"Love's the Reason"

Fun in the Sun

February 22, 2009

Mark 9:2-9

Richard C. Choe ©

Transfiguration

Preached at Kingston Road United Church by the Rev. Richard C. Choe

* * *

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead could mean.

* * *

Love’s the reason.

Q&A is the title of a book by Vikas Swarup, a career Indian diplomat. The book was inspired partly by the story of Harshvardhan Nawathe, a 27 year old to who won ten million rupees – about a quarter million dollars – on September 24, 2000 in India’s version of the American game show, Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

In Q&A Swarup wove a story of an orphan with the realities of Mumbai – one of the most culturally diverse cities where the gap between the rich and the poor is just unimaginable for those of us living in Canada.

Slumdog Millionaire, a simplified and “sanitized” version of the book, is nominated for 10 Oscars, including the best picture category. I will be rooting for Slumdog Millionaire at tonight’s Academy Awards.

Love is the reason why Jamal Malik, an 18 year-old orphan from Mumbai’s Dharavi slum enters the contest in Slumdog Millionaire. Winning the money was not the reason that Jamal entered the game show. He was after a chance to reunite with Latika, his lost love, whom he knew would be watching the show. Jamal wins 20 million rupees – about $500,000 – in the Who Wants to be a Millionaire and reunites with Latika.

I liked the movie. But I kept comparing the movie with the original book. This is one of the challenges in watching a movie version of the book. Regardless of how well the movie is made, it cannot fully capture the complexities and the subtleties of your own imagination of reading a book. I felt that the plotline was too linear and not as complex as the original story. But, how can you tell a whole book in two hours?

Describing church, I think, is akin to describing the relationship between the book and the movie based on the book. What the screen writer does to the book is similar to how we try to express our understanding of faith in relation to the vision of the Jesus movement which began about two thousand years ago. What we do here at KRU, how we practice our faith through worship and our work – how we relate with one another here in this place and with the people around us – are only facets of the vision of God’s community lived out and expressed by Jesus of Nazareth and his followers.

The answers to questions like “Why are you here?” or “What is church?” would be different for each person. For some of us, church means a place where we grew up. It is a place where we and our relatives and friends got baptized, married, and were eulogized in funerals.

For some of us church conjures up feelings of nationalism and pride in being Canadian. Some associate our faith with the memories of prayers and vigils during the war years when we desperately prayed for the safe return of the loved ones. For some church is a place of memories of being consoled and consoling those whose uncles, sisters, husbands, and aunts came back wounded or who did not return, forever lost at the battlefields in Europe and Asia.

There are others for whom church is a place where a lunch is shared on Fridays during the harsh winter months. For some church is a place of warmth and welcoming.

Each of those stories about church, although meaningful and wonderful, does not fully describe being church as Jesus of Nazareth envisioned.

There are “not-so-wonderful” sides of being church. Being made up of human beings, there are disagreements and, at times, dissensions arise amongst us here. There are times when we are not able to show our regard or respect for one another.

Why our reality of being church falls short of the original vision of Jesus of Nazareth is mostly due to our human condition. We are trying to become one but are not there yet.

Like the movie Slumdog Millionaire in comparison to Q&A, the complex original story, the faith that we practice and how we are church in our community at KRU reflects only parts of the original vision of being church espoused by Jesus more than 2000 years ago.

The director of Slumdog Millionaire flashes Latika’s illuminated face at various points of the movie to capture and to express the love between her and Jamal. Latika’s face symbolizes love that represents their childhood. Latika’s face illumines a love that survived poverty, separation, violence, and chaos. It is a love that helped them to survive through moments of hopelessness and eventually healed their wounds. It is a love that represents naiveté and hope in society accentuated by greed and fast changes. Their love for each other eventually gave them courage to boldly move into the future with hope. Pictures, indeed, speak a thousand words.

The story we heard today about transfiguration, or metamorphosis in Greek, also captured the imagination of being church – a community of God’s beloved – for the followers of Jesus of Nazareth. The story was so important that Mark, Matthew, and Luke recorded the event. The story of transfiguration illuminated the understanding of the mission and ministry for the followers of Jesus.

It is a scene where three of Jesus’ disciples witnessed Jesus’ physical body being changed, Jesus conversing with heroes of his faith and cultural community – Moses and Elijah – and heard a voice of God.

Like the illuminated face of Latika representing a thousand facets of love between her and Jamal, the story of transfiguration represents God’s call to us to work toward establishing a community based on God’s love and the struggles of establishing such community.

Like Jesus’ disciples, Peter, James and John, Christian communities struggled with the temptations of “settling down” to build shrines in memory of Jesus. Over the centuries, churches often forgot that Jesus called his disciples to go back down the mountain and share the experience of hearing God’s voice with the rest of the world. The transfiguration story reminds us that the Way of Jesus was a movement to establish a community based on God’s love to the end of the earth.

Churches continue to struggle with the temptation of “settling in” high up at the mountain set apart from the rest of the world at the expense of the mission to feed, heal and free people. Buildings or entitlement of power within church becomes a primary focus when a faith community loses sight of its mission.

The story of transfiguration also reminds us of the times when we “conversed” with ancestors of our faith community, like the way Jesus conversed with Moses and Elijah. “How did you do it, Mom?” “How did you walk through the difficulties of being church when there were divisions and conflict?” “How did you minister together when the membership and resources dwindled?” “How did you deal with the fear of the immense responsibilities of being church?” “How did the leadership emerge faithfully when the congregation needed clarity and direction for its ministry?” “How was God’s presence experienced in your time?”

The transfiguration story also reminds us of how God has illuminated us with love. We remember the times when we were able to embrace ourselves as beloved. Do you remember being in love? Do you remember how you found it impossible to hide the love you were experiencing? Do you remember experiencing God’s presence in times of sorrow and in times of celebration?

As church we are called to feed the hungry, heal the sick and free those who are imprisoned in body as well as in mind and in spirit. That is our primary mission of being the church of Jesus Christ with our body, mind, and spirit.

Each Sunday worship and each act of ministry here and around KRU, we try our best to illumine love of God. We continue to listen for the voice of God within us and amongst us when we gather. We are encouraged by Jesus to go down the mountain, to open ourselves and to serve those in need. And we acknowledge that Jesus’ vision of God’s beloved community is the vision we follow. We also commit ourselves that we will continue to tell that illumination of love throughout our lives. We share the stories of love that invite us to embrace one another as God’s gift. The stories of love that offer hope for all. The stories of love that transform us to become love for all.

