Peace, ANZAC day ... and a bit of Thomas

Peace be with you.

Jesus stood among them –

Doubters,

Deny-ers,

Run-away-ers,

Watchers.

Those with

Grief,

Fear,

Loss,

Pain.

Peace be with you.

Then again

Peace be with you

And

I am sending you

To…

Forgive

To be peace-givers

Peace-keepers

Peace-makers

To…

Seek peace,

Find it.

Give peace,

Receive it.

Jesus stands among us

Doubters,

Deniers

Run-away-ers

Watchers.

Those who live Anzac day,

(“Lest we forget”)

And those who do not want to remember.

Those with

Grief

Fear

Pain

Loss.

Peace be with you.

And we are sent.

Look others in the eye.

“Peace be with you.”

To …

Forgive

And forgive

And forgive

And

see the scars … of the world

Touch them with love

Find faith

And speak faith

And peace

In God’s breathing,

In The Spirit

Peace be with you.

Just showing up - and Resurrection

Mary.

He called her by name

– and she knew the voice, the friend who had spoken.

It wasn’t just that he knew her name

– it was that he knew her.

From grief

to utter confusion to tenderness.

From being alone

to being known, called, remembered. 

Mary Magdalene showed up.

A woman whom, we are told, Jesus had freed from 7 demons.

And she expressed her thanks

by showing up again, and again.

Mary knew the agony of grief.

No doubt she knew about the betrayal

the denial

the running away.

She showed up in the hardest parts of the story;

She was there at the foot of the cross with Jesus’ mother.

She was there when they placed his body in the cave

She was there when they rolled the stone in front of it.

Mary knew about violence and pain and grief and loneliness.

Whatever her demons had been, this was real too.

Friday, we too stood at this cross

as we placed sprigs of lavender and rosemary

in prayer for others.

Some came with tears, and others in hope

or in despair or desperation or a quiet stillness.

To follow Jesus is to stand at the cross,

In the midst of evil and suffering.

To be present to it.

To weep for ourselves and for others.

For mothers murdered in front of their children in our own city

For children stabbed by their fathers in places where we holiday

For families ripped apart by war

… and then ripped apart again as they seek refuge among us.

To weep for and stand with people who need to be freed from whatever demons or addictions or illness may hold them.

That’s Mary’s discipleship.

Because that’s where God shows up.

And then, like Mary, to show up

the next day

and the next.

Maybe not sure why …

except just to be present, to pray.

Mary showed up at the tomb,

expecting that this violence,

this tragedy

would continue.

It was after the Sabbath

when she sees the empty cave.

Someone has taken His body …

More grief, more agony, more tears.

She still runs back to Peter;

‘They have taken him, and we don’t know…’

There is a hurry to get to the tomb …

minds and hearts racing.

One looks … maybe afraid to go in.

Peter goes straight inside.

Seeing only the linen wrappings lying there

they walk home.

The hurry is over.

Mary shows up, again.

Back to the tomb. Again.

Maybe not sure why.

But that is Mary’s discipleship.

And then ...

"Mary"

Her name on his breath.

Spoken in a way that only he could.

With all the knowing

and all the tenderness

and all the care of the one who knew

all about her demons …

and knew her free of them.

Three have seen the empty tomb …

One stops for longer

to be named,

to be called,

to be known.

We also have inklings, glimpses,

things that take our breath away.

Moments when resurrection says, “a new thing is happening.”

hours where we know we believe more than anything else

that

Christ is risen.

And that, like Mary we can turn up.

And in those glimpses, those inklings,

our name is on his resurrected breath

inviting us to belong

inviting us to participate.

Here

Now

with his name on our breath.

And when we, like Mary Magdalene show up in the place of pain

and violence

and evil

and suffering,

We also stand in the place of …resurrection.

And with his name on our breath

We say

“death is not the last word.
Violence is not the last word.
Hate is not the last word.
Money is not the last word.
Intimidation is not the last word.
Political power is not the last word.
Condemnation is not the last word.
Betrayal and failure are not the last word.
No: each of them are left like rags in a tomb,

And from that tomb,
Arises Christ,
Alive.” *

Christ is risen.

