Sunday, October 17, 2021

Comfort in Our Digital Diaspora

Lutheran Church of our Saviour - Calgary - Hebrews 4:14-5:10

So this reading from the Letter to the Hebrews is a bit odd, isn’t it? It’s not one we really preach on a lot, or even hear read in church very much. It’s hard for us to relate to, I think. This talk of Christ as the high priest, and offering sacrifices - it doesn’t really resonate with our experiences of Jesus or our understandings of Communion, unless our church backgrounds include the Catholic or Anglican churches.

But this letter was written during a time of deep distress and trauma that has something in common with what we’re going through today in the world with COVID. And it offers us some hope, too, so I thought maybe today we could look at it a little more closely and explore the good news and comfort that God has for us today.
So. During the time of Jesus and his disciples––even earlier than that, actually––there was this understanding that the Spirit of God - which in Hebrew is called the Shekinah - dwelled in the Temple in Jerusalem. This is why the Temple was so central to the religious life of Jews during Jesus’ time, and why everyone went there. Maybe you remember the story of Mary and Joseph taking Jesus there as a baby, and then going there when he was 12 and he stayed there and they thought he was lost? And of course we have other stories of Jesus and his disciples going to the Temple, for various religious events. That’s because the Temple was where the Shekinah was, and so that’s where people went to connect with God and with one another as God’s community. Every Jew, including Jesus, felt that as long as the Temple was standing, they were assured of God’s presence amongst the people of Israel, no matter where they were living. (And you might remember the story of Jesus going into the Temple and overturning the money changers’ tables, and that’s because he was upset about how the Temple was being exploited, not upset that it was actually there.)

So, the Temple is central for the religious life of Jews, and then, in 70 CE, about forty years after Jesus’ death and resurrection, around the time when the Gospels and the various letters in the New Testament were being written, the Roman legions occupying Jerusalem burnt it to the ground. And by it, I mean the whole city, and the Temple. That’s the reason there’s actually no Temple in Jerusalem anymore. The Romans sacked the city, and the Temple fell. If you can imagine a city on fire, and the streets running with blood, and people screaming and fleeing for the hills, and total chaos––that was Jerusalem.

Obviously this was a huge trauma for the people. Their homes were gone, families were separated and killed, as bad as you can imagine. But even worse, and here’s where maybe we can begin to relate, is that the house of God, the dwelling place of the Spirit of God, was destroyed. Maybe you remember seeing the roof of the Notre Dame on fire, just two years ago? Or maybe you yourself have seen a church burn down? It’s an awful feeling, to see a house of worship burn to the ground. Now imagine that this is the house of worship for an entire people. There is no other. This is it. And now it’s gone. When the Temple was destroyed, it was as if God had left. I mean, where would the Spirit of God dwell if there was no dwelling place? The Jews all of a sudden found themselves spiritually homeless. They couldn’t go to the Temple to worship, they couldn’t go to gather with their families before God, they couldn’t engage in the rituals that helped them feel closer to God. They felt thrown into the wilderness. They were dispersed - the word we use to describe it is diaspora. After the Temple fell, the Jews, including Jesus’ followers, including Paul, were in a diaspora.

We, Christians, have spent the last year and a half in a similar diaspora. Ever since the COVID shutdowns of late March 2020, we have experienced being cut off from our gathering places of worship and dispersed. We have not been able to gather together to worship God like we are used to, to be with our families in sacred spaces. The last two Easters were online, if that, for everyone. There were no physical Easter services. Barely any physical Christmas services. We have been in a COVID diaspora. Spread out across distances, unable to gather. I believe that this will be a time of trauma that will have a lingering impact on Christians for years, similar to the way the destruction of the Temple impacted the Jews and Christian Jews. We have struggled to find new ways to be together, just as Jews struggled in their diaspora. We struggle to figure out what it means to be God’s community when we can’t actually be with one another. We struggle to understand how God can be with us “online” and not in a building. It has been hard. It’s been lonely, and depleting, and exhausting. And particularly challenging because every time we think we finally can get back together again, just like before, there’s another setback. Another wave of cases. A new variant to adjust to. We want to know, when will this end? When can we go back to normal? When can we be together again? Where is God??

This was the struggle of the Jews in the diaspora, of Paul and the first disciples, of the early church community (because remember, they were Jews who followed Christ). And what we see in the letter to the Hebrews, and in this passage about Jesus as the great high priest, and Jesus as the one who sympathizes with our weakness, and gives us mercy and grace, and deals gently with us, is the beginning of an answer to the struggle of how to be together while in a diaspora.

For those early Christian Jews, wondering where the Spirit of God was when the Temple had been destroyed, they began to realize that the Spirit of God had come to rest in Jesus. That Jesus was the dwelling place of God. And, because Jesus had ascended into heaven, that Jesus had extended himself as the dwelling place of God to the whole Christian family. That is why the church is called the body of Christ––this body, this body of Christians, is now the dwelling place of the Spirit of God. Wherever Christians went, God’s Spirit was with them, because Christ was with them. If you remember Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians (6:19-20) that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, this is what he’s getting at. The Temple in Jerusalem was gone––the Jews had given up hope that it would be rebuilt––but Paul, a Christian Jew, came to understand that God’s Spirit was not gone. It had found a new home in the bodies of the body of Christ. For these Christian Jews, in their Temple diaspora, that was an immense comfort. God was not gone! They were not cut off from one another!

