Guest Moodler: Be Real

Today's reflection was given by my friend, Cathy, for her United Church Community. The United Church and many other churches mark today as Truth and Reconciliation Sunday because it is the day closest to National Truth and Reconciliation Day, a day that was declared in Canada in response to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission's 94 Calls to Action. 

Truth and Reconciliation Sunday
at the Community of Emmanuel

So our little Community of Emmanuel prayed heartfelt prayers several times and in different ways for Truth and Reconciliation during our 45 minute service. 

Then at the Catholic Mass I attended afterward with my parents and Lee, there was not one word about Truth and Reconciliation. Not one word. 

So this afternoon, I walked to my nearest Anglican Church to enjoy their commemoration of the day with sharings by people who are survivors of residential schools and intergenerational trauma, honour songs, and a round dance. At the end there was a wonderful spirit of community and bannock to share. 

Today I feel the poverty of my own church's neglect of a day that should be important to all Canadians, no matter their faith. It's not even mentioned in the Canadian Catholic Liturgical Calendar in my monthly missalette, though other churches have been commemorating it since it was declared in 2021, and have been acknowledging the need for truth and reconciliation efforts since long before that!

In the spirit of reconciliation, I share my friend Cathy's reflection. May a willingness to hear the Truth and to work for Reconciliation be the basis for all our interactions with Indigenous People who have suffered so much because of past abuse and neglect and the forcing of foreign world views that were not in keeping with their respect for all people and Creator's creation.

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Sermon September 29, 2024

“Face Facts: Be Real”

National Day of Truth and Reconciliation

Cathy Coulter

When I was mulling over ideas for a sermon for our challenging reading today, I was doing a crossword and I read this clue: Face Facts, 6 letters. Answer? Be real. And I thought, that's what Jesus is doing in this passage from Mark as he teaches his disciples and us. Face facts. Sin and evil are real. There's no sugar coating it.

Tomorrow is the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. The truth and reconciliation process and the day marking it is a time to face the facts of the tragic legacy of residential schools and a long history of injustice towards Indigenous people. Over the last few decades many of us in this country were waking up to facing the facts of these harms. I know I was, having never been exposed to history from an indigenous point of view. It has been an uncomfortable wake up call as we think about our history as a country.

Last year I also led the service for the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation and I spoke about my own journey of reconciliation. My journey and my reactions were painful at times, and beautiful at times. I experienced growth and change. We do grow. We increase our awareness, our understanding, our compassion. This is good. And as time marches on we will continue to grow and get better and better. The world will get better and better. Kinder, safer, better for all. More equality. More caring and sharing.

At least that's how I used to think the world worked. Progress. Maybe a few setbacks. Dr. Martin Luther King said, “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice”. In popular movies and books that I like, the good guys ultimately win over evil. The Psalms and other scripture often talk about the goodness of God prevailing. Psalm 27 says, “I am sure I shall see the goodness of our God in the land of the living” (Psalm 27:13).

And I believe that with all my heart. But at the same time, as I age, as I see what's happening in the world, I think I've been naïve to believe that things will always get better. I remember the moment I lost my naïve optimism. It was the 2016 US election. Then there was the pandemic and more and more polarization on social media and wars and political discord and environmental destruction with no evidence that humanity will turn it around. Increasing homelessness. Increasing addiction. Increasing anger and random acts of violence.  A young generation awash in anxiety. Backlashes to issues I thought were progressing. The complication of doing what we think is the right thing and the confusion when the ripple effects turn out to be the wrong thing. The dangers of black and white thinking.

Does anyone else feel this way? I  know they do because I've heard lots of people talk about not looking forward to the future in this current time. It's easy to feel despair when we think things are getting worse. But difficult times present an opportunity; an opportunity to face facts. To be real. To look at some hard truths. Jesus was not one to shy away from talking hard truths. Talking about sin and evil, like in our reading today. It sure can be uncomfortable. So bear with the discomfort while I explore it, but know that I'll get around to some good news as well, because Jesus is also all about good news.

Sin is a word I sort of rejected many years ago. The sin and redemption model of Christianity was very harsh and hard to relate to, frankly. I tried to be a good person. I didn't think I'd racked up a lot of big sins. The thought of people I loved, or even anyone, going to hell because they were so called sinners or they didn't believe in Christ didn't make sense to me. The word sin can be very triggering for people who associate it with fire and brimstone preachers who judge everyone who doesn't fit into their very narrow view of what is acceptable. I remember a mentor talking about how the prayer of confession in church would be more helpful if it became a prayer of affirmation for all those people who had trouble feeling worthy. That made sense to me. The image of God as a harsh judge who punished sin was gradually replaced in my imagination by a more loving God who loves us in all that we are. I began to see that getting better and better in an effort to become perfect is not a requirement to earn God's love.

This was all very important for me to address my own feelings of unworthiness. But gradually, as I became more grounded, I began to consider the concept of sin again with more nuance. What was it in me that didn't do the good I wanted to do, but the harmful things that I do not want to do, as Paul says in Romans? Why did I feel stuck so much of the time and not the person I wanted to be?  Why did I feel close to God one day, and completely distant the next? Why couldn't I understand myself?

Answering all that required me to look within, at all the faults and compulsions and shadows that hide there. Doing that with the security that God loves me no matter what, allowed me to admit I'm a flawed human being and not try to pretend otherwise. And while I do my best to correct what is hampering me or harming others, I'm never going to reach perfection. Can I learn to accept myself as God does, even as the loser that I am?

I heard a story once that struck a chord in me. A spiritual teacher named James Finley has problems with being forgetful and disorganized and he went to give a talk one evening and realized he'd forgotten all his notes. So he had to quickly jot some thoughts down just before he went on and in exasperation at himself, he talked to God saying, “God, am I ever going to get over this problem of not getting it all together?” and he heard God reply, “It's not looking good, Jim. But I love you anyway.” I loved that story. I felt something relax in me when I heard it. My striving for perfection for getting better and better all the time wasn't likely going to work nor was it a necessity to my being okay.