Love was the reason Jesus took his disciples up to the mountain. Love was the reason the disciples experienced Jesus’ transformation. Love was the reason they heard God’s voice. And, love was the reason why Jesus and his disciples went down the mountain.

Love is the reason why we are gathered here. Love is the reason why we are challenged by God’s love to open our minds and hearts wide open to embrace our neighbours. Love is the reason why we are continually challenged to be transformed by God’s call to embody and enliven God’s love in our world.

Love is the reason.

Amen.

"Love: Now and Forever"

February 15, 2009
Black History Month

The Sixth Sunday after Epiphany

Preached at Kingston Road United Church by the Rev. Richard C. Choe

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A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.’ Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’ Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, saying to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.’ But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.

* * *

Love. Now and forever.

All of us seek something that can last forever. Anything of value, in our imagination and understanding, is something that lasts forever. Whether it is something tangible, like a diamond, or the love of your life, something that lasts forever is what we search for in life.

We seek things that will last forever perhaps because of our temporal nature of life. As we get older we are more aware of the fact that nothing lasts forever. So, we seek things – tangible and intangible – that could last forever. Look at all the commercials and advertisements. Anywhere from “Built Tough” to “Forever in Blue Jeans” we see the human longing for things that will last a long time.

A leper came to Jesus and begged him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” “If you choose, Jesus, you can heal me from my physical illness that burdens my whole being,” the leper pleaded with Jesus. “If you will, Jesus, you can lift me from the neglect, the isolation, the degradations, and the humiliations I live through each and every day, that has lasted forever,” the leper appealed to Jesus.

Have you ever had such an experience that has burdened your whole being? Where the angry stares of neighbours and strangers seemed to burn into you? Where your presence seemed to bring out the worst in people? When your physicality defined and confined you from being less than your whole self? When the searing pain of existence seemed to last forever?

A few weeks ago my friend, Glenn, and I went to see the movie, Gran Torino. We both like Clint Eastwood. And we both love Ford Gran Torinos, one of the most recognizable cars of our youth from the 1970s TV series, “Starsky & Hutch.” “Zebra Three” was the radio call sign for them as they tore through the streets of “Bay City” in Starsky’s two-door red Ford Gran Torino.

As a movie, Gran Torino has a remarkably diverse ethnicity of people. Each and every ethnic stereotype is pushed to the extreme limit. Walt Kowalski, the main character, played by Clint Eastwood, is a Polish American retired auto worker who lives with the demons of the Korean War. His barber is Italian. They are both macho men who can only talk to each other with offensive name calling and crude jokes. The taxi driver is Sikh. The tailor looks Lebanese.

You see African American youth and Hispanic American youth in the ghetto portrayed as stereotypical thug wannabees. Kowalski’s children and the White working class neighbours have all moved out of the neighbourhood as the Hmong Americans move in. The Hmong youth are no exception – they also form gangs to belong and to defend themselves from other gangs. Everyone seems to be stuck in typical racial-ethnic stereotypes. Everyone seems to be afraid of one another. Everyone seems to have grudges against one another.

Everything changes when Walter Kowalski begins to interact with Thao and his feisty sister, Sue Vang Lor, his Hmong neighbours. The relationship that begins with Thao trying to steal Walt Kowalski’s 1972 Gran Torino, in the end, transforms all three of them. Three strangers from vastly different backgrounds learn to love and embrace one another.

Walt Kowalski is gradually transformed into a loving surrogate father to the two young people. Then, in the end, Kowalski offers his own life for the lives of his Hmong American neighbours. Thao and Sue Vang Lor’s lives are “cleansed” with Kowalski’s ultimate sacrifice.

Walt Kowalski, a grumpy old man living the nightmares of the past, ultimately chooses love – his “now and forever” – and becomes the Christ figure for his neighbours.

“If you choose, you can make me clean,” the leper said to Jesus. “I do choose. Be made clean!” Jesus proclaimed. The leper was healed and cleansed of the illness and became the message – God’s healing love. The leper who thought he was lost from God’s love and compassion was found by Jesus’ healing.

“If you choose, you can become love, now and forever,” Walt Kowalski heard a voice within himself. “I do choose. Let me be the Christ figure for my neighbour and lay my life for them,” was the embodiment of Walt Kowalski’s love for his neighbour. A man who was once lost from his own life and from the lives of his children and his neighbours was found by his new neighbours’ healing presence. He was once blind to his neighbours’ humanity but was able to see how compassion could bring out his humanity even from a tortured past.

The moment of healing became “now and forever” for the leper. He became the message of Jesus’ healing and God’s eternal love for all of us. The moment of self sacrifice of Walt Kowalski became the message of how humanity can leap across the chasm of prejudices and hatred when people reach out to one another with compassion.

As we celebrate “Black History Month” in our worship service, we remember how racial prejudices and hatred have blinded us all from our humanity and God’s compassion. We remember how God’s generous gifts of faith helped peoples of African descent move beyond enslavement, injustice, and degradation to stand tall with dignity.

This is what Rev. James Lawson, known as the “militant non-violent preacher,” wrote as the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee Statement of Purpose on May 14, 1960 during the “Civil Rights” struggles for African Americans and other ethnic minorities in the United Staes.

“Love is the central motif of nonviolence. Love is the force by which God binds humanity to God and with one another. Such love goes to the extreme; it remains loving and forgiving even in the midst of hostility. It matches the capacity of evil to inflict suffering with an even more enduring capacity to absorb evil, all the while persisting in love.” [i]

We acknowledge the continuing angry glares that burn up possibilities of forming genuine relationships with one another. We acknowledge how skin colours continue to define and confine us from cherishing one another as neighbours in this global village. We acknowledge that sticks and stones will break bones and that names do hurt. And that sticks and stones and name callings hurt all of us in the end.

In our remembering of the dis-ease of and segregations of our Black sisters and brothers, we hear the voice of Jesus, “I do choose. Be made clean!” “I do choose. Be made clean of the hatred toward you. You are and you have always been loved by God.”