This is our comfort, too. Even though we are not all worshipping together in the same space, some people are here, but many more are attending from their own homes, we are not cut off from one another, because Christ is with us. Christ is with each of you, in your home, in your pew, with every single one of you. And because Christ is in you, and you in Christ, as the Bible says, you are not truly separated from one another or from God. Although we are not physically together as we worship, we are together in Christ. We are actually together not just with those who are attending this service today, but with all those across the world who call themselves Christian who are gathered to worship. Across space, and even across the generations. Christ gathers Christians from all around the world, from all across time, and makes us one in him. We are dispersed, but we are not cut off. We are individual, but we are not alone. God––Father, Son, and Spirit––is with all of us.

Of course, it’s hard to really feel this, especially if we’re worshipping at home and we are the only one in front of the screen. I know that feeling. But God has given us a gift for this time, just as God gave to those first Christians in diaspora, and that is the gift of Holy Communion, the body and blood of Christ. This is why Holy Communion is so important at this time, especially online. The physical bread and the wine here, and the physical bread and wine you have at home, in whatever form that comes in, are all part of the one bread and the one wine that is the body and blood of Jesus Christ. When you hold that piece of bread or cracker in your hand, and when you sip that wine or juice, you are holding the same body that every single other person is holding in Communion, and taking into yourself the very same Christ as everyone else. You are engaged in communion with God, and through the Holy Spirit, with one another, whether you are here in this building or sitting at home. Holy Communion makes us one. Despite the COVID diaspora, God graces us with the Holy Spirit so that we are still one church, one congregation, one body of Christ. So, whether you are at home or here, as we continue through this time of disruption and dispersion, as we seek strength to get through this difficult time, know that through God, in Christ, by the power of the Spirit, we are still together. Thanks be to God. Amen.


Sunday, October 03, 2021

The Creator's Good Road - Sermon for Hope Lutheran Church

Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12; Mark 10:2-16

So, I’ve never been divorced so I’m not sure I’m really the best one to talk about what Moses’ command means for divorce. On the other hand, Jesus was never married, so I’m not sure he was the best one to talk about it either…

Fortunately, it turns out that this passage isn’t actually about marriage, as far as I can tell. This passage is about receiving the kingdom of heaven, or “walking the good road,” as some indigenous Christian theologians call it.* This passage is about living as God’s children, and accepting the goodness that God has laid out for all of Creation, and not going off on roads of our own making, where we trip and fall and bring others down with us. This passage is about trusting that God is good and that God has made a good road for us to walk.

But to really get that, we need to back up a bit because there’s some stuff to unpack here.

To start, we need to understand that, during Jesus’ time,  one of the big religious questions going on in Israel was whether or not God is in charge of our lives. It’s a question of fate: has God planned out our lives in advance and we just follow along, or is the journey of our life up to us? It’s a question we still ask today, especially when confronted with mass suffering and an unknown future. And as you can imagine, some people believe it’s the first thing––God has a plan for our lives and makes that plan happen, regardless of the choices we make. And some people believe it’s the second––God gives us responsibility and free will in our lives and therefore we determine how our life unfolds.

In Jesus’ time, there were also two opinions. The Pharisees, whom we hear posing this question to Jesus, held the second opinion––that God gives God’s people the freedom to make decisions about our daily lives. That’s why they allowed divorce––we make choices in marriage and sometimes those turn out to be bad choices, and so divorce is a way to correct those mistakes. The Essenes, another sect in Judaism who don’t show up in this passage, held the first opinion––that our lives are preordained and that our daily choices are irrelevant, and God sets our path the way it is meant to be, and that we should not even attempt to change the situation we find ourselves in.

Jesus, in his response here, is sounding a lot like an Essene. (And I say here because there are other times when he sounds a lot like a Pharisee, actually.) When asked about divorce, Jesus refers to the Creation story, and goes back to God establishing certain relationships, and says, “what God has joined together, let no one separate.” In other words, what God has established for someone’s life, do not undo. If God has ordained that two people should be married, that should not be undone.

But again, the point that Jesus is trying to make is not about marriage. Marriage and divorce are brought up here as an example of what he’s trying to say, not the point. You see, just a few verses earlier, Jesus tells the disciples that “the Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” (Mark 9:30-31) He is speaking again about fate––about God’s plan and path for his life, and that he is not going to undo that plan or stray from that path.

And then, in the passage from last week, Jesus tells the disciples not to put stumbling blocks in front of others, not to interfere with the paths they are walking on, because God has set them on those paths. Jesus tells the disciples to remove the obstacles that are getting in the way of the path God has set them on. And then, after telling his listeners that if God has put them in marriage they should stay in it, he says, “receive the kingdom of God as a little child.” In other words, just as little children automatically open their hands if their caretakers hand them something good, we, too, are to receive what God has given us, and to walk where God is guiding us. Jesus believes that God has made for us a road we are meant to walk and that it is not our job to decide to leave that path.

