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August 22, 2010 | August 1, 2010 | July 25, 2010 | July 18, 2010
July 11, 2010 | July 4, 2010 | June 27, 2010 | June 20, 2010
June 6, 2010 | May 30, 2010

Sermon for August 22, 2010

Get a Life!
Rev. Shannon Mang

Shannon's sermon was centred around a Powerpoint presentation, featuring slides from her visit to the community of Iona. The Powerpoint file is located HERE. Additional notes for each slide are located HERE.
If you are having trouble viewing the Powerpoint slideshow, you may visit Open Office to download their free Productivity Suite.

Sermon for August 1, 2010

The cry of God
Rev. Dr. Rod Sykes
Read: Hosea 11:1-11

Listen for God. Listen in, as Hosea, the ancient prophet of the people of God, lets us hear the unfolding in words of the majestic grief which is the love of God. In the course of this amazing poem Hosea conducts us into the very soul of God.

Listen for God as Hosea first presents the voice of God. It is a cry, a heart-wrenching cry, words such as a parent would utter for a child who has turned away.

Every parent who has had a child run away, literally, knows the shock of that breach. Every parent who has suffered alienation from a son or daughter, or even contemplated the possibility of such a breach, must find these words are devastatingly true: "The more I called them, the more they went from me."

Hosea's insight here is astonishing. He speaks of God the Creator of all things, God who forms and rescues the Hebrew people, God the great high power; yet his poem opens a window into the very heart of that God, and we see there the anguished spirit of a parent who has lost a child.

Israel has betrayed God, who begins to remember what is now lost through that betrayal. In words befitting any loving mother God pours out this tender sentiment:

And that rings true. So often children do not recognize, let alone appreciate, let alone say thank you for the myriad blessings with which their parents embrace them daily.

But Israel is not just indifferent. The people of the covenant have turned away from God with a cold calculation that they may do better worshiping the gods of their neighbours. They have chosen to worship the fertility gods of the Canaanites, honouring Baal and not Yahweh. From God's perspective it is as if they had died.

Listen for God. The pathos here is intense. God experiences the infidelity of Israel as a vacuum, an emptiness which she now fills with tears as she remembers the former times when her people were like faithful children,

I bent down to them and fed them. These are verses of lament and mourning. They are very much like what we do at funeral services nowadays when we show a video tribute that reminds us of our good times with the deceased. Here in Hosea's poem we have God's slide-show remembrance of Israel's childhood.

Then, in a change of heart that feels psychologically fully authentic, God's anger flashes forth.

Listen for God. His anger is a perfectly natural response to betrayal. It is not unseemly. It is not inappropriate. It does not represent psychological immaturity. Rather the fire of God's anger pays tribute to the beauty of the past relationship with Israel that has now been betrayed. God had embarked on a great project of building Israel into a holy people; the enterprise seems now to be in ruins. And so we hear in these words the wrath of God. It is holy wrath, for its indignation is morally justified. The intention forms in God's heart to undo the history between God and his beloved Israel. He vows to return them to Egypt. Since they were nothing as slaves in Egypt he intends to make them nothing once again. If they have made themselves dead to him he will let them become dead to themselves as Egyptian armies carry them back into slavery.

But how can God let that happen? How can God let them go? To do so would be like a parent standing still while his or her child wandered onto traffic

The anguish in God's words is born of the absolute contradiction between the impulses that here vie for control of the divine heart.

Listen for God. It will not do to imagine here two kinds of God, a vengeful God versus a caring God. No, both impulses are part of God's love. On the one hand, the holy wrath comes from God's perception of what these Israelites could still become, glorious possibilities from which they are turning away. On the other hand, God's compassion comes from his elemental relationship to them as Creator. The whole point of the human project was to create beings with whom God could be in relationship. For him to let them go, to abandon them to death, would be to undo his own self.

So God remembers her own self. She remembers who she is. She remembers that she is God, not a mortal creature. Which is to say: she and she alone can hold together both wrath and compassion within the same heart. She decides: she will act from compassion:

Listen for God, as Hosea adds a brilliant touch. God does not wrestle silently with the contradiction between wrath and compassion. The deliberation within the soul of God does not result in a cool, reasoned decision to hold on to dangling Israel's hand, a decision passed down to the angels like a corporate memo about a policy change. God roars. God roars like a distant lion, shaking the world with an expression of the divine struggle. God trumpets a new calling to the people of God. It shouts: here I am. Here is love. Come back to it.

Listen for God. Hosea concludes his vision with an image of the people of God indeed listening, listening and returning:

Listen for God. Beyond the horizon of Hosea's vision, God's leonine roar echoes forever. We hear it in the words of a man from Nazareth pinned to a cross, who cries out, "Father, forgive..." In those words we hear once again the fearsome contest that goes on within God's love, the struggle of destruction versus creation, vengeance versus forgiveness.

And in the rising of that man from Nazareth, in the words of the witnesses who exclaimed to the world, "He has risen", we hear God's decision of forgiveness being pronounced. "He has risen"—the words are a shout of triumph. And they are an invitation to us all to return home, trembling as birds perhaps, in answer to the roaring love of God.

As you approach this communion table this morning, think of it as our returning home. Listen in the words and the music and the silence that surrounds this holy meal for the inviting cry of the Holy One who calls your heart home. Listen for God.

Sermon for July 25, 2010

Someone's prayin'
Rev. Dr. Rod Sykes
Read: Luke 11:1-13

At countless campfire gatherings the evening ends with someone suggesting the singing of Kum Ba Yah. Everyone seems to know it: Its third verse is:

80 or 90 years ago this spiritual was discovered being sung by African-Americans along the coast of South Carolina and Georgia . It was sung in Gullah, the creole pidgin dialect spoken by the former slaves living on the Sea Islands. The Gullah phrase "Kum ba yah" means "Come by here". So this campfire spiritual is a prayer asking God to "Come by here".

In the song's four verses it names four acts of speech that are essential to being human: laughing, crying, singing – and praying. "Someone's prayin', Lord, Lord, Kum ba yah!". At all times someone, somewhere, is praying.

