Taming The Tongue

Knowing when to speak and when not to is not as straight forward as it might at first seem.  I recall an incident when I was in the last year of high school.  I prepared and presented a report on John Diefenbaker to my history seminar and was ambushed by two students who seemed to resent me for reasons I never understood.  Their parting shot was something to the effect that "All in all, [this] report was not very well prepared".  They were right.  I had left it to the last moment and then skimmed encyclopedia style entries for some important information but necessarily glossed over equally important facts.  Still, the attack smarted and I vowed revenge...silently.

The next week, it was the turn of one of these students to present their report on another of Canada's Prime Ministers.  I was ready.  I had all the source material stacked up on my desk with ominous looking bookmarks jutting in the direction of the enemy, like canon on a battlefield.  That student presented their report and it was pretty typically a high school report.  After they were finished, I was still mentally debating whether to lower the proverbial boom, and had actually decided NOT to do so, since, I reasoned, it did nothing for me and might even earn me even more enmity than I already was facing.  The teacher had watched me throughout the presentation and now asked the class if there were any questions.  I kept silent.  He asked again.  I remained resolute.  He asked a third time looking straight at me and at the pile of resource material on my desk.  I stood firm.  Then he said, "Well, if there aren't any questions...." still looking directly at me, and I caved.  I spoke up and said, "I have one question...." and proceeded to tear apart that student's presentation until there was nothing but confetti left.  I was able to deliver the coupe de grace when the dust settled and said, quite snidely, "All in all,..."

I've always regretted that.  It was mean spirited.  I had the ability to do something noble, though not very satisfying, and I passed it up.  The greater sin was mine because I had the skills to use for good or evil and I chose evil.  I caused unnecessary pain and there is far too much of that in this world as it is.

Yesterday, I created a blog entry that I have since deleted.  It came out of a sense of frustration, anger, pain, and mostly a bruised ego around the assumption on the part of some people that they know my job better than I do.  I had the same choice once again, and once again I allowed the temptation to overcome my better judgement, and my better nature.  Fortunately, since so few read this blog, I don't think I have done as much harm and I have taken the opportunity to recant my rant.  Once again, it is not as satisfying in the short run to be silent as it would be to strike out but the payoff in the long run is that I will feel better about myself and the value of that cannot be discounted.

Last week's sermon was about "price, cost and value" and I simply said that you could not make any judgements based solely on price or cost, or price and cost, because value had to be part of every equation.  Whether you are talking about purchasing a product or service; being part of a relationship with another person; having a faith relationship with God; or being part of a congregation, everything has a price and the cost is always greater than the price but neither is as important as the value of what is being considered.  My good opinion of myself is far more valuable than someone else's poor opinion of me, for instance.  And the cost of silence is a small price to pay for the value received.  Perhaps if more people learned to "tame the tongue" there would fewer people broken and damaged in this world.  All in all, whether this entry is as well-prepared as the one I deleted, I am still a lot prouder of it and that is valuable to me.

Religion. Lite.

The Dalai Lama recently spoke in Toronto on the subject of the essential agreement of all faiths on the core concepts of religious belief. He said that all religions agree on, and have at their core, the belief in the value of love as a guiding principle. They all agree that we have an obligation to do good in the world. They all agree that we must do what we can to alleviate need, deal justly, and seek peace, both politically and spiritually. Anyone who examines the documents that are considered to be holy by the various faiths cannot help but be struck by their congruence with each other. Whether one looks at the Quran, the Bible, the Torah, the Bhagavad Gita, or any other core document, we see the same values espoused and the same expectations of the followers of that faith. It is impossible to ignore the fact that there is a yearning within every human being for values that transcend the painful reality that life can be. As we approach the tenth anniversary of the attack by extremists on the twin towers of New York, the Pentagon, and other targets, we are very mindful that those values are often overshadowed by those who use that yearning as a justification for the worst acts of atrocity conceivable by humanity.