He is risen. 

Indeed!

++++++++++++++++++++++ 

My thanks to Arnie Weiringa, Jennie Gordon (http://greaterfarthantongueorpen.wordpress.com/),

Nadia Bolz-Weber (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2012/07/sermon-about-mary-magdalen-the-masacre-in-our-town-and-defiant-alleluias/),

*Brian McLaren (http://brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/a-prayer-for-pastors-on-easter.html)

Who is this? (Palm Sunday and a Baptism)

Several years ago I joined my sister for a church service in Japan.  It was December and Winter – a white Christmas was to follow. I was in a country where I didn’t understand the language, let alone the street signs. In church that Sunday, I had no idea what was being said or sung or prayed.  But when a young woman came forward, knelt at the front and was baptised – I knew exactly what was happening.  Matthew 28.19 was being lived out and this young person was being welcomed into my family. Our family.

Angels and people hold their breath in awe as another person is baptised and welcomed into this huge, complex family: Baptised into the family of Jesus Christ, the church of God that expresses its life, witness and service in every corner of the world, ever since that first Christmas, that first Palm Sunday, Good Friday, that first Resurrection day and first Pentecost.

So today, Sarah is both this tiny dot in a very large ocean of people, AND the centre of attention of God’s people. 

Baby Sarah.  Who is she?

Obviously a daughter, Grand-daughter and niece and cousin.

Cutie, chatterbox, wriggler and giggler.

Her parents already know that she is the very best gift they have ever received … and the most frustrating human being in the universe.  They already know that she will grow to be a young woman with her own opinions and perspectives (Exclamation mark!!!).  They now know that a whole congregation has committed itself, with them, to raise her in Christian faith with them as parents.  And they know that they have done so on behalf of millions of others around the world.

Today, all around the world, Christians will celebrate Palm Sunday.  

They will do so in hundreds of different languages;
They will be out in the streets of their towns in South America in processions waving palm branches,
Hunkered down in cold cathedrals as spring starts to make its presence felt in Northern Europe,
Sweating in mud-brick buildings in Kenya,
Or speaking in quiet voices in lounges or cellars in Turkey

-       all of them joining in a huge chorus of voices singing “Hosanna”. 

This is the family that Sarah has been baptised into.

These people will also join us as we step tentatively into this week, the days leading up to Good Friday and Easter Sunday, to listen again to the stories;

of Mary and perfume and anointing;

of washing feet and love;

of bread broken and wine poured;

of Judas and betrayal;

of Peter and denial;

of a garden and light and darkness and whips and spears and crosses and nails and … that final, chilling cry, “It is finished”.

They too will hold their breath … or go about their daily tasks with that nagging hope that the story isn’t over.

And then.

And then on Sunday, many will rise early and, still half asleep, slope again into cathedrals and mud huts and on beaches and lake-fronts and lounges to hear the astounding story of an empty tomb and resurrection and Mary and Peter … and “yes it is true”. Life has triumphed over death; hate can never defeat love.  They will join their voices with millions of others around the world and over centuries to shout “He is Risen; Christ is risen indeed.”

This is the beginning of Holy Week – the Holiest of weeks – the week that this Christian faith is all about – the one central story that binds us together around the world and through many centuries.

“This week is the most beautiful and the most important of the Church’s year. It is the drama of our salvation and our life. It is also a week of profound renewal. We renew our baptismal life because we see again the battle that God in Christ wins against all the powers of darkness and destruction in our world and in our lives. We know that our baptism makes us participators in his victory and so we have the courage to follow him on his journey and to contemplate the mystery of his love for us.” prayasyougo

This is the story that Sarah was baptised into.

All around the world in churches, some will be here for the first time, hearing the story fresh and new.  Others will hear it for the hundredth time.  And wherever the story is retold and relived there are tears, and anger and a wondering. "Would I be Peter or Judas or Thomas or Mary?"