So it was entirely appropriate for Jesus' followers to ask him to teach them how to pray. Presumably they meant pray better than they already knew how to do. There was a lot of praying going on in their world. There were any number of gods on offer in the ancient Mediterranean world, any number of religious traditions. There was Ahura-Mazda (the Persian high God), Baal and his sister/consort Astarte (the old Canaanite deities), Chemosh (god of the Moabites), Dagan (the Philistine sea deity) – and that only gets us through the first four letters of the alphabet. There were 69 further gods and goddesses just in the Middle East, to say nothing of the pantheon of Roman deities and the mystery cults like that of Mithras whom many of the Roman legionnaires worshiped. And in our Bible text the disciples mention that John the Baptist had instructed his followers in some specific prayer practices. Consequently there were any number of religious practices available to Jesus' contemporaries, any number of rituals that could be learned and liturgies that could be memorized. The ancient near East was saturated with religiosity. So his disciples needed to know: what, Jesus, do you have to add to all that? Or rather, with what do you say we should replace all that?

Jesus' response? Approach God with three succinct requests.

The Canadian (indeed, United Church) theologian Douglas John Hall writes:

Hall points out how radically simple and how pragmatically tangible is this prayer of Jesus. It is the cry of a creature of God who asks God to give the essentials of what the creature needs.

As Hall also points out, the asking or requesting is so straightforward and blunt that it is almost rude. It is almost a command issued to God. "Give us our bread!" No "please and thank you". No wheedling, sycophantic, unctuous attempts to butter God up with words of praise. The first verses of the prayer might seem that way but they are not. They are not ascriptions of praise. They aren't saying, "Oh, Lord, you're so wonderful!" No. The prayer is not an act in which we hallow God's name. Instead, it is another request. It is asking God to hallow his own name – to make his name holy, to demonstrate who he is, to reveal himself for what he is, and to do this in the most obvious way – by bringing his kingdom fully into view, that the Reign of God might be seen in its fullness "on earth as in heaven". That is why Eugene Peterson's translation of the first part of the prayer is correct: "Reveal who you are."

So the prayer of Jesus is simple and direct, to the point of being demanding. That takes a lot of chutzpah! How can anyone have the temerity to make such bold requests of God? Only those who understand that they are creatures of a loving God. Only those who trust completely in the benevolence and power of God. Only those who turn to God as a loving parent. This not a prayer through which people are brought to God; it is a prayer for those who are already embedded in God, or who are trying to be.

And so it is understandable that it has become the prayer of the church through the ages. We use it as the common prayer of the worldwide people of the Way of Jesus. That has brought a risk, the risk that it can become a ritual, a set form of words to say to God. Jesus never intended it to become a routine, almost like a magical formula. Rather, he gave it as a model, a pattern to guide our particular hearts' cry to God for our particular needs.

How shall we pray, they asked Jesus. His reply was this: as trusting children of God, tell God your needs.

But not just any needs, let alone any wants that we happen to have. The focus of our prayer with God needs to be on the essentials. That's what the three requests in this prayer of Jesus were: three essential needs of the peasants in the communities from which Jesus came.

Here then is Jesus' model for prayer: with trust in God, name your essential needs. How shall embrace this model of prayer for ourselves? We do not want to let it remain as merely a memorized ritualistic formula. See it instead as a template. Use it as a guide for, let's say, a daily time of reflection and connection with God. Think of prayer time as a discipline and practice for the reforming of our desires.

The reforming of our desires. There are so many claims upon our time. So many allegiances pulling at our heartstrings. So many products and services, good in themselves, held up to us as objects to pursue, as blessings to desire. So many potential paths to follow in family and work. So many things to desire. But then prayer on the model of Jesus' prayer invites us to sort through our priorities, to refocus our desire:

That last point is perhaps most essential of all. Our prayer is our acknowledgment of what we really need from God. It is more than just deciding what we really should do with our gifts and abilities and resources. It is our recognition that we can do nothing without God. It is our confession that everything we might do with our gifts and abilities and resources rests upon God's grace and God's loving power. In the words of the spiritual, prayer is to say to God: Kum ba yah.

Come by here.

So may we pray. Amen.

Sermon for July 18, 2010

Hot and bothered
Rev. Dr. Rod Sykes
Read: Luke 10:38-42

For several years now our sermons here at St. Andrew's have been focusing upon the Way of Jesus. We have been exploring the attitudes we should have and the actions we should do if we are to be followers of Way of Jesus. The goal is to be shaped more and more as disciples of Jesus and to move more and more into the kingdom of God. It is a spiritual journey.

In the central chapters of his Gospel (starting at 9:51) from which we are reading these recent weeks, Luke explores that motif of a journey. He portrays Jesus as being literally on the way to Jerusalem with his followers. But each stop on the way becomes a moment for Jesus to teach his followers the norms of faith by which they should live. And so Luke begins the little episode from which we read today with the journey motif once again: "38Now as they [Jesus and his disciples] went on their way, he entered a certain village". A new place, a new issue in our journey of faith.

And what is that issue? Is the story saying that what Martha does in the kitchen is less important than what Mary does as she listens at the feet of Jesus? For centuries that has been the standard interpretation. But that is not the point of the dialogue here between Jesus and Martha. We can see this if we contemplate the social context of this story. Let us shine the spotlight on two details in this episode, two features of the social life of a Mediterranean peasant village.

"38... A woman named Martha welcomed [Jesus] into her home." Presumably Jesus does not know them already, or not very well. And so Martha's welcome would be a formal performance, the fulfillment of a social duty, and a very strong obligation at that. The social code of Jesus' day required that you offer hospitality to any guest who requested food and shelter in your home. And the expectations would have been even greater in the case of an especially-honoured guest like Jesus, whose reputation as a great spirit-person preceded him. For such an important personage, Martha would be expected to pull out all the stops. Her busy scurrying about would have seemed to everybody to be normal and proper. In fact she would have brought shame on her family if she had not tried to provide the most elaborate feast she could afford.

Now Luke elsewhere in his gospel applauds people who provide service to Jesus. [4:39; 8:3; 10:40.] It would be inconsistent for Luke to portray Jesus as scolding Martha simply for offering hospitality. That should make us wonder what Jesus meant when he said, 41..."Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; 42 there is need of only one thing." What could the "many things" be?

One way to read it is this. Martha was rushing about trying to provide an elaborate meal with many courses and many dishes. Jesus reminded her that his needs were very simple. One dish would do. Something like: "Martha, just make up a pot of spaghetti." It was a teaching moment: followers of the Way need to develop a lifestyle of simplicity.