So the word sin for me became another way of saying my human limitations. Flaws that hamper me and harm others, whether intentionally or not. And yes, I can work on these things as best I can to grow in understanding and compassion. But first and foremost I have to humbly acknowledge them.

So what is Jesus saying in our reading today about cutting off our hand or foot or taking out our eye if it causes us to lose our faith rather than be thrown into hell? Well, I'm not sure, but one thing seems clear and it's that Jesus is telling us to take sin seriously. To face facts. To be real. To practice telling the truth about our lives, as we said in the prayer of confession this morning.

But there is more to sin than just recognizing our own faults. There is sin in the rest of humanity, in society. This is where my naïve optimism that the world was getting nicer and nicer kind of crashed as I wonder if that is even possible for humanity.

I came across a book in the library whose title caught my eye. It was “I Don't Believe in Atheists ” by Chris Hedges. In it he talks about the belief in our society that we progress morally as a species. The belief that science and reason will save us. That we think humans are “the culmination...of centuries of human advancement, rather than creatures unable to escape from the irrevocable follies and blunders of human nature.” Unless we face the facts of the sinfulness in the human condition, we will ignore or minimize catastrophes, thinking eventually things will get better. I think this has been true of the climate crisis or war, with us thinking “we'll figure it out in time” or “we are better than that now” while it has become clear that we haven't figured it out in time and that we are not better than that. While I do see the amazing goodness in people and am optimistic that our better natures can prevail, I think it's important to be real that when given the opportunity and in many circumstances, people can behave very, very badly. How many people, famous and otherwise, have I admired, heroes to me even, who have been exposed in scandal? Too many to count.

Hedges writes, “We have nothing to fear from those who do or do not believe in God; we have much to fear from those who do not believe in sin. The concept of sin is a stark acknowledgement that we can never be omnipotent, that we are bound and limited by human flaws and self-interest.” By acknowledging and being alert to sin in humanity and society, we are better prepared to address it, work to limit it, and not sweep it under the rug. Being awake to humans'  propensity to cause harm means we are more awake to the harms humans are causing, preventing us from hiding in a comfortable bubble while we passively wait for the world to change. It's like the work to look at our own individual faults and flaws. We become clear-eyed about sin and evil in the world, not in a despairing way and not in a way that leaves us feeling nothing but guilt, but in a real way that gives us courage to understand it and to stand up to it. Just as Jesus did.

For that we need to be rooted in hope. As Jesus was. But before I talk about that I'll mention one more idea from the Christ Hedges' book because it fits with our reading.

Hedges talks about the dangerous path of fundamentalist religion that needs to convert or overcome non-believers even by violent means. The Crusades of the Middle Ages, witch burnings, the Spanish Inquisition, the missionaries in the new world. And on and on into our present time. But Hedges argues that just as dangerous are the new atheists who have a utopian belief that science and reason will allow humanity to master its destiny and everyone standing in the way of that need to be cancelled or overcome, including and especially, religious people. He says these two groups, the fundamentalists and the more extreme and vocal atheists, both peddle in absolutes and call for the conversion or eradication of those who aren't on-side. I find there is more and more of that “our side vs your side” in today's world and I find it disturbing. People who feel they are on the right side of history can be very scathing about those who they feel are on the wrong side of history. Those who think they are right can be violent towards those they think are wrong, no matter what the issue. “If you're not with us, you're part of the problem and we can't associate with you,” seems to be the attitude.

Jesus warns about this in the first part of our reading when the disciples were a little peeved with those weren't in their group but were driving out demons. Jesus told them to let those demon-expellers be. It would soon be clear enough who was legitimate and who wasn't. I think this is a warning to us not to be too quick to dismiss those who aren't in the correct group or don't think the way we do. This is the lesson of small communities who have to get along with everyone, no matter what their politics or religious beliefs are, if they are to have any kind of community life. “Have the salt of friendship among yourselves, and live in peace with one another,” Jesus says at the end of our reading.

Be real about sin but live in hope that God's goodness will prevail. Be clear-eyed about human frailty but live in peace with one another. And while I didn't finish the Chris Hedges' book, I couldn't help thinking that there was something missing in what he was saying. I think he was missing love. The power of love to transform our frailties into a power for good. Yes, the world has big problems and this will never change. We progress morally, we fall back. And on and on it goes. But we don't need to despair because somehow God is present in all of it. The suffering and the goodness. The human weakness and the courage. The arc of the moral universe bending towards justice. Thanks be to God for all that we are, and all that we can be, but mostly for all that we are. May we be real with ourselves and our humanity, just as real as God is and hope is and love is. Amen.

Guest Moodler: Sermon on Forgiveness

My friend, Cathy, has written a beautiful sermon that's she's delivering at her church today. Her congregation gets to hear the story of Joseph forgiving his brothers (Genesis 45), and the story of Jesus' encounter with the Canaanite woman (Matthew 15:21 ->). (These days, I am the Canaanite woman, pleading with Jesus to heal my daughter, too, who has been having a difficult time of late -- if you have any spare prayers, I'd be grateful.) I'd like to be in Cathy's church, to hear her share with her Christian community. What she says about spending time in silence with God, the ground of our being, is so true. Enjoy.

Forgiveness

Cathy Coulter, RN, BScN, Parish Nurse

Not everyone that comes to church has grown up hearing the stories of the Hebrew Scriptures, but chances are they know the story of Joseph and the amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Here’s a quick synopsis: Joseph was the favoured child among the twelve sons and one daughter of Jacob. His jealous brothers sold him into slavery to a caravan going to Egypt. In Egypt Joseph experienced suffering and adventure but eventually ended up finding favour with the Pharaoh and gaining a position of power. When famine spread throughout every country, Jacob’s sons came to Egypt to look for food and Joseph recognized his brothers and finally revealed himself to them as we heard in the reading this morning. It’s a really great story with twists and turns that I’d forgotten about and I encourage you to read it again for yourselves.

Our scripture passage today is dramatic. Think of the emotion of that moment. Joseph had been ripped from his family and his home and here were the brothers that had done it. We expect Joseph to harbour anger and thoughts of revenge. But Joseph forgave his brothers with a graciousness that turned their world upside down.