Whether it is the genocide of Rwanda, the Kristallnacht of the Nazis, the ethnic cleansing of the Serbs and Croats, the oppression of the Palestinians, the Crusades, or the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, every faith has had its extremists who sought to establish their interpretation of the Spirit as the “one true faith” and their tribe as superior to all the others. If we were to condemn religions on the basis of their extremist factions, we must certainly condemn all religions. The Bible says, correctly, that “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God”. It is axiomatic that, if we go looking for the worst in people, it will not be hard to find. For, even when the extremism does not give rise to violence, it engenders such oppression, racism and hatred that the violence is still as potent but on a spiritual level.

However, it is just as certain that if you go looking for the good in people, you will find that just as quickly. Mother Teresa, Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Pope John XXIII, Stephen Lewis, Lech Walesa, and the list goes on and on. Consider Izzeldin Abuelaish, (is-el-DIHN a-bu-LAISH) the Palestinian doctor whose wife and children were killed by Israeli tank shells in 2009 but who refused to be embittered by his experience and, instead, wrote the powerful book, “I Shall Not Hate”. I had the opportunity to listen to an address of his last winter in Hamilton and I could not help but be moved by his passionate, positive and life-affirming message. Following him on the dais was a Jewish heart surgeon who spoke of a program called “Save A Child’s Heart” which performs delicate heart surgery on children from some of the poorest countries in the world at the Wolfson Medical Centre in Holon, near Tel Aviv in Israel. No matter where you look in this world, you will see people who are working tirelessly for the good of humanity. Some of them do this because of their religious faith. Some do it from purely humanitarian motives. All of them are making a difference in the world. Every religion has members who would rather just sit back in the comfortable pew and pronounce judgement on the “infidels” and “heathens” who do not share their religious viewpoint, just as every religion has it’s extremists. Those who actually put into practice the values that religions espouse on paper, are the people who are being most faithful to the teachings of Jesus, of Mohammed, of the Jewish Law, of Buddha, or any of the great religious teachers and prophets the world has known.

In my own faith tradition, I read about the conflicts that Jesus had with the religious authorities of his own time, and the condemnation of their attitude of superiority and their smug self-assurance of the favoured place in God’s plan. He told the famous parable of the Good Samaritan to drive home the point that one’s righteousness was not based on doctrine or creed or heritage or ethnicity, but on the willingness of the individual to reach out in love to those in need and to give freely of oneself and one’s gifts for the good of all. I know that I can look into any other sacred writing and see similar calls to not only “talk the talk” but to “walk the walk”. Read the little book of Amos in the Hebrew writings, for instance, and hear the prophet ridicule and satirize the people who thought that their observances and their offerings were the measure of their righteousness.

That is an interesting word. Righteous. It is not, inherently, a religious term. It means to be moral and to do the right thing, whatever it may be. It is not a measure of one’s godliness, nor of one’s state of grace. It is about putting into action those beliefs that encourage people, and empower people, and uplift people. Doing the right thing is rarely easy and often dangerous. A great many people have lost their lives trying to do the right thing. More have lost their wealth. Still more have lost the respect of their peers, friends and family. It is not a pretty or nice or comfortable thing to do. Dr. Jane Philpott, a family physician from Stouffville, Ontario is the founder of an organization that encourages people to give one day’s pay to the Stephen Lewis foundation to fight HIV and A.I.D.S. in Africa. Dr. Philpott began an address to some of the community leaders of Stouffville in this simple way. “Today”, she said, “eight thousand people in Africa will die of A.I.D.S. Tomorrow, eight thousand people will die of A.I.D.S. And the next day, and the next day, and the next day. And it will keep happening until you decide to stop it.” Her message was not pretty or nice or comfortable. It was a slap in the face for some people and a wake-up call for others. People like Dr. Jane, of every religion and none, all around the world, are transforming the planet with their bravery and their dedication and their passion. They do it without judgement and without prejudice. They do not limit themselves to their group, their community, their race, their religion or their ethnicity and that is very important.

