Martha, Mary, and Martin Luther King Jr.: a meditation on listening and serving

Texts: Amos 8 1-12 (a famine of God's Word); Luke 10 38-42 (Jesus visits Martha and Mary)

Have you ever lived through a famine like the one described by the prophet Amos -- a famine not of physical hunger, but of not hearing the Word of God? Have you ever "wandered from sea to sea seeking the word of the LORD and not found it?"

In our Gospel text, Mary experiences a feast of God's Word. She sits at Jesus' feet and listens to him. Mary has chosen the better part, Jesus says to her sister Martha, and perhaps Amos would agree with that statement.

But in today's reading, Amos also demands social justice. He tells rich people in Israel to stop cheating the poor. He says that listening to God leads us to act justly. Listening and acting. Is one of these really the better part?

A sacred moment from recent times that connected listening with action was Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I have a dream" speech. This Wednesday marks the 50th anniversary of this speech. It was delivered by King at the March for Jobs and Freedom in Washington D.C. on August 28, 1963.

In front of 250,000 people, King called for economic justice, racial equality, and an end to police violence.  Then, near the end of his speech, the singer Mahalia Jackson called out to him, saying, "tell them about the dream, Martin." King left his prepared text at that point and let his rhetoric soar.

As a Baptist minister, King was able to draw on images and phrases from Isaiah to the U.S. Constitution, and from the hymn "My Country Tis of Thee," to the spiritual "Free at Last." He linked the American Dream with God's dream for a world of justice, peace, and equality, a world in which freedom would ring.

His speech was influenced by the long struggle to reverse the effects of slavery in the United States, by his previous sermons and speeches, and by the scores of marches and acts of civil disobedience that King had taken part in before 1963.

Martin Luther King's speech made a difference in the struggle for civil rights. His words were heard by the crowd gathered at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial, by a large TV audience, and by people who read about the speech afterwards.

People not only listened to him. Many were also inspired to act. After the March, more people began to resist racist laws and police in the U.S. South. The U.S. government passed civil rights legislation. Some people examined old prejudices and opened their hearts to those of different racial backgrounds.

Unfortunately, other people who heard his speech 50 years ago did not change their opposition to racial equality and social justice. The FBI was alarmed by King and worked to disrupt the Civil Rights Movement. One FBI leader wrote after the speech, "we must now mark [King] as the most dangerous Negro in this nation from the standpoint of communism and national security."

King was assassinated five years later in 1968. Given the violence of the opposition to civil rights, few were surprised. 50 years later, racism has still not been eliminated.

This week, I watched the season finale of "Mad Men," which was set in November 1968. In this episode, the lead character of this TV series, Don Draper, is sinking deeper into alcoholism under the pressure of career, marriage, and the turmoil of the times. In a bar in Manhattan, a street preacher approaches him. Draper challenges the preacher by asking where Jesus was in that year when the War in Vietnam escalated, Richard Nixon was elected President, and Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King were assassinated. When the preacher says that King was not a true believer, Draper lashes out in anger. He punches the preacher, and spends the night in jail.

King advocated non-violence, but I can understand why Draper attacked this narrow-minded preacher. Draper had been inspired by King; he was frustrated at the continuing racism and violence in America five years after King's most famous speech; and he felt despair after King's assassination.

So it was during the time of Jesus. Jesus spoke, and many people were moved to follow him. Others, unfortunately, were alarmed by what he said, and they conspired to kill him.

In our Gospel reading today, we are not told what Jesus said to Mary nor what effect his words had on her. We are not even sure who Mary was. Most people assume that Mary and Martha are the sisters of Lazarus. But Lazarus only appears in the Gospel of John, and the story we heard today only appears in Luke.

In John, Lazarus' sister Mary is the woman who anoints Jesus with oil. But in Luke, the woman who anoints Jesus is an unnamed sinner. Mark and Mathew's versions of that story are different yet again. As is often the case with the Bible, the details are not clear.

Perhaps the Mary in our story today is Mary Magdalene, whom John says is the first person to see Jesus on Easter morning. If we assume this, then perhaps Mary is moved by what Jesus says to follow him to the Cross and beyond.

Jesus says that listening is the better part. And listening often leads to action. It can move us to change our opinions and to act differently.

In 1963, many people in the United States longed to hear the Word of God and believed that they had found it in Martin Luther King. Listening to him changed them and moved them to action. But others said that King was on the side of the devil. They heard him and decided to disrupt his movement and kill him.