How about Jesus’ response to the Canaanite woman in the Matthew gospel? Was his response as welcome and gracious as Joseph’s? A Canaanite woman seeks out Jesus to beg him to save her daughter and Jesus says in effect, “Nope. You’re not good enough.” Jesus has taken his disciples away for a rest and that rest gets interrupted by this demanding woman. Who hasn’t been in this situation? You’re just about to have a break or settle into something you enjoy and you’re interrupted by someone’s demands. You’re annoyed. You ignore them, like Jesus did initially, or feel like saying to them, “I can only please one person a day. Today’s not your day. Tomorrow’s not looking good either.” But the woman has the courage to persist and use her wits to counter Jesus’ argument that only the Jews should receive his healing. Jesus finally shows graciousness at this point. He hears the woman. He changes his mind.

Does he admit he made a mistake? Not in our scripture reading, and likely not in traditional theology. But I like to think about Jesus, not as some sanitized, sinless saint, but also as a human being who has the vulnerability to admit he was wrong and change his actions accordingly.

How I want to see myself is how I see Jesus once the woman has schooled him with her quick witted reply to his protests… “Even the dogs get the crumbs”. How often I react when I’m caught out in bad behaviour by feeling embarrassed and defensive and “double down” to prove I’m in the right. But Jesus softens and changes his attitude. He shows the woman respect, hearing her and praising her for her faithfulness. And, best of all, he sends his healing energy to the Canaanite woman’s daughter.

Two stories this morning. One of forgiving and one of admitting making a mistake. We need to practice both of these actions to bring peace into our lives and our world. But how difficult forgiving and admitting mistakes are for us.

Forgiveness is a mysterious process to me. It’s not something we can summon up with will power. We can say with our heads, “I forgive you,” but we can’t force our hearts. I don’t know if it’s something we can practice and work on, or if it is more to do with God’s grace working on and healing our hearts. It doesn’t happen all at once, but you’ll know when you’ve truly forgiven someone. I’ve tried to figure out how to express the feeling, the knowing, but I can’t, other than to say a bad feeling is replaced by a feeling of love. We can’t force ourselves to feel forgiveness but I wonder if the first step is wanting to forgive. Wanting to have our eyes opened to the other’s humanity like Jesus and wanting to find gratitude like Joseph.

And what about admitting we’ve made a mistake? This can be excruciating, if we’re honest with ourselves. I call it my cringe-worthy moments. When, after my blustering and protesting and telling friends my side of the story to prove I had every reason to act (or not act) or say what I did…when I can finally admit to myself that I behaved badly or acted stupidly, or spoke wrongly, I feel an inward cringing that I find really hard to take. Do others ever experience this? That terrible feeling of cringing embarrassment?

I think I’m not alone because there is an epidemic of being right at all costs. I’m sure many relationships end because both parties insist they are in the right. Marriage can be a battle ground of two people being right. Like the old joke goes, I married Mr. Right. I didn’t know his first name was Always. The same joke can be told about Mrs. Right. A self-help talk on the internet is titled, “People Would Rather Die than Give up Being Right.” The classic, pathological example of this is the current leader in the country to the south never admitting he is wrong.

A really nice little book about this kind of thing that I found surprisingly useful is the classic “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff” by Richard Carlson with the subtitle “And it’s All Small Stuff”. One of his quotes is, “Choose to be kind over being right and you’ll be right every time.”

So it’s not easy to admit we’re wrong. And it’s not easy to forgive. And I think that it is almost impossible to do either fully without two conditions.  These are the two conditions for being able to forgive and being able to admit we’ve made a mistake. The first is we have to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. While forgiving may seem magnanimous, in reality, true forgiveness is hard because it means we leave ourselves vulnerable to being hurt again. Think about this for a minute. Even if you never see the other person again, to forgive you must drop the wall that you put up to protect yourself, and that is a vulnerable place to be, but the only place from which you can live a whole hearted life.

And of course, to admit we’ve made a mistake is to be vulnerable. It is to admit we are not perfect, and perhaps, like me, feel some uncomfortable feelings.

The second condition to be able to forgive and admit we’ve made a mistake is really the only condition because we can’t allow ourselves to be vulnerable without it. This condition is knowing we are grounded in that which created us and sustains us. In our tradition we call that Love. We call that God. We need to know in our hearts, in the very core of being, that we are okay as we are, loved as we are, not required to pass a worthiness test. That there is a purpose and a rightness to our very specific being in the world right here and now. If we don’t experience this sense of okayness and are not grounded in that sense of being loved, it will be impossible to become vulnerable. It will be impossible to forgive and allow someone who has hurt us back into our heart, or to admit we are flawed and imperfect and (God forbid!) wrong about something. It will be impossible because without that sense of groundedness it will feel like we are falling, with our feet swept out from under us. It will feel like we are dying. People would rather die than give up being right.

Jesus said over and over, in his words and in his life, you have to die before you can live. Sometimes life circumstances force us to be vulnerable. And then we fall, and that is where God begins to reconstruct our hearts. But we can also get a head start on the heart reconstruction that gives us that sense of ultimate security, and allow God to work on our hearts with prayer, particularly contemplative prayer when we stop doing and learn to sit in the presence of the Holy.

Until we come to know God as the ground of our being, we experience too much anxiety about protecting ourselves and making sure we don’t slip up. But when we sit in intentional silence, there is no hiding from ourselves, no pretending that we are better than we are, or covering up because we think we are worse than we are. In silence we can’t pretend we are in control and slowly and gently we begin to relax into that which is holding us. Into who is holding and always has been. And always will be. Practice sitting in silence every day. Start with 5 minutes. Then 10. Then 20. And see your life change.

What two betters examples do we have of people who lived grounded in the love of God than Joseph and Jesus? Look at the rest of the stories of their lives. It is really profound.

So now I want to ask you, who in your life are you estranged from, or have a strained relationship with? Are you ready to think about forgiveness?