In our acknowledging of the malady of the continuing racial prejudices and hatred within us and in our society, we hear the voice of the leper, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” “If you choose, Jesus, you can make us clean of the illness of prejudices and hatred within us and within our society.” “If we choose, we can be healed of the malady that blinds us from seeing our neighbours as members of God’s family – our family.”

Love calls us to become the love, now and forever, for our neighbours. Love heals us to become the love, now and forever. Love reminds us to choose love, now and forever.

Amen.

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[i] Rev. James Lawson, The Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee Statement of Purpose, May 14, 1960. http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/USAsncc.htm.

"Saved by Love"

Mark 1:21-28
February 1, 2009
The Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

Preached at Kingston Road United Church by the Rev. Richard C. Choe

* * *

They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.’ But Jesus rebuked him, saying, ‘Be silent, and come out of him!’ And the unclean spirit, throwing him into convulsions and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, ‘What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.’ At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

* * *

Saved by love.

There was a man who had seven different masks. He wore one for each day of the week. He would cover his face immediately as soon as he got up in the morning. He would then get dressed and go to work. He lived without ever showing his true face.

One night, while he was sleeping, a thief stole all his masks. When he woke up and realized what happened, he ran out of the house to look for his masks. His neighbours saw him running up and down the street cursing the world. He spent the entire day looking for the thief and his masks, but to no avail. Desperate and inconsolable, he broke down. No one seemed to be able to comfort his loss.

A woman passing by stopped and asked him, “What’s the matter, my friend? Why are you crying? He looked up and answered, chocking back his tears, “They stole my masks and with my face exposed like this, I feel so vulnerable.” “Take comfort from me,” she said to him, “I have always shown my face from the day I was born.”

He looked at her face for a long time and saw that she was beautiful and confident. The woman bent down, smiled at him and wiped away his tears. For the first time in his life, the man felt the softness of a caress on his face.[i]

Like the man with the seven masks we, too, struggle with a fear of showing who we really are to those around us. “What would people see in me? What if they don’t like what they see in me? What if I don’t measure up to their expectations?” These questions of “what ifs” diminish us and yet we continue to struggle with them. So we show others about what we want others to think we are – the external and superficial things. And for some of us, the masks we wear eventually define and confine our identity.

Growing up for many of us often means learning to cover and hide our true self with masks of what Carl Jung called persona –“the social self resulting from our efforts to conform to the social, moral and educational norms of our milieu.”[ii] The word persona is derived from a Greek word prosopon – meaning the mask actors wore to portray a character.

Our fear of showing our true self also affects the way we see others. Our fears prevent us from seeing others as who they really are. When we carry our preconceived notions and prejudices, we encounter “our projections of what we think people are” rather than their true selves. We project our fears – the things that make us unwell and unbalanced – to those we meet. It is true that we are who we meet – and we meet who we are.

And yet, there is a sense of sadness within us that no one seems to really understand who we really are. We long to connect with our true self and discover who we really are. There is a deep longing in us to be able to see and connect authentically with those we encounter in life.

The Church is no exception in struggling to understand who we really are, who others are, and who God calls us to be as community together. “When you look for it, you will find it.” Dr. Hazel Bigby, one of my mentors, advised me when I was about to intervene in a crisis that was destroying a congregation. She shared her wisdom that there is a tendency for people to project their fears onto those who are in conflict with them. And that individuals experiencing crisis often experience their own fear as the reality of the entire community. Hazel reminded me that a self-fulfilling prophesy stemming from fear was often the primary cause for diminishing congregations and individuals within from being whole.

What diminishes us as a congregation? How do we discern together who God wants us to be as church?

“Be silent, and come out of him!” Jesus commanded an unclean spirit to be silent and to leave the man. Jesus healed the man by emptying him of the unclean spirit that diminished and limited him from being whole. Jesus healed the man by confronting the spirit that prevented him from being whole. Jesus saw beyond the man’s external self. By placing this story as the first public ministry of Jesus, the Gospel writer Mark emphasized that healing – removing things that diminish people from being whole – was the priority of Jesus’ ministry.

For the Gospel writer Mark, to be fully human is to be able to experience authentic connection with God and with one’s neighbours as beloved. To experience life anything less than whole is to experience an unclean spirit within. According to Mark Jesus restored a man on the Sabbath to become whole again by commanding the unclean spirit to leave him. Healing is about restoration. It is about restoring us to reconnect with God and our neighbours as beloved. Healing begins when we are confronted with truth and empties us of feelings and ideas that confine us and disconnect us from God and our neighbours. It is about reconnecting with our true self – the self who is loved and the self who loves. Each healing moment is an experience of God’s presence.

Healing of our relationships – restoration of our relationships – begins when we see who we really are as the beloved of God. Being church together is about experiencing healing and living out our conviction that God loves all of God’s creation. Being church is living out that proclamation in and through our actions.

We gather here to witness and to celebrate the baptism of Abigail Ross Hewitt, a daughter of Tanis and Christopher.

Baptism is an event through which we affirm our belief that Abigail is a beloved child of God and that she, along with all of us here, is called to love herself and the rest God’s creation. It is also a time of God calling us to be rid of the “unclean spirits” within us and put down the masks we wear that block us from being fully human. The baptism of a child is also a time of “remembering” how our face was once bare, uncovered, authentic. It is a moment of remembering to live as fully as God intended us to be.

Reinhold Niebuhr, a theologian, wrote the following words:

Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime;
therefore, we must be saved by hope.
Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense
in any immediate context of history;
therefore, we must be saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone;
Therefore we are saved by love.[iii]

It is with hope that we continue to work together to build a community where we can uncover our true selves. It is with faith that we connect with individuals within our faith community to become whole together. It is with love that we extend our hands with individuals and communities in our neighbourhood and the rest of God’s beloved in building a world that cherishes everyone as beloved.

We are indeed saved by love that uncovers us. We are indeed saved by love that heals and restores us as we encounter people soul to soul. May we continue to be saved by hope, faith and love.
Amen.

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[i] John Monbourquette, How to Befriend Your Shadow: Welcoming Your Unloved Side (Ottawa: Novalis, 2001), 36.
[ii] John Monbourquette, How to Befriend Your Shadow, 37.
[iii] Reinhold Neibuhr, The Irony of American History in Sam M. Intrator & Megan Scribner, eds., Leading from within: Poetry That Sustains the Courage to Lead (San Francisco: A Wiley Imprint, 2007), 15.