The second little detail to highlight is the intimacy of Mary's sitting at Jesus feet. Norms of behaviour between men and women in Jesus' day forbade as shameful any close physical proximity such as Mary and Jesus established. It was quite respectable that his male followers sat at Jesus' feet, for that was the stereotypical posture of the disciple who comes close to the master to be taught. But that a woman invaded that circle would have brought great shame upon the household. The neighbours must have been scandalized.

What then do these little details in the story tell us about being a follower of the Way? A number of things:

  1. Jesus is crucial. What he has to tell us is worth risking any shame or public embarrassment. Mary is honoured in this story not because she listened rather than worked, but because she was willing to risk public humiliation in order to take this wonderful chance to be taught and shaped by the great Spirit-person from Nazareth.
  2. The Way of Jesus is a path of counter-cultural simplicity. It is counter-cultural because it ignores social expectations. Mary violated the social norms that sideline women. Jesus invited Martha likewise to free herself from social expectations of "the good host", and embrace the simple life.
  3. Gender is irrelevant to discipleship. Luke includes Mary within the circle of disciples at Jesus' feet. This suggests that in the churches for which Luke was writing, women may well have been leaders. They played a much larger role among the followers of the Way during the early decades than they were subsequently allowed to do as the Church became established and socially powerful. (It is so sad that the full equality of women within the worldwide Church is not yet fully present. This past week the Vatican decreed that it is "one of the greatest crimes under church law" for any Catholic bishop to ordain a woman to the priesthood. The appropriate response to this error is to point to this story of Mary among the disciples.)
  4. Beware distractions. This is a point that needs elaboration because it is a particular challenge in today's culture for anyone who commits to follow the Way of Jesus.

Martha allowed the prevailing social norms to make her "worried and distracted". "Distracted" is a word that should ring loud for us. We live in an age of distraction. To underline this aspect of contemporary life, consider these two TV commercials. They are from the same car company but more than 50 years apart. I invite you to compare the speed of sensory inputs between the two ads. Count with me the number of times the visual image changes, that is, the number of edits...

Now by my count, the Ford commercial from the mid-1950s had about 10 cuts over the course of one minute and 40 seconds. The Ford commercial from this year was significantly different in two respects. It was much shorter – 30 seconds long. And in that short time, we were bombarded with 20 different images.

This acceleration of sensory inputs is happening everywhere in the ocean of information in which we daily swim. It may seem to be exhilarating. But in fact it also reduces our capacity to reflect, to make judgments, to ask critical questions, and to see the big picture. Technology author and consultant Linda Stone has written that the disease of the Internet age is "continuous partial attention". [ http://lindastone.net/qa/continuous-partial-attention/] She says:

We see with only one eye, as it were, hear with only one ear, think with only half our brain – or less. This makes it increasingly difficult to give the good news of Jesus the attention it deserves. Consequently, if we are going to be faithful followers of the Way we will need to be counter-cultural. We must resist the blandishments of a hyped up cyberspace that purports to be the life-space within which emerging generations will inevitably live. We need to discover and develop ways – in this "wired world" – to give our spirits space in which to breathe. Our children and grandchildren sense this intuitively. As Linda Stone points out, on a hopeful note, most young people find phone calls intrusive and distracting. They prefer to use text messaging, which makes them better able to manage their time, or rather, to manage their attention.

There is much wisdom in our Christian heritage upon which we can draw in order to resist distraction. The ancient traditions of the monasteries have something to teach today's emerging generations about how to develop and maintain a spiritually focused life. As the world-wide Church goes through the re-formation that seems to be happening, and as followers of Jesus have to re-think the discipline of their lives, this will be one of the challenges: how do we welcome the Spirit of Jesus into our "household", into the hurly-burly of our daily lives, and give him the attention he deserves? How do we stay open to the one thing that is needful – Jesus' word of grace and love in God?

Sermon for July 11, 2010

God-wannabees
Rev. Dr. Rod Sykes
Read: Psalm 82

On its surface this Bible passage presents a puzzle, a challenge even, to people of faith. As Psalm 82 begins it envisions God standing up in the midst of "the divine council". But who are these council-members? Translators of the Bible with a conservative bent interpret them to be "judges", men within the people of Israel to whom God has given authority. But the New Revised Standard Version translators are more daring. They give a literal reading here. "1In the midst of the gods he [Yahweh] holds judgment." This is a frank acknowledgement of what mainline Bible scholars have long recognized. There are elements of polytheism – belief in many gods -- throughout the Hebrew scriptures. The image found in this Psalm of a Council of heavenly beings who accompany God is also found in the book of Job: "1:6 One day the heavenly beings came to present themselves before the LORD". People of faith usually resolve this embarrassment by adopting a theory of progressive revelation. AS the Hebrew people progressed through the centuries their religious reflection became more and more clearly monotheist.

And so today we might tend to dismiss this Psalm as primitive and irrelevant. That would be unfortunate. Psalm 82 lays upon us a claim: that we must pursue divine justice. We should attend to and reflect upon the command of Yahweh God to these gods – however we understand them. They have a responsibility to promote justice, and are failing in it:

That is the blunt message. God chastises the gods. They have the power to affect the lives of the weak, the parentless, the lowly, and the destitute; then God expects them to care for such marginalized people, protecting the vulnerable members of the people of the Covenant from exploitation "at the hand of the wicked". They have failed to do so. Not only have they failed to secure justice for the oppressed but indeed they have favoured the exploiters.

My simple message this morning is that we in the Western world in the 21st Century need to understand ourselves to be those small-g "gods". We have the power – the technological, organizational, social power – to affect the lives of the weak, the parentless, the lowly, and the destitute. We have such extensive power that to the ancients we would seem to have godlike status. If time travel were possible and we could bring the writer of this Psalm forward to our day he or she would undoubtedly describe us that way. The Psalmist would look at our skyscrapers, taller than any mountain he or she had ever seen, and be drop-jawed in awe. He or she would track the passage overhead of a passenger jet taking off from the airport, bigger than any bird he or she had ever seen, and would likely exclaim: "You are as gods!!"

With false modesty we might "tut-tut" such accolades. But in truth we take a lot of pride in the technical accomplishments of our civilization. Over the last 400 years North Atlantic society has girdled the globe with the machinery of the industrial economy. The emerging postindustrial world economy of Microsoft and Nike is now a colossus that stands astride the whole planet. We have come to expect our understanding and control of nature to be deepened and expanded. In effect we are seeking to achieve the status that once was attributed to the gods. As a society, we are god-wannabees.