A few years ago I spoke here about a vulnerable letter I wrote to my cousin when our relationship had been fractured. That was the talk that I got the most feedback about ever. One woman told me that after I spoke she went home and phoned her son whom she hadn’t spoken to for two years. Well, ever since then I was thinking about another letter I needed to write for another relationship that I had deliberately let go, but never felt right about. This was a friend that I had shared many important life experiences with when we were in our twenties. But I did not relate to the direction her life took after that. It seemed not to share many of the values that were important to me and I grew increasingly uncomfortable whenever we got together until finally I just kind of dropped her. But it niggled and niggled and I could never move on. It took years, maybe ten years until I was ready to try to find some closure and I did that this spring, writing her a letter over three stints in a coffee shop. The letter I ended up writing took me by surprise because through it I worked out why I was so uncomfortable with her life choices. I had been jealous. I was not secure in my own choices and felt I suffered in comparison. My wobbly self-esteem took the form of judging her harshly but what I worked out in the letter, now that I am more in that place I mentioned of feeling grounded, was that I actually behaved badly towards her. It turned out to be a letter of confession and apology.

When I came home from the coffee shop after I was done, I felt really buzzed, like the decaf coffee I’d ordered had been caffeinated. But I felt really good. Really happy with the letter. It was a good energy, and the rest of that day I turned to a big job I’d been poking away at and that was cleaning out the basement. And my goodness, did I clean out that basement! I couldn’t believe it when I was done. I honestly felt a surge of power and energy that I can only explain by the release of admitting I made a mistake and asking for forgiveness, and for forgiving my friend as well.

Annie Dillard writes:  “On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? ... It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews…. ”

There is power in this God of ours. God is the rock on which we stand. God is the wind beneath our wings. God is the great dissolver, the great heart reconstructor. God gives us the power to forgive and ask for forgiveness and even clean our basements.

Let us pray.

God of Joseph and Jesus, thank you for the gift of life! Thank you for the gifts of the heart. Give us courage and grace to forgive and be forgiven. 

Amen

Guest Moodler: Sermon on the Bread of Life

My friend Cathy, the parish nurse for her United Church community, gave the reflection at her church again last Sunday. I liked it so much, I asked her if I could share it with you. A little background information: being a prairie girl, Cathy is thrilled to have a producing peach tree in her yard (on Vancouver Island) for the first time this year. Hence the peach references. Happy Sunday!

Reflection on Bread of Life

August 19, 2012

I told a few people I was going to talk about food today. I’ve been itching to talk about food and when I saw that the reading for today was about eating and drinking flesh and blood, I thought, “Close enough!” Then I had the idea of sharing one of my miraculous peaches with the children and my thoughts turned to miracles.

          “Wine from water is not so small,

but an even better magic trick is that anything is here at all.

          So the challenging thing becomes, not to look for miracles,

 but finding where there isn’t one.”

That’s from a song by Peter Mayer talking about everything being holy and seeing miracles every day.

          Thinking about miracles reminded me of when I was 21. I was desperately seeking to relate to God in a way that made sense to me, to live a faith that made sense to me. And I found help in a book I was reading at the time called “The Colour Purple” by Alice Walker. One character explains to another what God is like and then says this line that I’ll never forget. It goes like this: “It pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.” The other woman asks her “Are you saying God is vain?” and the first woman says, “No, God just wants to be loved.”  When I read that, I thought “That is something I can do.” I was able to let go of a lot of the confusion I felt about religion and just get on with the business of loving God. It was a transformative moment for me and from time to time I like to remind myself that God doesn’t like it if I walk by the colour purple in a field and don’t notice it.

          When we notice the miracles right in front of us…the colour purple, a ripe peach, the children… that is a moment when we notice God, and in that moment transformation happens. That’s why all the great spiritual teachers encourage us to live in the present moment, to notice the now. That’s where God is and that’s where God works. As much as we fool ourselves that we can control things and self-improve ourselves, real and lasting transformation is God’s work, moment by moment by moment.

          And so what about my food sermon?  My big chance to lay down my manifesto about healthy eating? I have lots of opinions about what we should eat and not eat. The thing is, so does everybody else. There was a patient where I work in my other job. She was 109 years old. She ate mostly white bread, arrowroot cookies and tea. Well, I say if you’re in your tenth or eleventh decade, keep on doing what you’re doing! Who am I to mess with success?

I will try to sneak some healthy eating awareness into the Health Corner in the church newsletter, and maybe some other initiatives. “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” That’s a pretty good place to start a discussion.  And we can fuss about the specifics but I suspect that healthy eating has as much to do with how we eat as what we eat.

          How we eat, how we do anything, is an indication of how we live. Do we eat, and live, with a sense of gratitude or a sense of entitlement? Do we eat, and live, noticing the miracles…the colour purple, the taste of peach…or with a distracted mind and heart, focusing on our worries, our plans, our frustrations, our past or our future, but not the present moment? Do we eat, and live, aware of abundance or taking it all for granted?

          Two years ago I became a vegetarian. I’d been thinking about it for a long time.  I was worried (I am worried) about the environment and wanted to do something personally significant, even if the impact was small. I came across a book on cd in the library, one of those books that talks about where our food comes from and the impact of the food industry on animals and the environment. I listened to it as I drove back and forth to work in Victoria. None of the information should have been surprising but at that time I heard it with a new awareness. This book talked about those mega factory farms in the USA, the conditions under which chickens are raised with the space of a size of a piece of paper per chicken, beaks being cut short, and desensitized workers in the slaughter house treating the live chickens horrifically. Pigs living in a cage or box without enough space to even stand up, absolutely imprisoned. Those are the stories that touched something deep in me. I had never been a particularly strong animal advocate. I grew up on a farm and knew where food came from. But that book made me feel terrible, and guilty, not so much as an individual, but as a people.

          I’m not against meat, or farmers. I don’t need anyone else to become a vegetarian. I think my point is that we are guilty as a people of taking our food for granted. Roast chicken used to be a special treat. I have a friend whose family still has chicken for Christmas dinner. I used to think, “How ordinary!” until I realized that it wasn’t always ordinary. Now we eat chicken every day. That huge amount of chicken has to come from somewhere and the factory farms supply the demand. And creatures suffer to supply it. Same with other foods and creatures when as a society we just want more, more, more.