The day has long since past when we could afford to indulge ourselves in the foolishness known as “NIMBY” or “not in my back yard” for the world is our back yard and if we want it to bloom and grow and be healthy for us and for everyone, we are going to have to learn what it means to be “righteous”. We are going to have to realize that there is no wall or border or division that can effectively protect us from the world. There is no security tight enough to protect us from the threat of our own conscience. There is no guarantee of peace of mind, unless the spirit is at work in us.

Fortunately, the Spirit is at work in us. It whispers in our ear every day about what we should be doing, what we should care about, and how we should treat our neighbours. It tells us to look for truth and wisdom wherever we can find it, without regard to the creed, colour, orientation, gender, or national origin of the person speaking the truth and sharing the wisdom. As the Spirit works in us, it changes us. It modifies our internal architecture until we are no longer the people we were, but a new creation, able to see the world in all its agony and its glory, and willing to take a stand to make a difference, to tip the balance even by the tiniest amount, in favour of glory. As we change, we become a lens through which others are able to see the world in a new way, as well. Where there is despair, we have the ability to renew hope. Where there is pain, we have the ability to effect healing. Where there is conflict, we have the ability to encourage and initiate harmony and peace. Where there is doubt, we have the ability to share the things of which we are certain.

Dogmas and diatribes do not shed any light. All they can do is overshadow the truth. Wherever there is truth, there is hope. Hope that light will penetrate the darkness and allow us to see the path that leads to a better world. No matter how dim the light that we cast, no matter how small the flame of our candle, no matter how faint the illumination, letting in the light is better than stumbling around in the darkness. Again I turn to my tradition to quote from Jesus, where it says, “let your light shine before all so they may see your good works and give glory to God”. If we are going to be the kind of people I think we are meant to be, then regardless of our individual traditions, it will be important, crucial even, to use this Chinese proverb as the foundation of every righteous action we undertake to make the world a better place. “It is better to light a single candle than to stand and curse the darkness”

Hey! Lazarus! Get out here NOW!

What must it have been like to be Lazarus called from the tomb? What insights would he have into death and dying? What fears could he relieve?

In our modern and scientifically advanced world, we've heard many times about people who died, clinically, and then were returned to life. Most of them describe the same experience. They see a bright light. They are in a place of great beauty and peace. They meet someone whom they know well but who has already died. They are asked a question, and they have to make a choice, and those who are returned to life have chosen to live. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross in her ground-breaking books, beginning with "On Death and Dying" explored this whole phenomenon. Interestingly, test pilots and astronauts who are subjected to high gee forces (1 G, in this case, being equal to the force of gravity on earth) report some very similar perceptions and many scientists now chalk this up to "anoxia" which is oxygen starvation to the brain. This is an unsatisfactory answer for me because the brain is a very complex organ and it is hard to imagine that oxygen starvation would affect the same area of the brain so consistently so that many people would report the same thing. Maybe I just don't want to believe it.

Death is a frightening thing. Not dying, by itself, but what lies beyond the process of dying. I've often said that the basic question for any religion is, "What happens when I die?" Some say you die dead and that's all there is. Some say that you are re-incarnated as something or someone else. Some say that you go to a different plane of existence. That's us. We call that plane of existence heaven but we really don't know much about it. Only that we are in the presence of God and that's a very good thing. So, as the philosopher says, "Everyone want go heaven, but nobody want death". (A great line from a bad movie) The next question is, "How do I get there?" One answer is to obey the rules. Another is to do good. Another is to believe in God. That was Paul's answer. The people who get to heaven are the people who believe in God through Jesus Christ. That's another very unsatisfying answer for me. I struggle with the idea that ONLY those who believe in God through Jesus Christ (and the Jews, God's chosen people) get to go to heaven. I think that a loving God is more generous and compassionate than that. I prefer to believe that God has opened many doors through which people can enter into God's presence. However, I KNOW that believing in Jesus Christ is, at the very least, ONE way.