But then the writer of the Psalm might begin to notice the destitute people digging for scraps of food in the dumpsters in the alleys between the skyscrapers. He or she might learn that air travel is a privilege affordable for only a very small proportion of the planet's population. In that case the writer could justifiably ask us, "Where in the midst of your astonishing affluence and power is the justice of God to be seen?" The Psalm writer could appropriately repeat his or her poem to us, particularly verse 3, which expresses a central expectation that God has of us: "3 Give justice to the weak and the orphan..."

What is this justice God requires? Notice the verbs that express it: "maintain the right of the lowly", "rescue the weak", and "deliver them". If our lives were to reflect the justice of God we would be devoted to the liberation of people in bondage, the rescue of those in chronic peril, the promotion of basic rights for all human beings. God's justice happens when human beings who live together follow the divine game plan. God's justice happens when we treat each other with fairness, generosity, compassion – that is, love. Divine justice is, in other words, right relationship – right relationship between us and each other and between us and God.

If the justice which God desires is the ideal of right relationship, then we can identify very quickly three areas of life that are always in need of reform: three expressions of divine justice.

First, we can speak about emotional and spiritual justice. That is to say, a right relationship should exist between us and God, where our deepest attachment is to what God wants for the world. Secondly there is economic justice. That is to say, a right relationship should exist between neighbours, between classes of people, and between nations, with regard to the provision of the basic material things of life for all of God's beloved children. And thirdly there is what we might call ecological justice, a right relationship between human society and the ecosystem of this planet. The details of what constitutes rightness in the relationship in each of these three types will vary, but the core idea remains in all of them: justice is achieved when our human reality comes back into line with what God understands to be the good life for us.

[Philosophical aside: this understanding of justice is substantive, not merely formal. That is to say, divine justice is more than fairness, more than simply an equal offer of the good life to all human beings; it is a substantive picture of what this good life is to which all human beings should aspire, and to which all human beings deserve access simply by virtue of being beloved creatures of God.]

The first two expressions of divine justice should be familiar to you. Right relationship with God in the first sense of emotional and spiritual justice is well represented in our 2000 years of Christian tradition. The second form, economic justice, has been raised up as a divine imperative across the global church in the last number of decades. But now the third form of God's justice, ecological justice, is coming more and more into view as an requirement for us as people of faith.

For a local and pertinent example during this Calgary Stampede week, take note of the commitment to conservation that is part of the tradition of ranchers in southern Alberta. Googling the relevant terms led me to a website of the OH Ranches in Longview and other southern districts. [ http://www.ohranch.com/ranchbackgrounder.html ] The OH Ranches have obtained a provincial "heritage rangeland" designation. This program aims to develop an economically viable ranching operation that also preserves environmental sustainability. So as we celebrate the pioneer spirit during Stampede week let us celebrate the farsightedness of efforts, like the heritage rangeland program, to live responsibly and in right relationship with God's good earth.

Indeed let us celebrate the efforts within our own congregation to do so. Let us give thanks for the work of the group that has formed under the name of "the Gleaners". For several years now the Gleaners have looked for ways for us to re-use, recycle, and repair. They have promoted our use of washable dishes instead of disposable cups, for instance. That is a small change, to be sure, but one which expresses growing awareness of our responsibility as stewards of God's creation. Each project however little points towards greater concern for ecological justice. Let us then encourage the Gleaners, and work eagerly with them, and take home the lessons they can teach us.

May it be so.

Sermon for July 4, 2010

Outriders
Rev. Dr. Rod Sykes
Read: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Peel back the layers of 2000 years of church history. Work down through the immense conceptual framework of Christian theology that has tried to understand Jesus' relationship to God and with humankind. Strip away all the social norms that have accumulated around church congregations and their relationship to the larger society. Clear all that away and we are left with the shining vision at the heart of Jesus' life and work. This is Jesus' vision of the Reign of God. This is what he lived for and died for -- the kingdom of God, or Dominion or Sovereignty or world-embracing authority. However you want to translate it, it was Jesus' core teaching about what the world is like when God is in charge and the Caesars and Kings and Presidents are not. It was the core teaching of Jesus. It was also the pivot point around which revolved his prayer and his healing. It was in pursuit of the Sovereignty of God that he developed the spiritual practices of the community which he created. This core teaching and lifestyle is summed up in a single phrase which occurs in today's reading from Luke's Gospel. When you get close to Jesus then "the kingdom of God has come near".

You and I are invited to enter the kingdom. When we come to the table of Jesus today we are invited once again to live within that Reign of God. But that is not our only spiritual work. The reign of God is so powerful, so necessary for human flourishing, that we need to share it. We must offer it in turn, as it has been offered to us, to anyone who needs it.

We are a little hesitant to do that. It would seem to be hard enough to work out what it means to live within God's sovereignty. It is a whole further task and quite daunting to go forth as witnesses to God's Reign to a needy and hungry world. But that's part of what it means for us to be communities of the Way of Jesus. Jesus never kept his joy to himself. He never constrained his love for the spirit within a closed circle. He shared these at every opportunity. So likewise must we.

And so Luke's gospel presents us this story in which Jesus commissions his followers to share the grand adventure.

We are almost at Stampede week here in Calgary. This gives us a useful image that comes from local history. Picture a cattle drive. A cattle drive is a cooperative effort. The trail boss cannot round up all the herd himself but needs the help of outriders. So think of our responsibility to spread the Way of Jesus this way. We are called to function as outriders in the Jesus movement.

Jesus set his face towards Jerusalem. He carried his movement from its start in the Galilean peasantry into the very heart of the Roman Imperial system and the power structure of the collaborators in the Jerusalem Temple. As he moved towards this goal, he sent his disciples out as, as it were, "outriders" to draw in those he couldn't personally touch. That's still part of our role as followers of his Way.

We're not used to thinking of ourselves this way. Most of us have grown up within the church as an established institution. Christianity as we have experienced it did not really have to go out of itself very much. But the new realities around us require us now to find ways to take our good news about God's love as shown in the Way of Jesus to those would respond to this blessing. That requires from us new skills. After all, if a group of friends from the city go to a dude ranch and sign-up to become outriders for a cattle drive, they too would need to learn new skills. That's exactly the setup in these scenes from the 1991 movie, City Slickers.

Just as Mitch and Phil and Ed have to learn new skills in riding and roping so also must we learn some new techniques and new attitudes. The instructions that Luke's Jesus gives the ones he sends out point towards these new attitudes and skills. I will mention three that remain pertinent to us.