"Conversion: Living into Hope”

Act 9:1-20

January 25, 2009
The Third Sunday after Epiphany

Preached at Kingston Road United Church by the Rev. Richard C. Choe

* * *

9Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest 2and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. 3Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. 4He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” 5He asked, “Who are you, Lord?” The reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. 6But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do.” 7The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. 8Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. 9For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.
10Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, “Ananias.” He answered, “Here I am, Lord.” 11The Lord said to him, “Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying, 12and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight.” 13But Ananias answered, “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; 14and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.” 15But the Lord said to him, “Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; 16I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” 17So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” 18And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored. Then he got up and was baptized, 19and after taking some food, he regained his strength. For several days he was with the disciples in Damascus, 20and immediately he began to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues, saying, “He is the Son of God.”

* * *

"Broken Open"

Mark 1:4-11

January 11, 2009
The First Sunday after Epiphany – The Baptism of the Lord

Preached at Kingston Road United Church by the Rev. Richard C. Choe

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4John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 7He proclaimed, ‘The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. 8I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.’

9 In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’

* * *

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Mary Oliver, a poet, asks us the question in her poem, The Summer Day: “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Well, I spent my one wild and precious day at a Spa last Monday. Kim gave me a gift certificate for a “Gentleman’s Timeout” for my birthday in 2007. The brochure stated that it was for “an Aroma Anti-Stress Massage, a Gentleman’s Facial and an Intensive Spa Pedicure.” It took me over a year to make an appointment. And with some trepidation I finally entered the Spa on Monday.

For three hours, I was thoroughly kneaded, plucked, and filed to be beautified. At one point, right after my face was plucked; I said to the beautician that I now have more respect for women and men who take care of themselves diligently. “Beauty is pain” was the reply. I nodded to her in agreement as I was wincing from the pain. The beauty treatment may not show well on my face but I can tell you how soft the soles of my feet are. “Like night and day” was Kim’s remark.

These are some of the thoughts that whizzed by me as I was being kneaded, plucked, filed and beautified.

· I was glad that I did not have any knotted muscles. Knotted muscles would have meant more pain.
· I was amazed at the kind of high-tech machines at the Spa, such as the high frequency tool the beautician used on my face. It sparked! I realized that science was not only sending people to outer space but also helping us to look good on earth.
· And, I had no idea I was carrying so many dead cells! (At least a pound’s worth.)

I am not sure whether I would be volunteering myself to another beauty session in the near future; however, my smooth feet remind me of what is possible when I actually offer myself to be cared for. The whole experience was like being awaken to a realization that I had a body. And that it wants to be cared for and tended to. It was as though the Spa experience broke open my body to a new way of being.

On one summer day of his life, Jesus waded into the River Jordan, moved toward John the Baptizer, was pushed deeply into the water, and experienced his whole being broken open to the Spirit of God as he emerged from the water. That’s how the Gospel writer Mark opens his Gospel – the earliest one of the four Gospels in the Greek Testament.

Mark does not mention any stories of Jesus’ physical birth. There is no miraculous story of virgin birth. No animals in the manger. No Star and no Magi. Nothing about where and how Jesus was born. For Mark, it is the baptism of Jesus – the experience of the conversion of Jesus – that marks the beginning of Jesus of Nazareth of Galilee whom he proclaims as the Son of Man, who is the Son of God.

For Mark it was the spiritual birth of Jesus that was the beginning. It was the baptism – a ritual that signifies one’s death from the ordinary life (once born) into a renewed life (twice born) – that marked the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.

In the summer of his life, Jesus of Nazareth of Galilee hears the question of his life from a fiery preacher named John the Baptizer: “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” Jesus’ first response to the question was to surrender himself to God.

In our time surrender is understood as a sign of defeat. It is a sign of weakness. It is something you have to do when you have no choice left. It is inconceivable that anyone would voluntarily surrender to anything these days. It conjures up images of humiliation. “Surrendering is for losers” is the message we often hear in our society. “Never Surrender!” is a war cry even in the peace time.

To be strong, to be tough, is what we desire in life. To be strong is to be independent. Being strong – like being healthy and wealthy – is the message we want to convey to others. Being abundant – to have much and to have more stuff – is the sign of being strong.

Surrendering things we possess, letting go of things we have, is not easy for us. I often said to myself whenever I was packing for a move that I had no idea how much “junk” I had accumulated. Something within us drives us to relentlessly acquire and accumulate.

I read a story of a dictator who had a house in every major city in his country. He also had twelve limousines, largely unused. He liked to look at them from his balcony. In the end, he died at the age of fifty after being shot during a military coup d’état.[i] It sounded so absurd that anyone could live in such extravagance while most of people in his country were eating one meal a day if they were able to afford it. But such displays of lavishness do not only happen in faraway places. Think about the displays of excess and cupidity in our country.

Look at the countless homeless people sleeping in the streets of Toronto under the gigantic TV screens that are lit up by the spectre of products being pushed as signs of wellbeing. I just read an article about Igor Kenk who is accused of being a thief and hoarder of more than 2,700 used and stolen bicycles in Toronto.[ii] Kenk may be an extreme example of cupidity in our society. Then, I realized my own lust for shoes.

My friend, Glenn, used to have a big sign in his office: “The one who dies with the most toys wins!” Although he meant it as a satire on materialism, some read the sign as an encouragement. Well, you are what you read.

If surrendering wealth and material things are difficult, surrendering things within oneself to a higher power or letting go of self to God seems impossible. Letting go of anger, resentment, pain – things you carry within you that have been damaging you and will ultimately destroy your wellbeing – is so much harder than letting go of the physical things. It is a struggle to let go of the emotions and stuff within us even when we know that carrying them are damaging our being and our relationships with others. But there are things we are totally unaware. Ignorance is not bliss when it comes to our wellbeing – both physically and spiritually.

How do we let go of the things within us that harm us? How do we break ourselves open to a different way of being?

Richard Wagamese shares his experience of conversion in his newspaper column, One Native Life, in Calgary Herald. Wagamese writes that the anger resulting from the legacy of the Indian Residential Schools drove him for a long time. When he was in his late 40s he realised how much that anger had hurt him. He had had enough. And he searched for ways to let the anger go.