          My point is to be aware. Be grateful. If you have the ability and means to choose food from environmentally and ethically sound options, it’s soul satisfying to do so.  If you’re in a situation where you have less choice, bless the MacDonald’s burger or whatever it is that’s nourishing you and bless and give thanks to the creature or part of creation that it came from. And enjoy it!

          Jesus calls himself the bread of life. He goes further to say we must eat his flesh and drink his blood to have life. What does this mean? Well, I’m not sure.  But I wonder if it has something to do with opening our awareness to the miracle of the moment that allows Jesus some space in our hearts and souls and minds to do his transforming, life giving work in us and ultimately through us. We become aware that we are part of this miracle, part of creation, connected to all that is and then we want to treat all that is with reverence. That is healing. That is health. That is the life that lives fully in the now and eternally.

          So go forth and look for miracles, “God’s footprints” a friend of mine calls them. And miracles will be sure to find you.

          Let us pray.

          Loving God,

Thank you for the miracle of this day, for the colour purple, the taste of a peach, the face of a child, the love of a friend. Help us to notice creation, to love and care for creation, to love and care for ourselves and each other and in so doing, love you.      

Amen

(If by chance you've missed the Peter Mayer song the other two times I've posted it, here it is again, for your enjoyment.)

Guest Moodler: Sermon for Canada Day

July 1st is Dominion Day, also known as Canada Day. It's a wonderful day to celebrate a wonderful country of beauty, diversity, and freedom... and a day to reflect on our sense of identity...

Once again, my best friend is giving the reflection at her church this morning, and a good one it is! It flows from today's gospel reading, which is Mark 5.21-43. Happy reading, and Happy Canada Day!

Reflection on “Who(se) am I?”

Cathy Coulter

July 1, 2012

          Several years ago there was a TV beer commercial where a man comes out on a stage in a plaid shirt and does a rant about being Canadian. He gets really excited and louder and louder. “A toque is a hat, a chesterfield is a couch and it’s pronounced zed not zee. … My name is Joe and I am Canadian.”  The ad became very popular, I think because it feels good to shout out our pride.

          Well, my name is Cathy and I am Canadian, and I’m proud of it too. Canada is a wonderful place to live. We are so blessed. So lucky. A great way to find this out is to travel and I did that, living in England for two years when I was in my twenties. It’s startling for a young person to realize we’re not the centre of the universe after all but at the same time learn we have so much to be grateful for. Canada is a good place to come home to.

          One thing that makes us Canadian is sharing our stories. Some of the Canadian stories I love include Terry Fox, Tommy Douglas, Banting and Best, Anne of Green Gables, the Last Spike. One of the best parts of my work is hearing the stories of people in this church. They are great Canadian stories, too. The vision and creation of a railroad that ran from sea to sea is brought to life for me when I remember Reg’s story of going to war as a young man and taking the train for five days to Halifax where he caught a ship for England. When he got there, he stayed with some relatives who didn’t believe that there was a railroad on this earth long enough to travel on for five days. They thought Reg was telling a tall tale and he couldn’t convince them otherwise. I’ve read about D-Day and seen the movie “Saving Private Ryan”, barely able to watch the opening scene of the Normandy beach landing, it’s so intense. Then I met Bill S. and heard his story about being there, working as a communications officer on one of the landing craft. He lived that intensity and it’s an incredible story to hear. In another story, a 13 year old Gloria travelled with her family by car across the country, moving from Quebec to Vancouver Island in 1951. On the way, they had some adventures including the three kids coming down with chicken pox. Some years later, Gloria met a Lake Cowichan boy, named Ron who was a boom man on the log booms before they used boats, nimbly walking along the logs with his cork boots and pipe pole. When I heard that I thought about the Kate and Anna McGarrigle song that I love, “The Log Driver’s Waltz”, in which a log driver learns to step lightly making him the favourite of the girls at dances.

          So it’s a good day to celebrate our stories and celebrate our wonderful country. Like that commercial we can be proud to say “I am Canadian.”

          Being Canadian is part of our identity. I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately about identity in the context of our spiritual life. In the first half of life we need to establish our identity, a healthy self-image. When I graduated from nursing, I got a job at a summer camp. When people called me “nurse”, I looked behind me to see who they were talking to. My mother, who was also a nurse, worked on a maternity ward for a couple of years before she got married. And yet when she brought her first born home from the hospital, she cried all the way home because while she may have cared for babies, she’d never been a mother. Eight years later she had four kids calling her Mom and a good one she was.

          We consolidate our personalities along the way too. I’m Type A or Type B. I’m introverted or extroverted. We tell ourselves, I’m good at this, not good at that.  I’m successful. I’m a failure. Churches have an identity too. We’re progressive, we’re Bible based, we’re righteous, we’re sinners, and so on.

          So we develop our identities and that’s good and necessary but then in the second half of life, we are called to go deeper.  Going deeper means to look beneath our self-image and personality to who we truly are. I can ask, “Who am I?”  but I need to ask, “Whose am I?” And the answer is I am a child of God. I have come from God and belong to God.  By the time we reach middle age, our identities are so entrenched that we think that’s what our life is all about. We forget that we are more than Canadian, a nurse, a woman, a member of the United Church… That deeper part of ourselves is our true self, that which is one with God and all creation – that self that is beneath that shell we call our identity.

          If we think our identity is all we are, we tend to take that pretty seriously.  It tends to make us think we are separate. We are this and not that. And human nature doesn’t trust what we are not, nor do we understand it.  We are so invested in our identities that we are easily upset and offended and self-righteous. While on vacation this winter, Jim and I were at a busy tourist site and there were a lot of people moving both directions down the paved path. There was barely enough room to walk three across but group after group came towards us walking two or three abreast so I was constantly stepping out of the way. Because I am a person that follows the rules, I think everyone should follow the rules which were clear to me: everyone should walk single file when passing. I got more and more offended and upset and I stopped stepping aside, squeezing past people which really didn’t make me feel any better.  I could hardly notice my surroundings I was so annoyed. Afterwards, I thought about how silly I was. Everyone was just having a good time (except me). If I’d let go of keeping my identity as the behaviour police, I might have had a better chance at being open to God’s spirit in the beautiful surroundings and in the people surrounding me.