"4 Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals". This is a requirement that we should travel light. It's good to have physical structures and political processes and organizations that can support ministries. But how much do we really need? We can bring the joy of the Way of Jesus to people without much by way of buildings or technologies, as long as we bring them our one true gift -- which is the joy in our own hearts that comes from living with God.

"10 But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 11 'Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you.'" This may sound like a something of a hard saying. But it is in context a mature way of handling rejection. The disciple is not to get angry at those who do not welcome the good news. Instead, he or she should symbolically distance themselves. Shaking the dust of that place from off their feet was a way metaphorically to declare that the rejection of Jesus' message would not stick to them, would not linger with them or make them resentful. In this way Jesus reminds them not to take rejection personally. There is wisdom in that for us, when we want to tell others about the Way of Jesus. If our delight in it runs into a stone wall, that's not our problem. We have to remember our boundaries. We are only vehicles of God's Spirit.

On the other hand, we need to remember to be utterly sensitive to the needs of others, to their receptivity, to the ways in which they may be different from us and therefore will require us to be very careful about how we communicate. Jesus said to those sent out, "8 Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is before you." Table fellowship was utterly central to Jesus ministry. And to be willing to share in the diet of those who offer hospitality, however strange or different it might be, is symbolic of your readiness to approach them within their own cultural framework.

There is a thread that runs through all these pieces of advice. A follower of the Way of Jesus who sets forth as an outrider of the kingdom must remain humble. Here she must always remember: "It's not about me; it's about God, and about God and this person to whom I'm witnessing." We are not centers of spiritual power. We are merely conduits for the Spirit.

It can help us to maintain that humility if we regularly come to this table. For what happens here is not that we feed ourselves, but we are fed. In this simple bread we remember that we need no feast to sustain us for our work. In this cup of thanksgiving and blessing, we remember that it's not really about us, about our ability to "win souls for Christ". It is really all about joy, the joy of life with God.

May it be so.

Sermon for June 27, 2010

Seize the day
Rev. Dr. Rod Sykes
Read: Luke 9:51-62

Some of us think of ourselves as pragmatists or realists. Others would be quite happy to wear the label of the idealist. We tend to have deeply held convictions about these different ways of standing in the world. Pragmatists will tend to scorn the idealist as a "head in the clouds" daydreamer. Idealists will tend to denigrate the realist as narrow-minded and dull. The fact that this distinction between pragmatism and idealism is pretty crude doesn't seem to stop us from using it.

As the gospel writers portray Jesus to us he embraces both orientations. He was an idealist; while that would be an understatement. He was utterly absorbed by God's calling upon him. He was entirely focused on the Reign of God. He advocated and acted out the discipline and the beauty which human life can display when it flows in the direction that God intended in our creation. He was, in a phrase, God-intoxicated. [That phrase comes from the Sufi mystics within Islam. They cherished people who pursued such a vision . The Sufis spoke of them as being "Mast-Allah" (pronounced ‘must Allah') – "intoxicated with God". As John Dominic Crossan is fond of saying, Jesus was a perfect exemplar of a God-intoxicated person.]

And yet he could be utterly pragmatic in pursuit of the ideal of the kingdom of God. Jesus knew our human nature to its core. He understood the dynamics of relationships in family and village and among nations. So he was more than a "visionary". He could be very "hands-on". In a number of the sayings attributed to him in the Gospels he gives quite practical advice about what the Reign of God looks like and how to pursue it. That is what we have in our text today from the gospel of Luke. We see Jesus as the pragmatic idealist in three ways.

First, Jesus could see the right moment to act. In the first verse of our text Luke writes, "51 When the days drew near for him to be taken up". "Taken up" here alludes to Jesus' being taken up on his cross – and ultimately taken up in his ascension into God. Jesus could see that he was at a turning point. As Luke's Gospel lays out the chronology, Jesus has just been acknowledged by his disciples as the Messiah, the Anointed One of God. And they have had experience of him on a mountaintop in which he seemed to be to then transfigured by the glory of God. Those peak experiences imply that the ministry of Jesus in Galilee had now come to its climax. Now it was time for Jesus to take his campaign for the kingdom of God up against the powers of the age centered in Jerusalem. The time was ripe. The moment was now. 51 "The days drew near" and so Jesus "set his face to go to Jerusalem." Thus he was no daydreamer. He kept his ear to the wind, read the signs, saw the tide rising. Then he made his move.

Secondly, he was under no illusion that his message would be immediately and widely accepted. 57 "Someone said to him, "I will follow you wherever you go. But Jesus responded that 58 "the Son of Man" – in Luke's Gospel a phrase Jesus applies to himself – "has nowhere to lay his head." That implies pretty clearly that he knew he would be rejected in many places, as indeed the Samaritans in today's passage reject it him. Still he kept at it for the sake of those places that would accept him. He was not aiming for popularity. He was aiming for transformation, transformation of individuals and of society. In this way he showed the wisdom of understanding what his goal was and what it was not.

Thirdly, he kept his followers focused on the right priorities. One of his potential followers responded to Jesus' invitation to follow him by saying, 59 "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." That was the call of duty, the requirement of familial obligation under the Torah. But Jesus advised him to let someone else fulfill that duty, because he had a more important and more pressing duty – the duty to the kingdom of God. Jesus could see in that person the capacity to be a witness to the kingdom. He must be true to that gift, and pursue that calling as a higher priority.

Another potential follower wanted to delay responding to Jesus' call in order to say farewell to his family. Now this was the call of something stronger than duty. It was the requirement of love, arising out of the bond of affection and respect among brothers and sisters or parents and children. But even that, important as it is, should not deflect any follower of Jesus from responding with urgency to the need of the wider world to encounter God's Reign. And Jesus expressed that importance in a very pragmatic agricultural metaphor: if you turn your head around while plowing, your furrow goes out of line.

In sum: Jesus the pragmatic idealist recognized the moment. He kept a clear focus that his task was transformation and not popularity. He worked through his priorities and helped others stay focused on what really counted. In all these ways he acted pragmatically to advance God's Kingdom.

He challenges us to practical action in the same way. I like how Eugene Peterson paraphrases the last verse of our reading.

Seize the day. Seize the moment to act for God's Reign.

Such moments come every day. They come quickly and disappear. They come in the midst of all our allegiances and duties. They arrive in the midst of the welter of our priorities. Be pragmatic enough to grab them before the moment passes.