I don’t know about you, but wow do I have trouble with this. Maybe it’s because I’m an oldest child, maybe it’s because I’ve grown up in a democracy, maybe it’s because I’m still in what I hope is the first half of my life, but wow do I not want to just accept that my life is the way it is and there’s nothing I can or should do about it. I want to be able to make choices about my life, to feel that I have an ability to shape my future, and the future of my children, and the future of those in my community. I want to decide which road I will walk on. I want to believe that I am an adult, not a child. I want to believe that there is a point to me voting in the upcoming election.

And yet, if I am honest, I also believe that even as an adult, I make the wrong choices. I believe that sometimes I choose to leave the good road God would have me walk, and that sometimes I choose to walk the rocky road. Sometimes I have encouraged others to walk that road with me; I have made decisions that have led to a lot of stumbling. And I think we all do that. As much as we want to walk God’s good road, as much as we want to follow Jesus, the reality is that we don’t always do that. We decide to make our own roads. We go our own way. Sometimes because we don’t know any better, and sometimes because we think we do.

So how do we know whose road we are walking? Especially when we come to a fork in the road and must choose one direction over another. When we are faced with a decision that has implications not just for us but for others, how do we know which direction is going our own way and which is following the road Jesus has walked ahead of us? Right now we are all experiencing what happens when those who make decisions lead us down the wrong road––we are dodging stumbling blocks left and right and the vulnerable are getting crushed as they get dragged along. I believe that deep in our hearts, we want to walk the good road, we want to open our arms and receive the blessings of the kingdom of heaven, but it’s not always clear which road that is.

You know, the Pharisees and the Essenes, or in our text today the Pharisees and Jesus, did have something in common. They both believed that God is good, and that God intends goodness for our lives. Jesus mentions the Creation story, and one of the things we know from that story is that when God had finished creating, God called everything “very good.” We know that God created a second person so that the first person wouldn’t be alone, because being alone was “not good.” We know, as our second reading tells us, that God “spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways” and in “these last days” speaks to us by a Son, who sustains all things. Jesus, the Pharisees, us––we all believe and proclaim that God is good and God wants good things for creation.

And so perhaps that is where we start when we decide which road to walk. We remember that God is good, that God’s road is good, and that this goodness is meant for all of creation, not just for a select few. And so we look for the road that is good for children to walk, and the elderly, and the sick. We look for the road that keeps us all together, that is wide enough for us to walk side-by-side, rather than sending us each on our own paths. We make decisions based on what is good for all, not just ourselves.

Of course, sometimes it turns out that we are on the wrong road––that we took the wrong fork. That we chose a road that looked exciting and interesting for our own personal benefit, without considering what it would mean for others. Then we have to engage in the very hard work of making our way over to that other road, over to the road that is good for everyone. If you’ve ever gotten lost while hiking because you tried to take a short cut and then realized you had to make it back to the actual trail, you will know how hard this work is. But here is the good news in that case: Jesus is standing on that good road, shouting out to us and encouraging us and reassuring us that we are now heading in the right direction, and the Holy Spirit is with us, supporting us and giving us strength to make our way back. To push the analogy maybe a little too far, the Holy Spirit is our GPS and our water bottle and our snack and our flashlight, ensuring that we have the energy to get back to the road the Creator has made.

I started by saying that our Gospel passage isn’t about marriage, and it’s not really. It’s about choosing the good road God has laid out for us. And those choices can include the choice to get married, or the choice to get divorced, or the choice to stay single. Sometimes people choose to get married without regard for God's plan––for what turn out to be the wrong reasons, and returning to the good road means getting divorced. Sometimes people choose to get divorced for what turn out to be the wrong reasons, and returning to the good road means choosing to stay married. For some people, walking the good road means never getting married at all. Again, marriage is an example, it’s not the point.

There are other examples, other forks, and these days they are coming fast and hard. The upcoming election and the votes you cast––that’s a fork. To vaccinate or not––that’s a fork. To stay home or go out––that’s a fork. Sometimes God’s good road is clear and easy to choose, other times it’s more difficult to discern, but one thing is for sure, there will always be tempting side roads and decisions to be made.
And in all of these decisions, we remember that God has made a good road for us all to walk on, God has made a kingdom for us all to dwell in, to use the biblical imagery. And we can recognize it because God’s road is the one that is wide enough to accommodate everyone and smooth enough for the vulnerable to travel. It is a road that keeps children and the elderly and the sick safe. It is a road that is good for everyone, not just a few. 

Most importantly, this road is one we can return to again and again. When we find ourselves off the road, either because we have chosen to leave it or accidentally left it or been led off it, the Spirit will lead us back, where we will find Jesus––welcoming us with open arms, healing us where we got hurt on those other roads, and giving us food and drink for the rest of the journey on the Creator’s good road. Thanks be to God. Amen.

*The phrase "Creator's good road" can be found in First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament (IVP, 2021), based of the work of Osage and Lutheran theologian, George E. Tinker (p. 478).