          This is certainly where road rage comes from, and probably most conflicts. Our identity is offended.

          Another problem with taking our identity too seriously is that we think we’re in control. This can also prevent us from being open to God’s spirit to work through us. As a helper, I’m quite familiar with this. I have an idea that it’s up to me to fix everything, help everyone. A situation arises in which there is a need and I put up my hand and call out, “It’s okay, God. I’ve got this one.” I usually end up trying to control others (in their own best interests of course) and it usually doesn’t work too well. Those times I am, by the grace of God, open to the moment are usually amazing moments, and healing moments.

          Our identities keep us bound up. We can’t think outside the box. We’re too busy performing our roles and controlling our environment. We can’t be as open as we might be. Jesus did not live this way. He knew whose he was.  He said, “I am in the Father and the Father is in me” (John 14:11) and “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30). Jesus knew that God not only creates life but lives through us. Jesus knew it so well that that core of light spread to the very edges of his clothes so that when the woman with the hemorrhage touched the hem of his garment she was healed.

I’ve always loved this story. I always thought it was about the power of the woman’s faith, but I’m realizing it’s also about how open Jesus was, right to the edges of himself and beyond. Jesus did not have borders. That didn’t make him a pushover. To the contrary. Jesus was connected to his true identity in God and didn’t spend all his energy making sure his worldly identity was looking good.

That’s likely what all the people jostling around Jesus were doing. I can imagine their thoughts… “Woowee, here I am with the celebrity Jesus. If everyone back home could see me now.” Or “I wish that disciple would quit hogging Jesus. It’s my turn.” Only one person was as open as Jesus and that was the woman with the hemorrhage. All the people milling around were in contact with Jesus but only the woman who reached out in faith received his healing power.

          Her self-image was probably at rock bottom. You could say she had nothing to lose or you could say she had nothing in the way. Propping up our ego and clinging to control can get in the way of God’s healing power.  Suffering can open us up. It shows us that our identities are fragile things, that we’re not in control. 

Jairus, also in the reading this morning had that lesson thrust upon him. We know he was a leader, I imagine of fairly high status, but his status could not keep his daughter from getting seriously ill. In the reading we see a man humbling himself, throwing himself at Jesus feet and on his mercy, utterly dependent. And then, to add insult to injury, when time is critical and every second counts, Jesus is interrupted by the woman touching his garment and he takes time out to attend to her. If I were Jairus, I would have been wild with frustration. I would think I could control the situation by getting Jesus to move faster.  Jairus learned that he was utterly dependent on Jesus, on God.

This utter dependence on God is not bad news.  It’s good news. It’s The Good News. We are God’s. God is at the centre of our universe. We can relax. No more keeping up appearances, only gratitude. When we think our external image is all there is, there is a lot of pressure to measure up and keep up the status quo.  This is not to say that having an identity is a bad thing. It’s human and necessary. But keeping a humble and open heart will lead us down the paths of grace.

          Today is a day to celebrate… celebrate this wonderful country we are so blessed to live in, celebrate the stories of this country and our own stories, too. And celebrate, knowing that while we are Canadian, even more than that, we are God’s and created, loved and able to love. Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Guest Moodler: Trinity Sunday sermon on Friendship

My dearest friend came to join our family for confirmation and graduation this past week, and we had a lot of good talking time together. She presided at her church this morning while her minister (D.) and his wife (J.) were away. Her sermon took on a life of its own after a wonderful conversation in our local coffee shop, thanks to the Trinity. Happy Trinity Sunday! And best wishes to D. & J. in their retirement! Though I don't know them personally, I know them well from Cathy's stories of them over the years...

Reflection on Friendship

Cathy Coulter

 June 3, 2012

When I found out that today is Trinity Sunday, I was a little dismayed. I had another topic in mind and the Trinity did not fit. I thought I’d say, “Today is Trinity Sunday” and then move on to what I really wanted to talk about which is friendship. But I think God had something better planned.

I was in Edmonton this past week, visiting a good friend, speaking of friendship and she’s got a religious education background. We went to a coffee shop and I read to her what I had so far for this sermon and as I read, I knew it was all wrong. I could see from her expression it wasn’t working.  When I finished, she said, “What about the Trinity? Aren’t you going to tie that in?” I said, “But my theme is friendship” and she said, “The Trinity is all about friendship.”

Our God is not the old man up in the heavens sitting on a throne all by himself. Our God is a relational God. The Trinity is a constellation of relationships between God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit; Father, Son and Holy Ghost, as we likely grew up hearing, or a newer expression: Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. The three persons of the Trinity are in relationship with each other. This we can understand because, created in the image of God, we are relational beings. Not only do we have the Trinity as a model of relationship, but we are also gathered into that friendship; we are part of it.

My friend explained the Trinity to me like this: God is in everything around us but not visible except with the eyes of faith. Jesus is the embodiment of God, God with skin on. Jesus lived a human life and is someone we can all relate to. The Holy Spirit is the overarching Love that unites us, the Spirit that moves in us and leads us to seek relationship with God. When we pray, it is not us who pray, but the Spirit who prays in us, said St. Paul. I remember the novel “The Shack” that made the rounds a few years ago. William Paul Young, the author makes God, the Father/Mother, Jesus and the Holy Spirit into characters in the story, characters that demonstrate a beautiful friendship with each other. There is a flow of love among the three persons of the Trinity and we can’t help but be participants in that love.

We are made for friendship and I have been fortunate to have a friendship that feels like it’s been created out of that kind of love. It’s a friendship that is into its 5^th decade and that’s with Maria, the friend in the coffee shop who gave me a lesson about the Trinity and the girl in my Grade One picture. That’s where we met, in Grade One in Plenty, Saskatchewan. We didn’t get to know each other well in those early years and her family moved to Edmonton when we started Grade Four. But because my grandparents lived in Edmonton, I’d call her once in a while when we went to visit and we became pen pals. We both liked to express ourselves through writing, we both needed a friend to commiserate with about not being popular, and very gradually we discovered a kindred spirit in each other. Our letters became longer – often close to twenty pages –they became more frequent - often crossing in the mail - and our letters became something we both treasured. We wrote through school, university, summer jobs, and permanent jobs, one of us living abroad, one of us getting married. Twenty four years after the first letter in Grade Four, we were curious to see how many there were, and we got together for a letter counting event which included a lot of hilarity and shrieks as we delved into letters we’d written through our teens, twenties, and thirties. Between the two of us, we had 428 letters.