Here's a simple example. In an encounter with one of your friends something has gone wrong and you have ended up with hurt on both sides. You may not even know really why it happened. Then you find yourself at a dinner together standing next to each other in line at the buffet. The moment presents itself. Will you speak pleasantly and politely, even in a friendly manner to suggest that there's no issue, even though you know there is. In other words will you let the moment lapse? Or will you say something that opens up your conversation with your friend to a deeper level, taking the risk of rejection and further anger, taking that risk because you are seeking honesty and forgiveness?

That is a Reign-of-God moment. It is a kingdom moment, because God's kingdom is a place of forgiveness, honesty and forgiveness, open communication and forgiveness. And at that moment you can act for the kingdom – or fail to do so. Seize the moment. Seize the day. Seize the chance to say yes to what Jesus is calling your heart to do. For God's kingdom arrives on Earth through a million small, practical actions just like that.

Sermon for June 20, 2010

Mad Pig Disease
Rev. Dr. Rod Sykes
Read: Luke 8:26-39

The one essential thing which the first followers of the Way of Jesus insisted on saying to their neighbours was this: "Jesus is Lord". This did not make them popular. Proclaiming that "Jesus is Lord" would bring disbelief, or derision, or angry rejection, or (at certain periods during the first two centuries CE) arrest and execution. Such reactions are unlikely today. If we were to say, "Jesus is Lord" with anything like the conviction and urgency of the first Christians we would probably be met with a patronizing smirk or a rolling of the eyes. But it still is a core conviction of our faith tradition. When I say that we are called to follow the Way of Jesus the implication is that he is "Lord" for us. If we are sincere in our desire to follow his Way then we must seek more and more to understand and embrace what his Lordship means for us.

The passage from Luke's Gospel which the Lectionary sets for us this week takes us into the meaning of the Lordship of Jesus in a number of ways. Luke never here writes the actual phrase, "Jesus is Lord" – because it was dangerous to do so. Nonetheless that is the central affirmation of the story at several levels.

We have here a story of an exorcism. Set aside any qualms you may have about whether it happened just in the way reported here, or any doubts about whether such mysterious healings ever actually happen. Marcus Borg, our favourite New Testament scholar, believes there is enough evidence to affirm that Jesus indeed had a gift for liberating people from their illnesses, especially since Jesus and his contemporaries regarded every illness as a spiritual crisis. You were ill because you were suffering from an evil spirit. But, as Borg always points out, to wonder whether the stories of Jesus' healings are fictional rather than historically true is to miss their point. Their truth is metaphorical, not factual. The point of this story of the Gerasene demoniac, its metaphorical impact, is that when Jesus is present among the people they are liberated from every bondage and every wound.

The specific bondage in which the man among the tombs was enmeshed was some form of what we would call emotional illness or a brain-chemistry disorder. Such illness is as common among us now as it ever was and remains a form of illness that so often is still intractable to the arts of medicine. Furthermore, just as in Jesus' time, this brain-chemistry disease carries a multitude of negative meanings, social stigmata, and ruptures in relationships. Elaine Heath writes that the Gerasene man

From all this horror, the story says, Jesus delivered the Gerasene man. The man's neighbours "15 came to Jesus, and saw the demoniac sitting there, clothed and in his right mind... and they were afraid." [NRSV]

Afraid indeed. They felt suddenly confronted with a blunt enactment of divine power. Within their world-view it could only be God who has the power to do such a healing. Only God has command over the spirits. The story implies, then, that "Jesus is Lord" in the sense that in some way Jesus is God.

Here is a second level of meaning through which the story affirms the Lordship of Jesus. Consider the ways in which the Gerasene man is a complete outcast. The internal disintegration of his personality drives him out of the community; who could long abide daily life with a person with such symptoms? He tears off his clothes; no one can look upon him without shaming themselves. He is violent; no community can tolerate that kind of unpredictable physical threat. But he is most vividly an outsider to Jesus' hearers because he is a Gerasene. Luke is very careful to locate this story "in the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee". The first readers of this story would have implicitly understood that Jesus has gone across alien territory. He has moved beyond the limits of the Jewish homeland and out beyond the limits of Jewish community and faith which they assume are the limits of God's providence and care. Because he thus brings God's grace and power to those "beyond the pale", Jesus is the movement of God into the lives of everyone who has need regardless of the barriers and boundaries and lines of demarcation through which we order the world. The story implies, then, that "Jesus is Lord", in the sense that he is a source of spiritual authority potentially for every human being.

Thirdly, the story has an unspoken but very clear political implication. Upon encountering the Gerasene man,

That is Eugene Peterson's paraphrase. "Mob" conveys well the sense of the unruly inner impulses and contradictory voices that haunted the man. But unfortunately it loses sight of the impact of the name the man gives himself in the original Greek of this story:

The basic organizational structure in the Roman army, which was occupying Judea and Galilee and fighting the insurrection of Jewish zealots throughout the first century, was the Legion. From the Jewish perspective, that foreign Gentile invading military force was indeed "demonic".

Furthermore, the story imposes on that Legion of demons a fate that would have warmed Jewish hearts. Cast out of the man and into a herd of pigs – ritually unclean animals, remember – the demons are carried down to drown in the sea. Ancient peoples believed that demons could not survive in water. They also believed that pigs could not swim, an erroneous belief as this picture demonstrates, but common enough in Luke's readers that the drowning of possessed pigs in the Sea of Galilee would have been seen as the sure-fire way to be rid of them.

And further again, it may not be too fanciful to suggest that the Gospel writers had their eye on the Roman occupation of the Jewish capital Jerusalem. Luke was writing after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 CE. As William Harwood writes in Mythology's Last Gods, Jerusalem had been occupied by the Roman Tenth Legion [X Fretensis], whose emblem was a wild boar or pig. [Notice also that in the NRSV translation the herd is enumerated -- two thousand pigs, which would have been the size of that occupying Legion.]

Taken altogether these elements in Luke's telling of the story represent a near-treasonous critique of the Roman imperial power. When the Reign of God that Jesus initiated comes to fullness the ungodly forces of empire, represented by the Roman Tenth Legion , will be driven back into the sea. In this subtle but deliberate political sense, then, Luke implies that Jesus is Lord – meaning that the Roman Caesar is not.