I find that a very comforting thought, somehow. Not only do I trust God to look after me in this life, but I trust God to look after me in the next life, too. If there is no "next life" I won't be disappointed because I won't know anything. On the other hand, if I put my trust in God about this, I am comforted here and now and don't have to wait for comfort later.

Lazarus would know, I'm sure. Actually, I know, too, because I was dead and am now alive. Not just once or twice but probably six or eight times over the course of my life. And every time Jesus has called me from my well-constructed and air-tight and sound-proof tomb and told me to get up and go, because he's not done with me yet. There have been times when I came forth with dust in my veins and no signs of life, and times when I have come out of the tomb dancing and singing and smiling and laughing. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because of what drove me to the tomb in the first place. Maybe it's because of what happened while I was in there. Or maybe it was because of what he said to call me forth. No, it couldn't be that. He always says the same thing. "I love you".

---

Things Go Better With God

It is my contention that the underlying message of the whole of scripture is "don't worry, be happy". I believe that God wants us to be happy and that everything in the Bible is intended to make this clear to us. I think that I can support this assertion with material from virtually every book in the Bible. The story is told, over and over again, that those who grew unhappy with their lot in life, cut themselves off from God, while those who continued to trust in God were justified in the long run in their faith. Pick a story, any story, from either testament and I will be happy to show how and why this is true. However, it is most especially obvious in the New Testament and in the parables, teachings, and life of Jesus.

There is a school of theological thought that asserts that the reason that religions come into existence in the history of humanity is because people look around and ask, "Why is there so much suffering in the world?". Buddha started his journey toward enlightenment by seeing that suffering affected everyone's life. His answer was that this life is simply a testing ground and if you want to understand what life is about, you have to embrace suffering as the basic uniting factor of all of humanity, and then rise above it by detaching from it. The Jews saw suffering as the failure to be faithful to God. Good people were happy. Bad people suffered. Good people who suffered must have done something to displease God. It came as a shock to them when they were forced to ask the question, "Why do bad things happen to good people?" and the book of Job was one attempt to resolve that issue. Christianity built on Judaism, and Islam buit on both. They all have basically the same idea of suffering, traditionally. If you do what is right in the eyes of God, you will be rewarded, and if you are not rewarded in this life, you will be rewarded in the next life. This is a very simplistic explanation of difficult theological concepts but I don't think that I am too far off the mark.

I think Jesus came to say some things that need to be interpreted a little differently than they usually are. I think he was telling us that suffering is universal (see Buddha) but not a result of angering God (see Judaism). Instead, suffering really doesn't matter because we all suffer but what does matter is that you have a good relationship with God. That relationship is not built on acts of kindness, or adherence to laws, or even acts of piety. Like any other relationship, it is built on trust, love, and familiarity. Whether you are a slave or a king, the important thing is that relationship. Whether you are Jewish or non-Jewish, the important thing is that relationship. Whether you are sick or well or rich or poor or white or black or gay or straight or anything else that separates people into sub-groups, the important thing is that relationship. You can be happy in prison and sad in silk sheets. You can rejoice on your death bed, and mourn on your birthday.

The reason this is possible, I think, is because human beings decide what is good and what is bad. Follow me on this one. It may be a little tricky. Having your foot cut off is the circumstance I am going to use as a model but you can use absolutely anything as a substitute for this. You have had your foot cut off. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Under normal circumstances, we would see this as a bad thing. If you had gangrene in your foot that was threatening your life, it might be a good thing. If they only had to cut off your foot instead of your leg, it might be a good thing. The situation is not as important as the context in deciding what is good and bad. Losing a loved one is a very seriously bad thing. However, we all find reasons to lessen the impact of the loss, eventually. We say that it was a blessing that they went quickly. Or we say that it was a blessing because they were just worn out with living. Or we say that it was a good thing that we had time to say goodbye. And we almost always say that we should focus on the good times we shared and the blessing it was to have them in our life, instead of simply being sad over our loss. Let me be quick to say that our sense of loss if real, not imaginary. It is a bad thing because it makes us hurt inside, no matter what blessings can be discerned. It comes down to this. Bad things are why we hurt. Good things are why we feel great.