That friendship grew to include lots of face to face time as I lived in Edmonton for 5 years in my moving around. We are in touch almost every day, mostly by computer these days. I can’t imagine my life without Maria. She is truly a soulmate. Years ago, she shared one of her favourite songs with me. It was written by a folksinger named Joan MacIsaac.  If you Google it on YouTube, you can hear the original and also see one of Maria singing it with her budgie accompanying her. This is how it goes:

          I hover over your left shoulder. I am the sunshine in your eyes.

          Though you don’t know it, I’m right with you

          In the shadow that is walking by your side.

          The miles between us, they don’t mean a thing.

          We conquered them so many years ago.

I hover over your left shoulder and I just wanted you to know,

I wanted you to know.

That’s the Spirit hovering over our left shoulders. That’s the love between us. And we never need to say good-bye because of that.

Henri Nouwen is one of my favourite spiritual writers and he tells a story in his book “Reaching Out” about reuniting with a friend and them sitting together in conversation and in silence. After some peaceful silence the friend said to Henri, “When I look at you it is as if I am in the presence of Christ.” Henri writes, “I did not feel startled, surprised or in need of protesting, but I could only say, ‘It is the Christ in you, who recognizes the Christ in me.’ “Yes,” the friend said, “He is indeed in our midst.” And then he said, “From now on, where you go or wherever I go, all the ground between us will be holy ground.” I love that image.

We have had another example of friendship in our church and that, of course is with D. and J. They have been wonderful friends and we don’t want to say good-bye to them. I don’t want to say good-bye. When I started coming to this church 6 years ago, I felt so lucky to have found a church with D. and J. in it. D. gives such a good sermon. His humour and comic sense of timing make us laugh and feel so good but what really stands out is his message. Every time, his sermons give me a new way to consider something, a way to expand the boundaries of my life and I can honestly say, my life has changed for the better because of D.’s sermons. Thirty-some years of ministry shows in the depth of his wisdom. I have gone to D. on more than one occasion for some advice but I remember one occasion in particular when I was really struggling with an ethical issue and with a few words of his wisdom everything became so clear for me and I felt a huge weight lifted. And J….well, I would like to be just like J. when I grow up.   I’ve seen how she generates such love and respect in the kids of the youth group and Sunday Journey, how she displays such love and respect toward every person in off the street. Her grace and clear thinking under pressure and her grace and compassion at all times with all people make her someone I so admire. Together, J. and D. have changed this church and changed us for the better, opening our vision as well as our doors, showing us how to live with respect in creation and in harmony with everyone we encounter. And yet, they remain completely humble. There is a reason I am gushing about them when they are not here. I think they would be uncomfortable with the gushing. And I want to gush.

What is it that makes D. and J. so special? The answer is simply, Love. I found a perfect description of J. and D. in the Bible. See if this sounds like them:

          D. and J. are patient and kind; they are not jealous or conceited or proud. J. and D. are not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable; they do not keep a record of wrongs. D. and J. are not happy with evil, but are happy with the truth. They never give up. Their faith, hope and patience never fail.

D. has the gift of inspired preaching...we’ve all heard him…but it’s love we’re hearing. J. has enough faith to move mountains…we’ve seen her quiet persistence… but it’s love that is at work. D. and J. are God with skin on in the way that we all are when we care for God’s creation and each other. And the warm feeling that we get when we think about them, the love that flows when we are with them? That’s the Holy Spirit.  That’s us gathered in and participating in the love of the Trinity.

We don’t have to say good-bye to J. and D. because the Holy Spirit is going to be in us hovering over their left shoulders and in them hovering over ours, especially as they head into new adventures and we head into new directions. From now on, wherever they go, no matter how far they travel, the ground between them and us will be holy ground.

But it isn’t easy to let them go! And it isn’t easy for them to leave. J. is cleaning house! The nooks and crannies and cupboards are getting a thorough going over and are going to be perfect. D. is having a hard time fathoming a Saturday night with nothing to do. After 36 years of a shared ministry, there is a strong possibility that they might feel a bit lost as they make the transition away from a life of being available 24/7. So let’s acknowledge our sadness that they are leaving us and then let’s focus on loving them into retirement. Let’s pour out love on them the way the woman with the alabaster jar poured the expensive ointment on Jesus. Let’s fill the cash purse that Fred is collecting to overflowing. Let’s really tell them how they made a difference in our lives in the paper squares that are going into the scrapbook. Let’s get lots of pictures after church which Lucy and Marta and others will be snapping as we leave.

Let’s pack this church for the next three Sundays. And finally, and most especially, in loving D. and J. into retirement, let’s not forget their legacy of love but work even harder to make this church a beacon of kindness, justice and humility as we walk with God, follow Jesus and open our hearts to the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Guest Moodler: Sermon on Enough...

My dearest friend, the one who encouraged me to start these moodlings, is a wonderful writer herself. She's also a parish nurse in a small United Church community on Vancouver Island. What follows is her sermon from last Sunday, which I think is brilliant! See for yourself.

Sermon on Enough

August 14, 2011

Cathy Coulter

      

          I’ve always been intrigued by the story of Martha and Mary. It‘s about women with real personalities. It’s a timeless situation that anyone can relate to…someone’s doing all the work and someone’s having all the fun. But I’ve always felt a little unhappy about the ending. I’m on Martha’s side in this story.  Martha’s doing the work that needs to be done, while Mary’s sitting around and Martha has the courage to speak out about the injustice of it. And Jesus chides her for it. Is it just me, or does this seem unfair?

          In this story, I imagine Martha wanted to make a nice meal for Jesus. Is that so bad? If you want a meal, not even a nice meal, just any meal, or a place to sleep or a clean house to eat or sleep in, there’s work to be done, and somebody has to do it.  Our lives are full of work to be done and somebody has to do it. Our church is full of work to be done and somebody has to do it.