We have now immersed ourselves in the thought-world of the story from Luke's Gospel. We have seen three ways in which the story holds up for us the Lordship of Jesus. Our task – and it is one which I leave to you to do for yourself – is to ponder the continuing relevance for you and me of that claim that Jesus is Lord.

Because Jesus is Lord the Caesars of our age are not. Can we discern how following the Way of Jesus sets us on a different path from the destiny that the powers of our age would impose? Can we see how we are called in our private and public life not to follow the herd?

Because Jesus is Lord he has spiritual authority for any human being, not just those who are the insiders. Luke was saying, metaphorically, that you don't have to be Jewish to be Christian. Can we understand in similar terms that a person doesn't have to be "churchy" to be a follower of the Way.

Because Jesus is Lord for us he is "God" for us. As we follow his Way we must spend our life trying to understand fully what that means. Let us say this much: Jesus is for us the window into the shining reality which is God. Jesus is for us the door through which God illuminates our life. Jesus is Lord.

Sermon for June 6, 2010

"No purse, no bag, no sandals"
Rev. Dr. Rod Sykes' meditation for
the 85th Anniversary of the
United Church of Canada
Read: John 17:6, 17-23, Luke 10:1-12

One of the impulses that led to the creation of the United Church of Canada in 1925 was entirely pragmatic. Across Canada, but particularly across the prairie provinces, Union churches were springing up. The settlement of the Canadian west was in full swing. But it made no sense to duplicate in those new communities the denominational divisions familiar from the European Protestant world. The divisions between Lutherans and Mennonites and Methodists and Presbyterians – the list goes on and on – weakened the spiritual life of those who were struggling to build a new society in the west. The pragmatic and creative solution was to create Union churches. The model they demonstrated of unity despite diversity spurred efforts to create a nationwide united church for Canada.

For many decades after its formation the United Church of Canada thought of itself as a movement more than just another denomination – "a united and uniting church". This self-perception lies behind the motto we chose for ourselves, a scripture text that was obviously relevant, the verses in John's Gospel which portray Jesus praying for his followers that "they may all be one". That text was the centrepiece of the inaugural worship service of our Church, which is why we read it again on this Anniversary of that service, 85 years later– to the day.

To gather the scattered many into a unifying "one". That was the task back then. It presented not just pragmatic but profoundly spiritual challenges. Cradle Methodist and born Presbyterians and families of Congregationalists had to let go of some of their idiosyncrasies. They had to let go of traditions of both church life and theological conviction they were used to thinking of as essential. They had to discern instead an essential agreement and a common identity beneath the differences that had theretofore been part of their distinct identities.

There was a paradox at work. The most urgent projects which had animated the partnering denominations could not be pursued unless they surrendered their denominational differences. The paradox was that they had to let go of what had been life-giving and sustaining in order to receive the new form in which God's Spirit was seeking to bless them. Gradually, they did so. Slowly, a new ethos emerged in the new "united and uniting church". Over time, the most faithful way of preserving their separate heritages turned out to be transformation into a new tradition.

This so often has happened in the Jesus movement. In order to carry forward the best of what they have been, followers of the Way of Jesus have to let go of what they have been. That same paradox stands before us now. As we are propelled into the 21st Century – how quickly it overtakes us – the agenda for the United Church of Canada may be different than in 1925 but the paradox is the same. We need to let go of what gives life in order to receive new and greater life.

In 1925 the agenda was focused on the prospect of growth, of an expansion through which we hoped to accompany – and shape – our young nation's emergence as a great power in what was then called "Canada's century". When you think about it, though, to grow in social power and influence should not really be the goal of Christians. At best numerical growth is but a by-product of other goals closer to the Gospel, such as helping people become God-intoxicated as Jesus was. Jesus was not into "church growth"; he was into Spirit-connection.

In 2010 our denomination's agenda focuses on survival. Like all the other formerly-mainline denominations in Western society, we are shrinking in members and resources. But let us stop fretting about survival. For Western Christianity is not dying. The Jesus movement is taking a new direction in the culture of the North Atlantic or Euro-American or Western nations. The Spirit is provoking new expressions of "church", new forms in which people together follow the Way of Jesus, transformations and sometimes recoveries of ancient traditions, methods that better fit the cultural capacities of Generations X and Y and the "post-Millennials". The identifying label that has emerged to cover this phenomenon is in fact that very word "emerged". The Emergent Church is a multiplicity of different kinds of community. Some meet online. Some gather in storefronts and empty warehouses. They are incredibly varied. But they all seek to get past the divisions and oppositions that have plagued Christianity's history.

We in the United Church feel the tug of those currents. Five years ago our then-Moderator Peter Short recognized the hope presented by the Emerging Church movement, and convened what was labeled as the Arnprior Assembly of our United Church. The Assembly aimed to re-focus our agenda away from anxieties about survival and onto trust in the Spirit's power to make something hope-filled emerge among us. A Bible passage that guided the Arnprior Assembly is the text we read today from Luke's Gospel. Note particularly the instructions of Jesus as he sends out his followers to spread his good news:

No purse, no bag, no sandals. That is to say, when you walk the Way of Jesus, travel light. We are still challenged to travel light, and it is a challenge because we accumulate so much stuff, stuff that gets in the way sometimes of keeping our channels open to God.

But it is possible for us. We can travel light because God provides what we really need, no more, no less. We symbolize this in the ritual meal that we celebrate as a way of marking our togetherness in the Spirit of Jesus. It is simple bread that we share. All we really need. That's why bannock, the basic bread of our forebears, the stuff of life for explorers and pioneers across the West, is the loaf we break today. It is all we really need, no more, no less.

So I bid you: come eat of this bread today. Eat of it as a signal that we can let go of what is not essential. Partake of it as a sign that we can live together in the unity of what is essential. Come and be fed by the Spirit of Christ.

May it be so.

Sermon for May 30, 2010

Hope happens
Rev. Dr. Rod Sykes
Read: Romans 5:1-5

Jamie's marriage.
Jamie has finally had enough of her husband's outbursts of physical violence towards her. In the three years of their marriage the abuse has been becoming more frequent, the intervals of regret and self-recrimination on his part less convincing. He now refuses to attempt any further marriage counseling. She knows that she continues to love him in the sense of seeking his well-being, but he seems to have moved out of reach. Fortunately they do not have children. Still the decision to end the relationship is wrenching. She doesn't know if she has the emotional stamina to carry through. But she remembers that her parents, particularly her father, has always told that "their door will always be open to her". She understands what this means. They love her intensely and accept her unconditionally. So she approaches them. They help her with the business of breaking up her home and returning to live temporarily with them. They give advice and support that shows care for both her and her estranged husband. They help her deal with the sleepless nights and fear-filled days. They don't turn away from her feelings of shame and failure. Three months later her husband tells her he has entered an anger-management program at a day-treatment psychiatric clinic, and asks if they might, perhaps, sometime down the road be reconciled.