I think that Jesus tried, with his life and teachings, to show us that God wants us to feel great and does not want us to hurt. However, God does not (Rabbi Kushner would say "can not") change the circumstances of our life. Things happen. Sometimes we can see reason in them and sometimes we can't. I'm of the opinion that "stuff happens" and that, in and of itself, it is neither good nor bad except in so far as it causes us pain or joy. If the circumstances of our lives cause us pain, it will help to focus on the wonder of our relationship with God. If the circumstances of our life cause us to feel great, we might forget that we have a relationship with God that is even better than whatever we're feeling now. The old Coca-Cola sales pitch, "Things go better with Coke" might apply here. No matter what the circumstance, things go better with God.

As I look over my life, and consider the times when I faced circumstances that were truly frightening or painful, I can see within myself the slow shift in focus from the circumstance to my relationship with God. Like every person, I begin by pleading with God to "let this cup pass" and then I usually get angry and call God names and have even been known to deny that God exists. Eventually, I try to bargain my way out of the circumstance but that doesn't work at all well. Finally, I start talking TO God instead of AT God and then there is a slow movement towards talking WITH God. Listening to what God has to say to me. Every time I do that, I hear exactly the same thing. There is the voice in my ear whispering, "I love you; I'll take care of you; I am with you" and somehow, no matter how much I am hurting, I end up happy. I'm getting better as time goes on, I think, at remembering, before I go through all that other stuff, that God wants me to be happy and will help me get there if I will just open myself to God's embrace.

Bifocals

Sunday afternoon, I watched an excellent program on WNED called "The History of God". A good deal of the program was devoted to the belief in creationism (i.e. that the record in Genesis of how God created the world in six days reflects facts) and evolution (i.e. that the various species existing on earth, or that ever have existed, were the product of natural selection of the fittest for survival) and it became obvious to me that the real issue is the lens through which we look at the world.

Part of the program included an interview with a park ranger at the Grand Canyon. He said that he had, for many years, taught visitors that the canyon was the result of millions of years of erosion by the river and that it was simply a natural wonder that came about as a result of natural forces. However, he said, he had accepted Jesus as his personal saviour recently and had come to believe that the Biblical account of history was the correct one. He now taught people that the canyon was the result of the great flood which was chronicled in the story of Noah in the book of Genesis and was only about 4500 years old. That crystallized the issue for me. If you come to the world believing that the Bible represents the literal word of God, you tend to interpret what you see through that lens, and therefore to see the world as the result of that creation narrative. If you come to the world believing that there are natural laws that are in force, and that the scientific evidence gathered about those laws describes a different process of how the world came to be as it is, then you tend to look at the world through that lens.

So, the questions arise. How do we look at the Bible? Is it the literal word of God? Is it merely allegory? Are there parts that need to be considered as history and parts that don't? How do we distinguish between those parts? Does the discounting of the creation story to the realm of myth or allegory harm our ability to take seriously the teachings of Jesus? These are not new questions. In fact, they have been in people's minds since Christianity existed, I suspect. Is it foolish, then, to take the stories and teachings of Jesus seriously?

For me, faith is always about my relationship with God. I believe in what works for me. I look at the world therefore through, not one, but two lenses.

Through one, I see the world as I believe science sees the world. This includes natural selection, scientific cosmology, and the results of scientific research into every area of life. I see the results of this research as a "progress report". "So far, we think this is the way things happened, or things happen, or things will happen." Nothing is ever certain for the scientist but merely probable. I have just learned recently, for instance, that the neat model I was taught in high school of electrons whizzing around a nucleus of protons and neutrons in fixed paths like planetary orbits is no longer considered to be true. The whole science of quantum physics, unknown in the dark days of the sixties, was born, in part, because electrons do NOT behave this way. It is now believed that we can only say, with accuracy, that they are PROBABLY going to be in such-and-such a position. I also learned that there is something, nicknamed the "God particle", that is neither neutron, proton, or electron and without it, nothing would exist. Hence the name. The progress reports keep coming.