This is how he describes his letting go:

“One day, I walked into a United Church and forced myself to listen. It was hard and I wanted to leave, but there’s a sense you get when the big events of your life are unfolding and I sat there. …
The minister spoke … I heard compassion in his voice. There was no inferred superiority, no judgement, liturgy or doctrine. Instead, I heard the very human struggle to be spiritual in a hard world.
I went back to that church for weeks. The message I heard was all about humanity, the search for innocence, comfort and belonging. There was nothing in the message that was not about healing. I heard compassion talked about, love, kindness, trust, courage, truth, loyalty and an abiding faith that there’s a God, a Creator taking care of all of us. With my eyes closed, there was no white, no Indian, no difference at all and exactly when my anger disappeared I do not know.
That church changed my life. … Healing happens if you want it bad enough. … Every spiritually enhancing experience asks a sacrifice of us and in this, the price of admission is a keen desire to be rid of the block of anger.”[iii]

Baptism was the event through which Jesus was broken open to the Spirit of God. The ritual of baptism signifies a keen desire to let go of a life centred on oneself and a transformative move into a life centred on one’s relationship with God, with one’s neighbours. It is about letting go of control of self focused on wants and desires of oneself. It is about healing oneself by consciously becoming part of the whole – becoming an integral part of God and the rest of God’s creation and letting them become part of you.

When Jesus waded into the River Jordan and was baptized by John the Baptizer, Jesus was broken open to the Spirit of God. In his letting go of the self Jesus experienced God with him – God in him, God around him, and being in God. And through this experience of letting go and being broken open Jesus himself became the sign of God with us, Emmanuel, for Mark and the rest of the followers.

The baptism of Jesus, the spiritual awakening of experiencing God’s immediate nearness, became the point of beginning for the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth. In and through his experience of baptism, Jesus experienced God as near and fully present, not far and beyond reach. Baptism – a symbol of emptying of self and surrendering self to God – was the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry that culminated in emptying of self on the cross.

Mark expresses it this way:

“And just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’” [Mark 1:10-11]

Author Michaela Bruzzese cites James Cone, an African American theologian, in her reflection on today’s passage – “Jesus embraces the condition of sinners, affirming their existence as his own.” And she writes, “Those brave enough to journey to the wilderness to seek salvation find it waiting for them in the form of Jesus – who walks with them.”[iv] The experience of baptism for Jesus was the experience of being one with God, his neighbours and the rest of the creation.

Our life journey is full of parched experiences in the desert and sudden turns in the night. There are times when we wonder whether we will make it to the end or when we fear that our end may come too soon. There are times when life seems to be one long solitary walk through the wilderness. In those unsettling times, we are often tempted to look to quick fixes of material things to fill our sense of emptiness or to numb our spiritual longings with drugs of our choice.

The story of Jesus’ baptism reminds us that our life truly and fully begins when we surrender ourselves to be broken open to the Spirit of God. No “Gentleman’s Timeout” or “Spa Retreat” in itself will really satisfy our longing for healing within us. No amount of outward beatification of our physical selves will genuinely fill the spiritual hunger deep within us.

What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? How do you journey to the wilderness and be broken open to God’s Spirit?

After experiencing painful upheavals in her life and experiencing a sense of transformation through her healing journey, Elizabeth Lesser wrote a book to share her insights and the wisdom of those she met in her healing journey. “Will we be broken down and defeated, or broken open and transformed?” was the question she grappled with in her book, Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow. Lesser noted how ironic it is “that the difficult times (that) we fear might ruin us are the very ones that can break us open and help us blossom into who we were meant to be. … It was only through turning around and facing (her) shadow that (she) was able to break open into a more genuine and generous life.”[v] Healing, for Lesser, is a process of rising out of the ashes of a former self and into a new way of being. Healing is about going deep within oneself.

When we take a risk to venture deep within us and face our own shadows – when we truly surrender ourselves to God – we will find ourselves broken open for the Spirit of God to enter us, to heal and to fill us. When we dare to surrender to God we will hear God’s voice of love for us. When we are open to the Spirit of God, we will relate and connect with the whole of God’s creation with a renewed life and energy.

Each day is a new day to be broken open to God’s healing. Each moment in life is an opportunity for us to experience and share God’s love. Each encounter with our neighbours is an opening to reconnect with all our relations in creation.

May God bless us a life that is wild and precious. May we be open to transformation and healing in our journey. Because with each and every one of us, God is well pleased.

Amen.

--
[i] Ryszard Kapuściński, Trans. by Klara Glowczewska, The Shadow of the Sun (New York: Vintage Books, 2002), 105-6.
[ii] Anthony Reinhart, Bike theft suspect back behind bars, The Globe and Mail, Tuesday, December 16, 2008, A11.
[iii] Richard Wagamese, Embracing forgiveness, Calgary Herald, Sunday, August 3, 2008, A9.
[iv] Michaela Bruzzese, Living the Word: Reflections on the Revised Common Lectionary, Cycle B – January 11: Water and Fire, Sojourners, January 2009, 48.
[v] Elizabeth Lesser, Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow (New York: Villard Books, 2005), xix-xx.

“The Other”

Matthew 2:1-12

January 4, 2009
Epiphany

Preached at Kingston Road United Church by the Rev. Richard C. Choe
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In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

“And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.” ’

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

* * *

Wise men. The Other. The one who is outside of the familiarity of our experiences. The one who is defined by the unknown and foreignness from us.

Judea under the Roman military occupation was a harsh place to live for the local inhabitants. Other than those who were part of the political and religious systems of power, life in Judea was a life under siege, a life of poverty and threat. There was a palpable sense of fear and hatred against foreigners, especially those who represented the Roman Empire. There was a sense of a clear and present danger experienced by all colonials living under the Roman military might. The history of the people of Israel, after all, was a continuing saga of military defeats, revolts against the foreign occupying army, and mass exiles. Fear of the Other, for those in Judea in Mary’s time, was deeply rooted in their life and the lives of their ancestors.

