catching fish.  Which fishermen should be. 

 

Hold on, I'll explain.  You know that they're out there to catch fish, obviously, because why on earth would you be on a fishing boat, with nets, if you didn't want to catch fish?  Why indeed.  As I said on Sunday morning, the thing about boats is that they're not all for the same thing.  They really really aren't.  A paddle boat is not a canoe, and a kayak is not a fishing boat.  Boats are all for different things, and one would assume, naturally, if you're in a fishing boat, with nets and all the trappings, that you're there to go fishing.

 

I mentioned this on Sunday, but the space that we commonly call the sanctuary in the church is also

known as the nave.  What is the nave?  I'm glad you asked, I really am.  The nave is the space in the church where everyone sits, and it's supposed to evoke, for you, the feeling of being in the hold of a boat.  And as I say many many times, nothing in a church is there by accident.  And the layout of the church is no exception.  Have you ever wondered why we have pews and not easy to move, multi-purpose single seat chairs?  Probably because you're in the nave of the church, and as such, you're not supposed to be sitting by yourself.  You're all supposed to be on the same oars, pulling in the same direction.  To what end?  Well, you have the same mission as Peter, who is told by Jesus 'follow me, and I will make you a fisher of men.'

 

The nave of the church isn't just a boat, like a generic boat.  It's a working boat.  It's a fishing boat.  It's a boat equipped with nets and rods and all that stuff.  The church is that boat, and the funny thing is, we don't really feel as though it either is or should be for about 90% of the time.  We feel as though pulling on board fish would be difficult or complicated, or that they'd be a-cluttering the place up a bit if we hauled them on board. 

 

The nave isn't a generic boat, though we may want it to be.  We want it to be all sorts of boats, a paddleboat, a canoe, usually a speedboat filled with supermodels made of champagne flutes, but usually the gist is the same for each and every single intended boat: we want it to be like most boats we would normally go onto, filled with us, and people we like.  People who are just like us.

 

But fishing boats are designed to haul fish on board.  They're going to be messy, smelly, loud, covered in guts, all that.  They're going to be awash with trouble sometimes, and smelling a little salty.  If you are on board the fishing boat, you have to work, you're not just there for a pleasant cruise.  You're there to pull fish on board.

 

You may not like that.  You may get a little bit sulky when you consider that the church may end up filled up to the brim with people whom you don't like, and who are not like you.  And any of us would be a little bit put out if someone other than our sweetheart hopped into the passenger seat of our paddleboat.  But in a fishing boat, you have work to do.  You've got a job before you.  You have work to do.  And do you know what it means when the boat gets so full that it starts to sink?  Do you know what it means when the nets are straining, and when the boats can't haul the nets on anymore?  Do you know what it means for a fishing ship to be struggling under that burden? 

 

 

It means that the fishing boat is successful.  That it's doing the right thing.  It's realizing the purpose for it existing.  When Jesus commanded the disciples to let down their nets for a catch, and they did, they brought on more fish than they could have possibly expected, and more fish probably than they wanted to bring in . But that's the deal.  You and I, as people who work on board these boats, we feel like complaining when we have fish to bring on. We feel like complaining when we have work to do, as any of us would.  Fishing boats, though, are only doing well if they're hauling fish on board.  That's why they exist.  That's partially why the church exists, for us to fulfill the great commission, for us to be part of that legacy of Peter, being fishers of men.  That's why these boats are around. 

 

It's not just that it is a boat, it's what kind of boat it might be.  And the kind of boat it is, is a fishing boat.  A working boat, a boat that you were pulled into as well, lest you forget.  You are part of what makes the boat noisy and smelly and covered with barnacles.  You are part of what makes the boat so full that it sinks, part of what strains the nets to breaking point.  But believe it or not, that's actually a remarkably good thing.  It would be bad for a paddle boat, but it's exactly why fishing boats exist. 

 

PJ.



The first rule of Good Friday is do not talk about Good Friday!

...............

And then there was life.  Oh goodness me.  The real deal about Easter is and always has been life.  It is, to my knowledge, the most life-affirming celebration that there is on the planet.  It is the affirmation of, the celebration of life itself, of promise, of future, of potential, of possibility, of eternal, well, possibility.  Sorry if I'm getting too technical. 