Through the other lens, I see the world as a place where God is active and involved. It is a world where people are called by God to various kinds of ministry, and where God intervenes in people's lives to effect outcomes that are nothing short of miraculous. I told my congregation a story on Sunday that I have difficulty believing myself. I was sitting on the slope of the Mt. of the Beatitudes on the shores of the Sea of Galilee many years ago, reading aloud the Sermon on the Mount, when I found myself shedding tears. I was embarrassed by this show of emotion but was gratified to see that the person who had been sitting nearby, listening, had left without me being aware of it, and so I was, at least, spared the public embarrassment. "All I need now", I said out loud, "is a Kleenex." At that moment, a crumpled but clean tissue blew across the grass and landed at my feet. A miracle? I'm not sure. But it still makes me go "hmmmmmmmm".

I'm not concerned that science contradicts the stories of Genesis or any other part of the Bible. I don't feel compelled to toss aside the baby with the bathwater. I accept the Biblical account of Jesus' life and teachings with a few reservations. I accept the truth of the stories of the Bible regardless of whether they happened or not. But the most important thing for me is my relationship with God, and not my relationship with the Bible. God speaks to me. God reminds me from time to time that I am doing God's ministry and not mine. God reminds me of promises I made and blessings I received. God occasionally points me in a direction and says, "Get moving". Many times God has listened to my prayer requests and answered them generously, but not always. I'm still paying crushing spousal support, for instance. In turn, I have tried my best to serve God and to respond to God's call as I understand it. I do try to do justice and love mercy. Not because it is a commandment but because it is the right thing to do. On the other hand, I have turned the other cheek repeatedly, not because it was the smart thing, or even the right thing, but because God demands it of me.

I have no interest in debating those whose belief is that the stories in Genesis are factual. If I did, I would start with the idea that light travels at 186,000 miles a second (what's that in metric?) and that certain celestial objects are many billions of miles away from Earth. That means that the light that I see started out many hundreds of thousands of years ago, and not the 6000 years to which Genesis cosmology alludes. Of course, looking through the right lens, you could always say that God circumvented the speed of light. You can see the pointlessness of the debate, I hope. I am content in saying that God loves me, and I love God, and the universe can get along very well without me understanding it, or forcing my neighbour to share my point of view. Now THAT seems Christian to me.

This Is The Place

As you stand in the crowd, with the voice of the guide droning in the background about how this church was built in the fourth century and then had to be rebuilt in the sixth, but because the images of the Magi in Persian dress were painted on the wall, the Persian invaders who had destroyed every other church, spared this one. Then the crowd shuffles forward as the Palestinian guard tells the people to be quiet because there is a service being conducted. Between the pillars, covered with the congealed smoke of incense burners; past the mosaics that adorn the ceiling, floor and walls; around behind the altar where the Greek Orthodox priests are conducting a service; and finally down the ancient stone steps to the grotto that lies beneath the altar; the crowd slowly moves. If you listen closely, you will hear a dozen different languages. If you stood here all day, you would probably hear a hundred. Camera flashes illuminate the faces in strobe clarity for an instant, time after time. Finally, you make your slow way to the spot on the floor. There is a niche in the wall, and embedded in the floor is a silver star surrounded by white marble, stained by rust, and hung all about with gold and silver lamps. Here is the place, they say, where a young girl, perhaps as young as fourteen, gave birth to a baby boy that caused angels to sing and shepherds to abandon their sheep and wise men to journey with gifts and kings to tremble on their throne. This is the place, they say, but this is not really the place.

Don’t misunderstand. It might have been here where Joseph bar Yacov, the Nazarene, brought his young wife, Miriam, and where she gave birth to the boy, Jesus. After all, this is the town. Bethlehem. It’s only a few miles from Jerusalem, even in those ancient days. Today, the edges of the modern cites are so close that they touch. Or they would touch except for the twenty foot wall that cuts Bethlehem off from the rest of Israel. It’s politics, they say, and Israel has a right to it’s security, after all. It’s too bad that the people of Bethlehem have to line up for passage through the wall to get to jobs and family, but that’s the price of security, they say.