It is difficult to trust strangers and foreigners when much of your life and much of your nation’s history of relating with foreigners resulted in conflicts, war, and subjugation. Why would you welcome strangers when you are afraid? Thus, King Herod was “frightened, and all Jerusalem with him” when they heard of the news of the new born king of the Jews. An impending Roman Emperor’s edict to replace Herod? A possible coup d’état? Images of violence and mayhem pierced through the imaginations of the inhabitants of Jerusalem.

Fear was the primary response at the news of the birth of Jesus in Jerusalem – a city that was the centre of the religious and the political universe of the people of Israel. Offerings of gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh was the response from those from the East, those considered the Other, who recognized the child Jesus as a “ruler who is to shepherd people of Israel.”

Fear of “the Other,” is not unique to our time. Xenophobia – fear of those from other nations – seems to be a constant in human history. Current attacks on Palestinians in the Gaza Strip by the Israeli military and the counter attacks on Israel by the Palestinians is current example of fear of the Other. Another example of an extreme form of Xenophobia is the genocide in Rwanda in 1994 where close to 1 million Tutsis were murdered by Hutu militia.

Racial cleansing and genocide – atrocities stemming from fear of the Other – do not usually happen between two ethnically unrelated groups living far away from each other.
Underlying the differences and accentuating the otherness of one’s neighbours often results in violence and war. What is really sad and ironic is that the neighbours who label each other as the Other often share more in common than differences. Emphasizing the Otherness often happens between two racial ethnic groups who share very close, if not the identical, racial ethnic heritage and homeland.

Palestinians and Israelis, most of them, are closely related to one another in terms of ethnicity. Tutsis and Hutus have been intermingling for more than 600 years and the physical differences of the two groups are more arbitrary than scientific. And yet, there seems to be no end to violence based on the fear of the Other in the world when in fact those we often level as the Other are our neighbours and blood relations.

Seen through the lens of fear, the whole earth is inhabited by the Other for one to be afraid of and to despise. Seen through the lens of fear, the entire earth community is nothing but a wasteland where everyone experiences being a stranger in a strange land.

My first real experience of the Other was when I moved in 1967 from a city to a small village near a de-militarized zone that divides Korea into two nations. Although I was used to moves as a child of a military officer, it was the first time I was conscious of heartache in saying “good-bye” to my friends and classmates. I was 7 years old. By then I was getting used to living in the same place for more than three years and having friends. I was getting used to my neighbourhood – the streets, houses and stores along the way to school. And then we moved.

It was the first time I understood what geographical distance meant. Besides the heartache of losing friends, moving from the urban capital city of Seoul to a remote village in the countryside was a shock. The small village was made up of farmers. The entire population of the town was less than 100.

My new home – a house with mud walls and a thatched roof – was in a village that was surrounded by rice paddies and mountains. There was no electricity outside the army base. No neon signs. No brick houses. No buildings higher than a storey tall. No pavement and no asphalt covered streets. There were no cars other than military vehicles and buses that came once or twice a day depending on the conditions of the buses. People walked or rode on a cart pulled by a cow.

Farming was done manually using wooden ploughs tied to cows. A very selected few folks in the village used small tractors they pushed with hands. There was, I think, a market set up once or a twice a month. And once a year, after harvest time, a theatre company will come to town and set up the moving pictures inside a large tent. Night meant the Milky Way strewn in the sky. Day meant experiencing nature at its natural state transformed by just a bit by farming.

I was a stranger in a strange land. I was an outsider – a city kid of an army officer. I was a stranger to my school mates as they were to me. It was my first real conscious experience of being the Other. It was the first time in my life experiencing being with people in close proximity and yet not really feeling part of their life or community.

Gospel writer Matthew recorded that it was the strangers, foreigners from the East of Judea, who searched out and paid homage to the child Jesus as the King of Jews. This is a story from their experience of the Other. It was these wise ones from afar who recognized Jesus as the King of Jews and joyfully offered gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. It was the Other who were messengers of the good tidings that the Messiah, a ruler who will shepherd people of Israel, was born as Mary’s child Jesus in Bethlehem.

People of Israel experienced how God often chose strangers and foreigners as messengers to help them. Rahab was a foreigner who recognized God of Israel as the God and helped Joshua and his people to “settle” in Canaan – the land they believed God promised to their ancestors. King of Cyrus of Persia – Cyrus the Great – was another whose spirit God “stirred up so he sent a herald throughout all his kingdom” to declare the end of the Babylonian captivity of the people of Israel. [Ezra 1:1-4]

People of Judea in Mary and Jesus’ time understood that foreigners and strangers, the Other, were often messengers and actors of God’s salvation. They understood that God also called prophets and leaders outside their own racial ethnic communities. They understood that God’s salvation transcends narrowly defined racial ethnic boundaries.

The wise ones from the East, people who were the Other, followed the star and found the Messiah in the child Jesus, while those in Jerusalem, those who were Jesus’ kinfolk, were trembling in fear of the news of his birth.

A collection of reflections of Ryszard Kapuściński, a celebrated foreign correspondent for the Polish Press Agency, recently published a book entitled The Other. Kapuściński shares his insights on the Other garnered from a lifetime of travel and encounters as a journalist with people in Africa, Asia and Latin Africa.

There are three things Kapuściński shared on Herodotus – a Greek historian in the 5th century who is regarded as the “Father of History” – that captured my attention:

“All people are different and it’s natural that each (cultural group of) people to think its own ways are best.”[i]

“Herodotus wanted to know (the Others) because he understood that to know ourselves we have to know Others, who act as the mirror in which we see ourselves reflected; he knew that to understand ourselves better we have to understand Others, to compare ourselves with them, to measure ourselves against them.” [ii]

“Xenophobia, Herodotus implied, is a sickness of people who are scared, suffering an inferiority complex, terrified by the prospect of seeing themselves in the mirror of the culture of Others.”[iii]

Kapuściński’s ideas are strongly influenced by Emmanuel Lévinas, a French philosopher, whose experience as a Jew in Eastern Europe and later in France heavily influenced his philosophy that “The self is only possible through the recognition of the Other.”[iv] Kapuściński asserts that “‘genuine’ individualism – the recognition of selfhood – can only be brought about by contact with and recognition of the Other, the being who is external to oneself and yet a reflection of oneself.”[v] For him, knowing oneself comes from knowing the Other.