Some who gather will mumble and doubt and puzzle, and wonder if they will be back next year.  But they said that last year too, and something … something in the story brought them back ... a whispering and a nagging that somehow nothing else has come as close to making any sense of the mess that they see around them.  Their doubt is carried by love and community and someone else’s faith and curiosity and a flicker of … maybe, just maybe …

And in all the stories is this one remarkable man.  Jesus goes to Jerusalem knowing that this will probably mean his death.  And the city is abuzz. This royal, political, religious city and its people ask the question, “Who is this?”  And the crowd, who come from the country and other towns and nations, the crowds reply, as if with one voice, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

In this week, of all weeks, we are reminded that God’s way is not our way. We expect to see celebrity and superhero. But the way of this One is not about force or coersion or power.  In Jesus Christ we see God in a different way; a way of humility and powerlessness – and yet of immense strength and love. It is what someone would later call “the foolishness of the cross”. His is a love so deep and strong and free that it can hold all doubt and fear and hopelessness. He is even prepared to take on death – the ultimate power.  

And then?  Then comes resurrection – not a logical conclusion or predictable outcome – but a mystery, an ultimate victory and God’s greatest act - in Jesus.

Humility, Death, Resurrection

Faith, hope and love.

Who is this?

This is the One into whom Sarah has been baptised;

Joining this family, to live this story, and to follow this Jesus Christ.

Loved and Living (Adelaide and Lazarus)

This time last week, I was sitting in a café in Adelaide watching people, and listening to the city.  Homeless, lovers, families and those who were there because there was obviously no where else for them to be – we observed and listened and participated in the life of the city centre.  It was a gift to us to be able to slow down enough to really see more than the people across the table and the bottom of our coffee cups.  Each one of these people have a name and stories of life and death, of pain and joy.

Our attendance at the UCA’s Mission and Evangelism conference was a deeply personal reminder that the gospel is not a program, an event or a task to do.  It is about living genuine relationships with a wide variety of people. Even evangelism is about what we do and say about this life-giving good news that God whispers into our hearts every day.  It is about living and being loved today.  It is about allowing God’s stories to slip out of our experiences and seep into our conversations – off our lips and through our hands to others.

Wandering through the Art Gallery in Adelaide, I came across a plate, made around 1840 – obviously meant to be mounted on a wall.  It said, “Prepare to meet thy God”.  It represents a theology that says that what happens after death is more important to God than what happens now – and I don’t read that in scripture.  But more than that, it states that I cannot “meet my God” now – that meeting God is something that has to wait until I die.  It states that “I am” cannot be a currently lived reality.

If the gospel is only about what happens after we die, then Lazarus should have stayed dead.  But this tells a very different story for Lazarus, Mary, Martha and the other astounded people looking on; it is a story of Jesus love, Martha and Mary’s faith, and Lazarus’ new living because of this God-moment.

The one you love is ill

Being loved is an amazing experience – the love of a parent, spouse, child, friend.  Sometimes love is experienced in a deeply moving feeling of warmth and acceptance. At other times it is found in conversations with friends that reach deep into your soul – into your life-stories – and give hope and life to experiences of despair and grief.  In our evening Lenten studies this week, we were talking about friends and friendship – that those rare close friends are people who you can call on at 3am – and whom you know that you can call on for anything. They are people with whom there are shared stories, deep trust and unconditional love.

There is a story in John’s gospel that starts with this line, “God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who has faith in him will have eternal life and never really die.”  And John’s gospel emphasises this through each personal encounter with Jesus.

We are told several times in this story that Jesus loved Lazarus.  The sisters send a message to Jesus to say that “the one you love is ill”.  As Jesus wept the crowd say, “see how he loved him”.  Martha and Mary deeply loved their brother, and Jesus obviously loved him too.  This is love that doesn’t turn away when the loved one is sick or dying – it is a love that turns up at these times.

Through the story, Lazarus doesn’t say anything.  Love says it all.  Lazarus is known by name, and called out of the tomb by name.  And Jesus, who seemed to be absent earlier, is now very much present.