There is a stable, too, just off to the left. Not a wooden shack. Not in this barren land. This is a land of rocks and hills and scrub and a little fuzz of grass where sheep and shepherds can eke out a bare living and not a land of rolling pasture and tall trees. This stable is created from the things that are close at hand. It is made of rock. A cave, in fact. Probably a natural one to start with and then hollowed out by the hand of man to make a little more room for the animals, the tools, the forage and feed and the hundred bits and pieces that a man needs to look after his animals properly. The curved roof is supported, now, with steel and wood. Hanging everywhere are censors and the walls are lined with tapestries, and the floor is crowded with tourists shuffling through, past that place on the floor and the manger. But there is a stable so this COULD be the place. But it isn’t really the place.

Then we make our slow way up the stairs on the other side of the grotto and emerge on the north side of the altar and wind our way through renovation and repair scaffolding to the outer courtyard and finally to the street. You can stand here and see the hills where shepherds watched o’er flocks by night. Or you can turn the other way and see the plaza crowded with men of every age selling pins, hats, necklaces, prayer beads, nativity sets, olive wood flutes and anything else you could possibly want to remember your visit to the place. And you can see the line up of people making their way in the other door to join the throng inside who will slowly make their way past the pillars, behind the altar, down the ancient steps, to the place. If it were the place, you could almost understand it. But it’s not really the place.

The place is not in that church. It’s not in Bethlehem. It’s not even in Israel. It is right here. Right here in this place. Right here. In THIS place. Joseph and Mary are making their slow journey, not from Nazareth to Bethlehem, but from the first century before Christ to the twenty-first century after Christ. They are not coming by donkey, but on the wings of the Holy Spirit. They are not coming because an emperor decreed that, for the census, each man should return to the place he was born, but because the God who decreed that the sun, moon and stars should shine and that the wind should blow and that babies should be born, loves you.

They are coming because Christ needs to be born in your heart. The heart is not a safe, secure, warm and cozy place. Sometimes it is stormy, and sometimes it is cold, and sometimes it is broken, and sometimes it is old. The heart is buried under all of the things that we have sacrificed on the altar of our lives. It is below all of the trappings of religion, status, wealth, comfort, and security. It is not a place where everyone is allowed to go, tramping through and flashing pictures to email to their relatives back home. It is a place we keep secret and sheltered and where, most of the time, we are even afraid to go ourselves. That is the place.

That is the place where Christ will be born, if he is to be born at all. That is the place where Christ is needed, if he is needed anywhere. That is the place where Christ can rule if he is truly a king. That is the place where God seeks to shelter his only son because God understands that it is only in the hearts of human beings where the kind of shelter that everyone needs can be found. If there is any Christ in Christmas whatsoever, it is found in the hearts of those who love him. That is the place.

You can travel this world from pole to pole and see all manner of wonders. There are things in nature that will take your breath away with their beauty, majesty and serenity. There are things that are made by human hands that dwarf the imagination of anyone who sees them, and leaves them believing that anything is possible. There are things that are sub-microscopic and things that dwarf the milky way. You can meet people of every skin colour, of every language, of every belief and be amazed at the variety and complexity of the human animal. But no matter where you go, what you see, who you meet, what you study, or what you learn, there is ultimately only one place where you have to be, and only one place where you can experience the love of God as shown in the gift of Jesus Christ. The only place you ever have to go to find God is within yourself, for Christ was born within you, and Christ lives within you now, and Christ will carry you beyond this world just when you feel that your days are at an end. Look into yourself, see the Christ emerging there, and bow your self in humble adoration, for this….is…..the place.

Transformation....Again

It's almost here. Just another few days and I will be taking off from Toronto on a plane bound for Istanbul, and from there to Amman, Jordan. After three days in Jordan, I'm moving on to Israel for another ten days. I can hardly wait.