Now, the reason that Easter is such a big deal is that it undercuts the entire understanding that we have about each and every single day that there is.  We have an idea about time as being essentially
linear - each day you wake up, and each night you go to bed, and there's some stuff in the middle, but time only progresses in one direction.  To quote Tyler Durden from Fight Club:

This is your life.  Good to the last drop. 

It doesn't get any better than this.

This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.

 

 

When Fight Club came out, oh WOW was it ever a big deal.  It was a big deal because it said, maybe for the first time out loud, the truth that we all secretly knew about the way the world worked, and about the futility of all of our lives.  Yes, we all lived each and every single day like this, but nobody ever TALKED about it.  And there it was, on the big screen (or in novel form), and you had this stuff confirmed.  The growing, gnawing unease that there was in your life, you were finally getting it writ large for you.  It was a serious issue.  You'd spent your life filling it with Swedish furniture, and khakis, and coffee and routine, but it was all to do with trying to forget that you were dying one minute at a time.  And Tyler Durden rudely reminded you of that.  And with every tooth that fell out, with every punch thrown, it was a desperate attempt to reclaim life.

 

 

But here's the problem.  You can eschew the khakis, the swedish furniture, the coffee, the cancer meetings, all of it, and what are you left with? Beating each other up, anarchy, death, and war.  Just insane, impotent rage, dedicated at overthrowing the government, the banks, the businesses, making soap, all that, anarchy reigning, but not really getting you anywhere.  You're just replacing Khakis with soap, but not getting at the core issue, which is that this is your life, and it's ending on minute at a time. 

 

Now, on the internet, as I usually do, I've been seeing lots of pictures about the pagan origins of Easter.  This is the picture I've been seeing:

 

 

 



Yes, this is the issue

 

 

 

 

 

Easter's pagan origins.  But this too, doesn't really get to the heart of what we're talking about as Christians, not really.  Sex and fertility are good things, don't get me wrong, but it's more replacement.  It's more replacing Swedish furniture and khakis with sex and fertility.  You're dying, your life is running out, so let's make requests to the gods to give us sex and many children and all this.  And when you look at Easter as celebrated by Christians, you may get a little bit suspicious.  Hey wait a minute, we might say, what's the deal with the bunnies and the eggs and all that. 

 

My answer?  Nothing at all.

 

G.K. Chesterton, with whom you might disagree with quite a bit, said something remarkably astute about the various faiths, and I'll included this paganism business here too.  He said that according to the world, the various faiths all say the same thing, but differ in terms of their robes, their rituals, their various trappings and so on. 

 

But the world is wrong on that.  The various faiths are remarkably similar in their rituals, in their trappings, in their robes, all that, but they differ remarkably in what they actually say.  And this is where the Christian faith in their greatest celebration, in their biggest day of the year, differs so vastly from the pagan celebration.  You may have eggs at home (but not at church), you may have bunnies at home (but not at church), but what is the celebration about?

 

It's not about fertility.

 

It's not about sex.

 

It's not about bunnies or eggs, or anything like that.  It's about life.  It's about real life.  Life that undercuts the assumption that you've had for the entirety of it that things only go in one direction.  Life to death.  Intact to broken.  You've thought your entire life that the second law of thermodynamics was in effect, and that things, including the universe, were running down over time.  And that everything is just going to run out and break own over time, and will fall apart.

 

 

Including you.

 

But the Christian celebration of Easter, the real one, takes all that, and breaks it.  It shows you, in the person of Jesus Christ, that this is not the end.  That life is not going in one direction, to destruction and death and that's it.  In the person of Jesus Christ, for the first time, but not for the last, there could be life.  And not just fertility, not generations, not more children on this planet that will eventually die.  Not more khakis, not more Swedish furniture, not more chaos not more fights.  But more life. 

 

Part of the way through Fight Club, Tyler Durden informs his disciples that they have to give up, and they have to realize that they too will die.  Until then, they are nothing.  Sure enough.  But the overall question that we as Christians have, is that once you realize that you too will die, once you realize that you will die, so will your children, your parents, your pets, everyone you ever cared about, and everyone ever, then what?  Where is any confidence at all?

It's in Christ.  It's in the empty tomb.  It's in the promise of life, even in the face of death, even as the world spins to destruction. 

It's in life.

 

 

 

PJ.