A faith community is no exception to Herodotean assessment: that each community is different and that each community thinks its own ways are best. There is a strong tendency to act out a belief that one’s own faith group or a congregation is the best. I often found it strange that a faith group – a community that is formed for nurturing transformation – is often the most resistant group to change itself. It is also painful to see people around the global communities use religious beliefs as weapons to label their neighbours as the Other and wage war with one another rather than seeking to find commonalities so all can live in harmony.

Wise men left their home – a familiar place and a place of belonging – to search for the Messiah. They answered the call from God and followed the star of their passion and found the place of homage and of God’s presence. Perhaps those wise men were wise because of the risk they took to seek the Promised One by leaving everything that was familiar to them.

I wonder what that homage would mean for those of us here. How would we seek and search for God’s presence in our neighbourhood? Or in another land? How would we recognize Jesus in our life?

What about Mary? How do we learn to be like Mary whose faith and wisdom helped her to receive and accept the gifts of wise ones from the East – strangers and foreigners – who proclaimed her child as the Messiah? How do we recognize the gifts of strangers – gifts of the Other – who help us to fully know who we are in our encounters and interactions with them? How do we learn to receive from the neighbours we encounter in our ministry together?

It is not too often we get to experience deep connections with those we encounter in life. Perhaps it is because we are too afraid of strangers. Perhaps it is because we are too afraid of seeing who we might be in the eyes of the others. Perhaps it is because we do not really believe that we can connect with others and be heard.

I met many people throughout my life. My encounters with people in the remote village in South Korea helped me to understand my relation to nature and the beauty of God’s creation. My encounters with people of different faith communities helped me to deepen and widen my understanding and experience of God. My encounters with strangers who became my friends helped me to nurture empathy, compassion and belonging. But those I felt the deepest connections to were the ones who treated me with kindness and compassion; who helped me to see who I am by opening themselves to me; connections where I experienced knowing that I was understood. These are the connections that nurtured me as a human being and a fellow sojourner in God’s Creation.

The story of the wise men from the East and their encounter with Mary and her child Jesus tells of how God’s grace transcends the lines that divide human community into groups of the Other. The story of the encounter helps us to understand how our daily encounters could help us know more about who we are in relation to God and to our neighbours. It is about deep connections amongst strangers who became part of God’s community through their encounters.

May we continue to seek out the Other and discover who we are. May we be the Other and be the mirror to those searching for God’s presence.

Amen.

--
[i] Ryszard Kapuściński, Intro. By Neal Ascherson, The Other (London: Verso, 2008), 4.
[ii] The Other, 19.
[iii] The Other, 19.
[iv] The Other, 4-5.
[v] The Other, 8.

“Blessings for the journey”

Richard C. Choe©

Luke 2:22-40

December 28, 2008
First Sunday After Christmas

* * *

Preached at Kingston Road United Church by the Rev. Richard C. Choe

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When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.” Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.” And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favour of God was upon him.

* * *

Blessings for the journey.

“Baek-il” – “One Hundredth Day” – is a celebration marking a child’s “coming out” party in Korea. When a child reaches one hundredth day after birth, a family celebrates by inviting neighbours and relations into the house for a party.

One hundred is an auspicious number for Koreans. Many infants and mothers did not survive birthing in Korea in the olden days. Ninety-nine days were lived in prayer for the well-being of the infant and the recovery of the mother’s health. A child’s household was virtually quarantined for the first 99 days of the child’s life for fear of transmitting diseases.

The ancient Koreans believed that surviving the first ninety-nine days was a sign that the child had overcome the trauma of birthing and would be strong enough to fight off diseases. It was also understood that a mother’s body requires that much time to heal if she survived giving birth.

On the one hundredth day of the child’s birth, a house would be open to the neighbours and relations so they could visit and share the joy of the arrival of the child into the family and the community. One of the traditions in the celebration was to make rice cakes and share them with neighbours and anyone who happened to be passing by the house. Often, grandmothers of the infant would share a piece of a rice cake with passersby at the gate of the house and invite them in to bless their grandchild. Ancient Koreans believed that sharing the celebration of child’s birth with the rest of their community was a way of seeking blessing for the child and the child’s place in the community. The practice was rooted in belief that happiness is multiplied when shared and that an individual is an instrument of God’s blessing to one another in community.

The tradition of “Baek-il” continues in Korean families. Koreans may not open their house to all the passersby, but the tradition of sharing happiness on the one hundredth day of the child’s birth with neighbours continue to this day. Joys and happiness, indeed, multiply when shared.

The ancient Jews also had a “coming out” party for children as well. We heard this morning from the passages in the Gospel According to Luke about the “coming out” celebration of a child named Jesus, the son of Mary and Joseph.

Jesus was presented to God along with the sacrifice offering of “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.” Mary and Joseph brought their first born according to Jewish custom where the first to be born is considered “sacred and presented to the Lord because that child opened the womb so that other children may also take their turn in being born.”[i]

Even from a distance people would have seen that Mary’s family was of modest means by the offering the family brought for sacrifice. A more prosperous family would have brought a lamb – an animal that was required for the ritual sacrifice of atonement. The child Jesus was blessed by two aged worshippers, ordinary folks, at the peripheral part of the temple where women were allowed.

The gospel writer, Luke, stressed the lowly and marginal nature of Jesus of Nazareth as he recounted Jesus’ birth and his life. Jesus, a child of a low social and religious status, was recognized by those who were also of low social and religious status. Jesus was recognized as “a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to people of Israel” and as “the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem” even when he came from a family of low socio-economic status. It was not one of the priests or the chief priest in the temple of Jerusalem who recognized Jesus as the “One-Waited-for” but two less important but devout worshippers of the temple.

Like the time of Mary and Jesus we live in a society where we value blessings of others, and yet find it difficult to feel blessed. And like the time of Mary and Jesus, we live in a society where those who have more than others are seen to be blessed more than those who have less.

In our society where the signs of material blessings are so abundantly visible, we continue to search for the meaning of blessing – blessing of each of us as one to be cherished, nurtured, cared for, accepted as one to be loved. In a society that seems to be filled with folks driven for “success,” we continue to struggle with the voices of a “critical parent” within us that tell us that we are not good enough or that we will not amount to anybody of importance in our life. Those who hear and accept the message of the “critical parent” will eventually act out to show others that they are indeed not worthy. There is also a good chance that an adult carrying a “critical parent” within will become a “critical” mother or a father oneself to their children and even to those they encounter in their life. Those who do not experience blessing often do not live blessed lives.