Yesterday, I took the day off. I had to. I had been feeling anxious and irritable and unable to concentrate on anything because I want to be gone and I have to wait until Saturday. So I busied myself with a number of things I could do in preparation for the trip and I felt a great deal better. I probably shouldn't be all that excited because I've been there before. Everywhere but Istanbul and that hardly counts since we have only a brief lay-over to change planes. I've seen Petra and Mt. Nebo and Bethany (the Jordan version). I've been to Israel a half-dozen times and seen some of the same sites (sights) every time. Masada and Bethlehem and the old city of Jerusalem and the Garden Tomb. I always see something new but there IS a lot of repetition. Not only that, but being the Tour Leader, though it has it's perqs, is no vacation. People ask the most remarkable questions and have expectations that are often far from realistic. I can understand it. They're spending a lot of money on a journey that they are only going to do once in their life, so they want it to be perfect. However, it makes the life of a Tour Leader a constant strain as you try to balance all the needs and desires of fifteen or twenty people in a strange country and in the midst of a strange culture. The strain is so great that the last time I was there was in 2007, just before I began working at SCUC, towards the end of the trip, I begged a close friend who was travelling with us to shoot me if I ever considered doing this again. Within a year, I was already eager to go back.

So why am I eager? Because a journey to Israel changes you. It has a mystical and magical effect on everyone who takes the journey. I'm not fanatical about the devotion to "things" in religion, as anyone who reads this blog will know. I'm enough of a student of history and archaeology to understand that the "traditional" site that something happened and the actual site are often two very different places. I understand that my faith is not based on any association with places, dates, or even events. My faith is based on my relationship with God. However, I defy anyone to go to the Garden Tomb and not be moved by the spirit of the place. I can't see how anyone can stand on the Mount of the Beatitudes and not hear the echoes of Jesus' words. Blessed are those who can recite the whole passage. I was hushed in my very soul when I visited a small synagogue in Nazareth with stones worn smooth by the passage of sandals for more than two thousand years and realized that it was on these very stones that Jesus walked. Even the less "Christian" sites have great power. Petra is amazing. Masada is incredibly sad. Yad Vashem reduces a human being to a silent, introspective and profoundly depressed and angry state simultaneously. I can remember thinking, on my first trip in the late eighties, that this land had seen so much sorrow, anger and bloodshed since before the beginning of recorded history.

In Israel, when new soldiers are inducted into the armed services, they are marched out into the desert and up the snake trail to the top of Masada where they hear the story of the zealots who killed their family members and who died by their own hands rather than be captured by the Romans. Then they vow that such a price will "never again" be paid. Despite the similarities to the Nuremburg Rallies that were such a highlight of the very regime that gave modern meaning to the phrase "never again" for the Jews, there is a lesson to be learned.

If it were up to me, I would have a denominational fund to pay for every candidate who is about to graduate into ministry so that they could spend two weeks in Israel. I would be brutally frank about the archaeological record so that they would know that there are very few places where we can assume that Jesus actually walked. I would be crystal clear about the inherent and systemic racism that is the unfortunate by-product of Israeli-Arab friction. I would point out to every one of them that history did not stop in 30 C.E. when Jesus died. Neither did engineering, science, medicine, or the baser ambitions of people for power and money. I would let the area cast its spell over them and, hopefully, open their eyes to the harsher realities of life as well as the sweep of history and the beauty of what has been achieved by the human race in many areas, even in this pain-wracked land. Maybe then they would discover the humility of service instead of the arrogance of authority.

I have recently woken up, once again, to the fact that faith is about one's relationship with God; that I am here at God's whim; that God is for my growth, but also for my pruning. I am a servant. God is the Master. I am the hands and feet and not the mind of God. I feel priveleged to be considered worthy by God of whatever service I can do on God's behalf. I have a feeling that if more ministers subscribed to the same point of view, we see more saints in ministry and a lot fewer charlatans.