          Somebody has to teach Sunday School.

          Somebody has to serve and clean up coffee.

          Somebody has to chair the board or the committees.

          Somebody has to usher, organize Harvest Fair booths, sit on Presbytery, fold the bulletins, set up garage sales, make sandwiches, feed the hungry, advocate for the marginalized, save the environment, speak out for justice and bring world peace.

          I remember from as early as high school, taking on projects because I felt they were essential and somebody had to do them. When I was 20 years old, a friend of mine called me BC which stood for Busy Cathy. I constantly overbooked myself because so many things were essential to me.

          Take Christmas, for an example. There are all those traditions that make it such a beautiful time of year. Staying in touch through Christmas cards, the decorations, the lights, the special baking, either travelling to or hosting family and friends. Add that to your regular work and family and community commitments and it can be too much. And yet I don’t want to give up any of it.

          I think if I use my time more efficiently, I can do it all. I’ll get everything done on my list and then I’ll be caught up and life will be perfect. Somewhere, there’s a land that I dream of where my to-do list gets done. People tell me it’s a myth but I hold out hope.

          To be honest, I’m not as busy as the Busy Cathy of my younger days. I’ve learned to be discerning and with age, to let go of things, even if I want to do them or think they’re important, even if that means they’ll fold. I’ve learned that I can’t do it all.  But I still find I’m tired. And I’m not the only one.

          I imagine Martha was tired. I think there are a lot of good people doing good things who are tired. And perhaps they pray, “Lord, can’t you tell my sister or someone to help me with this work, this good work that needs to be done to bring your kingdom on earth.”

          Well, a few weeks ago, I learned a new word that became my new favourite word. And I think it’s the word that Jesus was saying to Martha. That word is “enough”.

          Jesus was saying, “Martha, enough.”

          Jesus was saying:

          “Martha, you’ve done enough. There is enough food. The house is clean enough.”

          “Martha, you are enough. You are a worthy, valued child of God. You do not have to prove anything, or pay back anything by working harder and longer.

          “Martha, I, Jesus am enough. I am all that you need. Trust in God. Seek ye first the kingdom of God and everything that you need will be showered upon you with unimaginable abundance. In fact, look around. It already has been.”

          “Martha, you’ve only got me here for a little while and this life goes very fast and before you know it, it will have passed you by and guess what, Martha? That to-do list is never going to get completed.”

          Enough.

          My new favourite word. It’s the word I need to learn right now. I found this word in a book called “A life of being, having and doing enough” by Wayne Muller who also wrote an earlier book called “Sabbath” about how we need to build a Sabbath day, or day of rest, back into our lives. In his book about enough Muller says, “We have forgotten what enough feels like.”

          Our society is one that never says, “Enough”. It says, “More.” “Buy more, eat more, make more money, renovate more, travel more, text more, email more, watch more on TV, know more.” This more, more, more mantra has thrown off our internal thermostat so that we no longer know what is enough.

          Let’s talk about having enough first. I was visiting a friend in Edmonton and her parents went to tour one of those new homes that are raffled off in a hospital lottery. The house had an entertainment room with a bar and seven TV’s on the walls, I guess to watch 7 different sports or 7 different movies at the same time. The house also had a dog washer, like a mini car wash for a dog. I’d never heard of such a thing. The house was so full of excess; my friend’s father said it felt sinful. I think he’s right. It’s sinful to use up our planet’s resources on “too much” when so many don’t have enough.

          We’re wrecking the planet because we don’t know when to say “enough”.

          How about food in our society? We’ve got so much of it, and the environment and animal damaging factory farms are so efficient, that we can get novelty food like a “Baconator” or KFC‘s “Double Down” which is 2 pieces of fried chicken sandwiching some bacon and cheese. To me, it’s too much. It’s sinful when we don’t remember how precious food is anymore.

          Our “enough” thermostats are off. We don’t know when we have enough house, enough food, enough material goods.

          Let’s talk about doing enough. Wayne Muller says that the good work we are called to do “will never, ever be finished…not by us, not in our lifetime.” The work of caring for each other and the planet is not our work, it is the work.  It was our great grandparents’ work and it will be our great grandchildren’s work. We might never think we’ve made even a dent in all that needs to be done, but that doesn’t mean we should give up and despair or not bother because it’s too overwhelming.  All we can do is work each day with faithfulness and hope and each night say it is enough for one day.

          Everyone is too busy, whether it‘s doing the good work we‘re called to do or busy in the many ways our society tells us we should be busy.  It’s a badge of honour to be so busy. And what about those who due to age or slowed-down abilities or illness can no longer be as busy as they once were. They feel terrible. They feel useless. They no longer feel like they are a contributing member of the community. They feel like a burden.

          I think they’re wrong to feel this way.

          You who can no longer do as much as you used to do, are blessed and a blessing. Jesus didn’t find those who weren’t busy contributing members of society a burden. That’s who he hung out with much of the time. And Jesus said that Mary, who was sitting still and listening to him, chose the right thing.

          This leads me to the third way of enough, and that’s being enough. We are enough. Our life is a gift. We don’t have to work to pay it off. We just have to be grateful. Like the poem by Mary Oliver says,

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.”

What that means to me is we have to listen to our deepest selves, that tell us what we love, what we are, and what we are called to do. That is the spirit of God working in us. That is our enough.

          Finally, God is enough. We don’t need to worry. That’s why we love the 23^rd Psalm. It tells us not to worry, not to fear. It tells us that God is enough. Read the Psalm over again this week and think about enough.

          And what about all the work that needs to be done and somebody has to do it….who’s going to make that nice meal for Jesus if not Martha? What if all the Marthas become Marys. Well, I don’t have the answer for that. But I believe the answer will come.  It will come out of more stillness, more listening and less busyness. And it will be enough.

          Let us pray.

          God, thank you for all that you give us, all that we are, all that you are. Let us know it is enough so we may become instantly generous with whatever we have leftover, that all may have and know enough. In Jesus’ name.

Amen.