If you had been here …

We know the feeling of God being present … or at least not being distant.  We have had moments in our prayers or singing or living where God feels closer than our breathing.  They are moments when we are calmer, or more joyful or more alive.

But then there are these moments when we feel very, very alone.  Sometimes it seems like God is absent – like our prayers hit a ceiling and come crashing down around us.  It feels like darkness is closer than we want … and that God must have abandoned us. 

You thought you were the only one who felt this?  

Mary and Martha did.  The psalmist did.  Many of the old testament prophets did. And preachers, poets and prophets have done through the ages.  One wise man in the 15^th century, St John of the Cross described it as “The dark night of the soul”.  Doesn’t that say it all? The dark night of the soul.

What do we do when it happens?  Martha and Mary both take the opportunity to tell Jesus off!  “If you had been here …” I’m pretty sure it wasn’t in a nice voice either!  The Psalmist very clearly describes to God what he thinks, and reminds God of what he promised.  And that got published for people to read!

This is a faith that is bold enough to tell God what is going on in our hearts – in good times and bad. In the words of Psalm 23, its not all banquets and green fields. Sometimes we need to describe the valley of the shadow of death.  But we do so in faith that God is with us. In some way.

Jesus uses this phrase “I am” on seven different occasions in John’s gospel; I am the bread of life, the light of the world, … and here “the resurrection and the life.” These are statements that intentionally describe a present reality, not something we need to wait for until after death. These are signs that point to Jesus as God’s presence with them.  They are John’s version of the Kingdom of God.  For John, Jesus’ presence NOW is that kingdom.  And that presence is Resurrection and life – and the “I am” says that at least a part of that is available now.  It is a lived reality.  Martha operated under the assumption that real living, real life with God, starts after death.

Death is a reality too. I’ve been privileged to walk alongside people in their final moments or days.  My faith rests on an assurance that whatever is beyond death, God is present.  But it also rests on an assurance that God is present now.

Loved and living

Even in life there are deaths and tombs – places where people are bound and dying.  There is an invitation to us to be part of this story of resurrection. When Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb, the people need to “unbind” him.  There is a responsibility for us as a community to be involved in the lives of people, to be present where there is darkness and addiction, abuse, injustice, hopelessness and grief; and to offer that tender touch of grace and loving and gentle release from these deaths. Resurrection might seem impossible – for people who are called hope-less - but the gospel word is that there is new life and living to be found. Here and now.

“We are called to know people by name, to be in places of despair and pain in order to unleash the awesome power of love, and we are to walk beside each other, hand in hand, with the one who has loved us from the start.” – Rev Jennie Gordon

What if God was one of us?

12 months ago on Friday, we flew from NZ to AU - tired after packing and traveling and not sleeping in our own beds, we arrived - not for a holiday, but to live.  This wasn't a case of finding a motel and heading for the nearest beach or theme-park. We needed to find out about housing, schools, healthcare.  We had no bank accounts, drivers licenses, car, mobile or home phones, or Medicare cards. It was a very different feeling, arriving to stay. 

We were very dependent on the few friends and family we had here. Foreign passports only count for so much.  An electricity account with our name and address often had more currency with government agencies than our own passports.  We had little in the way of status or identity.

We knew a few people, and only a little about the city. We didn't know exactly what work I would be coming to. We arrived with several suitcases, and our hopes and fears in our pockets.

It was certainly an adventure, but there was no plan b, and if it went badly we simply had to ride it out because we had come on one-way tickets.

All at the same time we were scared and excited, happy and fearful, hopeful and terrified.  Much seemed the same as it did back home, but much was (is) also different. The tools and tricks and ways of doing things we had used to survive in NZ didn't always work here. 

And so there were tears, uncertainty, anger, frustration, for days on end … all mixed in with a sense of the generosity of friends and family, the adventure of New Years eve at Yarra Park and the MCG, and a summer of 40 deg days.  At least we (mostly) spoke the same language.

An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, "Get up, take the child and his mother and flee to Egypt and remain there until I tell you; For Herod is about to search for the Child, to destroy him." (Matthew 2.13 - The Bible)

I'm grateful that we weren't being chased by a tyrant, fearing for our lives;

That we had several months leisurely time to pack, and could take most of what we wanted.