How would you describe or define “blessing” in your life? Do you “count your blessings?” Do you seek blessing from others? Do you see yourself as a blessing to those you encounter in your life?

Thrity Umrigar, an American author, shares one of the most enduring and beloved Parsi legend.

A small group of Zoroastrians land on the shores of India after fleeing religious persecution in their homeland of Iran. They seek political refuge. The local Hindu ruler is wary of the foreigners and does not want to grant them entry. They do not speak a common language so the local Hindu ruler takes an empty glass and fills it to the brim with milk. The symbolism is clearly communicated to the refugees. “This land is full and cannot accommodate newcomers.” But the Zoroastrian priest is a wise man. He takes sugar and drops it into the glass and dissolves it in the milk, careful not to spill a drop. His message is also clearly communicated. “If you let us stay, we will sweeten your local culture, without displacing or disrupting it. Thus, the Zoroastrians – or Parsis, as they came to be called – find a home in India and true to their word, became a model community, their contributions enhancing the culture of their new homeland. [ii]

The Parsi story tells us of the wisdom of the priest as well as the Hindu ruler. They both were able to clearly communicate what they saw as a reality – that there was no room for them and that they came with gifts. They both were able to clearly see what they saw as a possibility – that new ways of being was possible and that they could co-exist as neighbours. The wisdom of the leaders provided new possibilities of being in community.

The Ojibway say that there are seven hills to life. Each hill is a vantage point for looking back, thought not everyone takes the time for reflection. It is only in looking back, the Ojibway say, that you discern the trail, identify the climb and rest contented in each stage of the journey. The final hill is the elevation of wisdom. It is from there you can look back on the vast panorama of your life and come to know who you are by virtue of who you’ve been.[iii]

In a land where the value of the life of a child from a poor peasant family was worth next to nothing, two elders, Simeon and Anna, were able to see a child of blessing and blessed Jesus’ life journey. In a time when hope seemed to have disappeared and God seemed to have forgotten the plight of the oppressed people of Israel, God blessed Simeon and Anna to see the coming of the “One-Waited-for,” the Messiah. From the vantage point of the seventh hill in life, Simeon and Anna came to know who they were – the ones who were blessed to recognize the coming of Messiah. From all the places they have been in life they were blessed with wisdom to recognize the Messiah in an ordinary child. And to recognize their part in blessing the Messiah for his life’s journey. The ones blessed both received and shared blessings.

We, as a congregation, have celebrated 100th year of ministry in this neighbourhood and beyond. We have heard stories of challenges and growth, we have remembered the times of pain as well as joys we have experienced together. We have looked back and realized that our community has never been perfect or that we have always been in the right. What we saw from the vantage point of this 100th year was how we were able to grow and transform together as we experienced each phase of growth as community.

Our children, through their participation in the Nativity Play, reminded us of our childhood and the times gone by – the times of innocence, the times of youthfulness, the times of wonder and discovery along with growing pains about life, death and resurrection. Nothing stays the same in life. People grow old. Relationships grow, change, at times, break apart and heal. There are joys in life as well as grief.

Our geographic location may not have changed but our contexts of ministry – our neighbourhood – has changed and will continue to change. Neighbourhoods change. Familiar neighbours move out and strangers move in and become neighbours. Along with those changes, the membership of our congregation changes as well. Looking back helps us to realize that we, too, will continue to adapt, change and find new and different ways to continue the ministry of Jesus Christ in this neighbourhood and beyond.

Seeing our children on the Christmas Eve family service was a vantage point of looking back for me. I saw our children growing in faith and maturity. I was saying to some of the parents that some of the angels dressed in white looked more like brides than children dressed as angels. Watching the play also reminded me of how God opens our eyes to see each and every child as blessing to our faith community. Watching our children also reminded me that each one of us is a blessing to our community if we choose to take that blessing seriously. Our life affects the lives of those we encounter. Like the way God called and blessed Simeon and Anna to recognize a child from a poor peasant family from Nazareth as the Messiah, God continues to call and bless us to recognize blessing in those we meet in our life.

Each child is blessed. Each child, regardless of social or religious status, is blessed was the message Jesus and his family experienced from the actions of Simeon and Anna. Each child, each life, is a blessing for every community.

I lived with my grandparents for a while when I was about 9 years old, a time when I was really fascinated by spy and espionage stories. I invented a cryptic alphabet to communicate with my friends and carried a membership card made with rubber stamps for a spy organization I invented. One of the things we used to do was to “train” ourselves by daring one another to jump over the open sewer in the neighbourhood. Each night I would return home dirty with a ripped shirt. One day my grandfather confronted me with the “evidence” of what he believed to be my involvement with a neighbourhood gang – my membership card of my imaginary spy organization. He thought I had joined a gang and was involved in something illegal. It took a quite a bit of time for me to explain to him that the spy organization was created out of my imagination. The filthy pants were due to failed attempts to jump across the open sewers. And shirts got ripped when my friends tried to grab me from slipping into the sewer after landing.

My grandparents used to laugh about that time whenever they reminisced about the time I lived with them. A time when they thought that their grandson, a model student, had gone astray and joined a gang.

Children grow, change, and show us of the blessings of change and growth. There are those who are able to see God’s child in each person. My grandparents saw a blessed child in me and they blessed me with stories of wonder and an unconditional love that helped me to know that I am loved forever. If we choose, like Anna and Simeon, we, too, could be a blessing to those we encounter.

As we journey towards the New Year may the Apache Nation blessing go with you:

May the sun
Bring you new energy by day,
May the moon
Softly restore you by night,
May the rain
Wash away your worries,
May the breeze
Blow new strength into your being.
May you walk
Gently through the world and know
Its beauty all the days of your life.

Happy New Year everyone!

Happy 101st year of ministry!

Amen.

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[i] http://liturgy.slu.edu/HolyFamilyB122808/theword_gillick.html
[ii]Thrity Umrigar, Harper Collins, http://www.harpercollins.com/author/authorExtra.aspx?authorID=29280&isbn13=9780061240232&displyType=bookessay
[iii] Richard Wagamese, One Native Life (Vancouver: Douglas & McIntyre Ltd., 2008), 168.