Suffering.
The process Jamie is going through has three phases. I will start with the middle phase, which is the suffering that this marriage crisis visits upon her, and her husband, and her parents. We need to be quite clear-eyed about how painful this process is. If we were Jamie's friend we would need to be careful not to suggest she look for a silver lining. If we were to say, even with the best intentions, "Hey, cheer up; what doesn't kill you makes you stronger", she would be entirely justified in accusing us of being superficial and dismissive of the depth of her suffering.

Hope.
The third phase of what Jamie is going through is the outcome. It is not yet decided, is it? There is a glimmer of hope. Her husband's apparent willingness seriously to reform himself is indeed the first sighting of a new possibility in this situation. Again, we need to be clear-eyed. We must not expect a Pollyanna quick-fix as the assured outcome. But we do know what is at stake here, at the broadest horizon. Jamie, her husband, her parents, her friends, are struggling through the typical quagmire of family relationships. But in the background, beyond their individual needs and dreams, there is a wider issue at stake. Will what they do contribute to or detract from the ideal of loving human community?

Unconditional love.
And the first phase of the process? Well, that started long before this marriage crisis. It started with Jamie's birth and upbringing. Her parents' marriage and the family they nurtured have been part of that same great project of increasing the love in the world. Her parents tried to surround her with unconditional acceptance, with unshakable love. And that unconditional love is what she falls back upon. That unshakable readiness to stand by her and to stand for her well-being is what carries her through the heartbreak. It is perhaps the greatest gift any parent can give any child. It is too rare in our world.

A three-phase process.
So note the pattern. A foundation of unconditional love carries someone through a time of emotional distress, carries them enough that they may hope for the possibility of a broadening love. To repeat: a foundation of unconditional love – the first phase – carries us through testing and difficulty – the second phase – and eventuates in the third phase of the spreading and building of love in the world. I want to call this three-phase process "God's Grace Program".

Paul's experience of God's Grace Program
God's Grace Program was joyfully proclaimed by Paul the Apostle. In our Bible reading today he was writing advice to a community of the followers of the Way of Jesus gathered at Rome. Paul believed with all his heart that God's Grace Program had seen him through all the trials and difficulties of his own ministry. He writes to assure the Roman Christians that they could count on it as well. (I owe this insight to Donna Betts, visiting our staff meeting this week in her role of "repertoire expert" for the Band. She noticed that this passage from the Letter to the Romans expresses the threefold process that we see in Jamie's situation.)

Paul looks back over the middle phase, remembering the sometimes life-and-death struggles he has gone through. In retrospect he sees the hidden blessings that may be present as we struggle against the barriers and difficulties that come when we try to live out the gospel: " 3 We ... have joy with our troubles, because we know that these troubles produce patience. 4 And patience produces character."

Living out the victory of love
But he actually understands himself to be living in the third phase of God's Grace Program. He lives each day in the knowledge that he is living out the victory of love. Consequently, those who commit themselves to follow the Way of Jesus can take heart. God's great cause of refurbishing the world with love will succeed. Paul writes: "4... Character produces hope. 5 And this hope will never disappoint us, because God has poured out his love to fill our hearts."

Why is Paul totally sure that what we ultimately hope for shall be achieved? Why does he believe that God's project of love will bear fruit around us and will "fill our hearts"? Because he has experienced the first phase of the process. Gods Grace Program started before the particular sufferings Paul endured in this ministry. It started prior to any struggles the Roman Christians face. It is what we call "the Christ event". He writes, "1 We have been made right with God by our faith...through our Lord Jesus Christ". What God has done through the living and teaching and dying and rising of Jesus of Nazareth expresses the unconditional love of God for every human being, anytime, anyplace. This unconditional and unshakable love of God has been there in the background and underneath all along. Paul has been able to rely upon it in the face of every challenge. It is what any followers of the Way of Jesus can rely upon when they face difficulties. Indeed, the threefold pattern is at work in the lives of Jamie and her parents, carrying them as they work through this dreadful time, even if they do not recognize it at work. The foundation of unconditional love which her parents knew how to express carries them through their time of emotional distress, carries them enough that they may hope for the possibility of a broadening love. God's Grace Program has been running the whole time.

God's Grace Program for us at St. Andrews
The threefold pattern is running for us, too. Here at St. Andrew's, as we go through our present process of trying to discern God's calling to us, God's Grace Program is at work.

We are in the middle phase. We experience anxiety about losing aspects of church life that are precious to us. We feel confusion about what the realistic options for our future really are. We are tempted to despair, to throw up our hands and say "Pack it in". We may feel too tired to attempt any very ambitious transformation. We may see glimmers of a transformed future and doors opening to possibility but wonder how we get from here to there.

It is a trying, testing, difficult time. I share it with you. When I contemplate each of the realistic options open to us, I can see that they carry risks of real loss.

The risk of turning inward
For instance, the whole process of transition to some new model of being church carries a risk we could turn inward and forget the gospel we are called to live out. St. Andrew's has a wonderful tradition of charitable care for neighbours. This church also has an openness, I think, to recognize the claims of economic justice which the Way of Jesus lays upon us. That means we have to keep remembering the purpose of God we are called to serve. This is what we may hope for: to continue to participate in God's great work of rebuilding the world in love.

The focus of our future
So we are in the middle phase, just like Jamie is, just like Paul the Apostle was. We are in the in-between time in God's process of grace. We yearn for the third phase. We get only little glimpses of it, but they are clear glimpses. Any future we have in God is a future focused on rebuilding the world in love. And I've been trying to articulate that focus for you over the last 10 years in an expression of Christian faith that is called "following the Way of Jesus."

No matter how you vote today, I know that if we are trying to follow the Way of Jesus, then the unconditional love of God for us will carry us through. I know that if we are trying to follow the Way of Jesus, then God's Grace Program is going to unfold around and through us. I know that if we are trying to follow the Way of Jesus, then in the words of Paul, "God is pouring out his love to fill our hearts". We just have to live in that love.

May it be so.