That we could say goodbye properly to friends and family - and the rabbit. and that we came to a country where we spoke the same language.

After Christmas day, it would be nice if, after the wise men left, everything continued nice and cosy and comfortably.

But that would not be the world that this God came to save; That would not be the experience of humanity that God came to be part of, in Jesus; The whole reason for Christmas - and this birth - was exactly those broken, angry, and fear-driven ways of living. Whether those of the powerful or the powerless or those in between.  This saviour came for this sin and brokenness; to be with us the midst of it, and to save us for something much, much better.

In this story we are confronted with some stark realities:

·      That around our world today people still run from their governments and leaders in fear.

·      That when God comes to deal with sin and brokenness, we can discover that we prefer our messy and busted lives to handing it over to God.

·      That God's authority and power can be met by the response of the Wise Men - in worship and gift and gentleness and acceptance; or by the reaction of Herod in fear and violence.

The UNHCR mid-year report says that in July this year, there were 11 million refugees around the world, just under a million applying for asylum, of which Australia has just under 2%.

That's 11 million people running for their lives (literally) from oppressive governments or war or famine or natural disasters.

Let's just pause and consider what that means 

·      People continue to behave disgustingly and abusively towards each other; 

·      People continue to be exceedingly generous in welcoming those who flee for their lives; 

·      We in Australia know only a trickle of this river of human suffering.  

This part of the christmas story pokes us with this reminder; Sin and selfishness and human violence are not far from our human experience. I understand that we like to think of ourselves as nice - and basically good. With road-rage and Australians threatening others with knives on public transport, this reality comes as close to us as walking out of our homes.  And if I were really honest, its not all that far from my own heart.  No, I'm not saying we should be scared of each other. Grace and hope are a generous part of every human being.  Palestinian Parents love their children as much as Syrian or Indonesian or Australian. 

But for us in Australia, we struggle to understand what it is that drives families to grab a few valued possessions and leave our homes and run, never knowing if we might ever return; but knowing that if we don't run, we will be killed, our daughters will be raped and we will watch our family home burn to the ground.

The heart of the Christmas story is not for children to dress up in tea-towels and sheets.  It is about God's salvation for this broken world - a world where Jesus himself, with his family, experienced the impact of violence and fear.

This is truly "God with us" - and God is prepared to talk about sin, and salvation … so that God can talk about hope and peace.

We need to hear this part of the Christmas story to remind us that, beyond the Awe and Worship … and the sentimentality … This Child came to a broken world – in which we are part of this brokenness.

We need to hear about Herod in this story, as much as we need the WiseMen.

The WiseMen were open to what this baby might teach them; Herod was fearful of this 'king'.  This baby was a threat to Herod; He was an object of worship and awe for the WiseMen.  

With the WiseMen there is a sense of patience and calm and taking time to wonder and listen and ponder.

With Herod there is impatience, anger and sudden rage.

When God is born among us, some with power will be open to him, and some will be threatened.

When Men (and Women) go to war because they are threatened by others, or withhold food from their enemies, or selfishly store up for themselves instead of sharing generously, innocent people suffer. And it is normally the children that suffer first when adults fight over things.

And every time it happens, Mothers are left weeping inconsolably for their children.

To accept this One Child (GodWithUs) invites us to participate in a different story for this world …Whether it is a call to welcome the stranger in our midst, or to care for the poor, or to love an unloveable or loveless someone who is close to us, or to recognise the violence done to indigenous Australian children in our own history and lifetimes, or even move countries. 

And when God comes among us, we each have comfort or power or concepts that are threatened or challenged. We can follow the example of the wise men and pause and listen to something that is completely different to what we expect - or we can push back like Herod, threatened and angry.

God. With us. One of us. Acting intentionally and decisively … and in the cry of a baby, who has faced some of the worst that broken and angry humans can do to others.

God. With us. One of us. Loved by a mother and father, adored by searching wise men, worshipped by common folk.

If God were one of us, these might be our responses too.