In the time of Jesus, many longed to hear the Word of God and believed that they found it in Jesus. Listening to him changed them and moved them to action. But others said that Jesus was on the side of the devil. They heard him and decided to disrupt his movement and kill him.

Today, we also long for the Word of God. But when we find it, how can we be certain that it truly is of God, especially if others label the same thing as the work of the devil?

The stories of Jesus and the history of the civil rights movement remind us that there is not just one opinion about the way forward in our crazy world. Amid competing voices, all we can do is pray and listen to our hearts in community as we try to live into God's dream for a just world.

Then, when we are confident that we have heard God's Word, what next? Are we just to listen or are we also to act for justice? Well, consider that Amos, Jesus and Martin Luther King, although all preachers, were also men of action.

Jesus tells Martha that her sister Mary has chosen the better part. I don't see this statement as drawing a line between listening and serving. Jesus chides Martha not for her work, but because she is worried and distracted. Jesus reminds Martha that it is easy to miss what is sacred in any moment.

Mary may have done nothing after she listened to Jesus, or she may have joined Jesus' movement. We are not sure. But in either case, we know that the God's Word contains the good news that we are healed no matter what we do.

Jesus urges us not be worried or distracted. But if we do succumb to worries, God's Love will still be with us. If we miss what Jesus is trying to say to us, Love will still embrace us. If we don't immediately act after listening to Jesus, Love will still be our sure destiny.

We might be discouraged that although Jesus spoke 2,000 years ago of God's dream for a just world, injustice still abounds. We might be discouraged that although Martin Luther King spoke 50 years ago of God's dream for a world of equality, he was killed and inequality still abounds.

Personally, I am encouraged that so many people are inspired by King and his dream all these years later. I am thankful that so many of us still listen to the stories of Jesus all these centuries later. The struggle goes on, and with joy, we find God's Word within it. The struggle is its own reward even though the road can seem long and hard.

Christ shared our human frailty and invited us to travel on the Way to the Cross. Christ lights our way down this path and assures us that at its end, we are all welcomed back into God's Love from which we have all come

On the path, we try to listen to Jesus' voice and serve God and neighbour. But there will be moments when worries overwhelm us. God's Grace supports us regardless. We don't have to be anything, believe anything, or do anything to receive the free gift of this Grace.

The struggle continues. In the midst of it, we hear the Word again: Christ is with us.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Egypt and the narrow path

Text: Luke 12 49-56 (division, not peace)

Politics and religion don't mix, we are told.

I agree with this statement in some ways even though it is often said as a criticism of liberal churches like the United Church. My perception is that the religious right violates this rule more than the left. When a religious movement seeks to use the power of the state to enforce morality it often seems to be a right-wing one, whether of the Christian Right or the Islamic, Jewish, or Hindu Right.

Today, I focus on the current deadly crisis in Egypt, which illustrates the damage that occurs when religious extremists use the power of the state.

By Friday of this week, I had a sermon written for today, which I liked OK. It connected today's Gospel reading about family divisions to memories of childhood vacations and went on to discuss conflict within families and the church. But yesterday, I scrapped that sermon in favour of this one about Egypt. Not only am I upset about the unfolding conflict in Egypt; I also see a link between the news there and today's Gospel reading on divisions.

Preaching about current events has pluses and minuses. Far-off events might not feel relevant to our life here in Borderlands; and if the news is still unfolding, one could easily misread the situation. On the other hand, current events such as those this week in Egypt can effect on our life as a church even if they are occurring on the other side of the world.

On March 8, 2009 when I was finishing my second year of training to become a minister, I preached a sermon in my field placement site in east-end Toronto. The Fall and Winter of 2008-09 had seen the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression, so I decided to preach about that crisis. A year later, I felt a little foolish when I read that March 9, 2009 represented the lowest point in the New York Stock Exchange. The markets have been on a strong upswing pretty much since the day I preached that sermon.

In a similar fashion, it may be that today's terrible events in Egypt  -- mass demonstrations, an army coup, and a bloody crackdown in which hundreds of civilians  have died -- are now behind us. Perhaps civil war in Egypt will not come to pass. Nevertheless, here is my sermon. I begin with our Gospel text.

In today's reading, Jesus notes that he is under great stress. His journey to Jerusalem is nearing its end, and he knows that he will undergo arrest and execution there -- what he calls his baptism by fire.

Then Jesus says something that might surprise us. "Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!"

But isn't peace what Jesus is all about? In the first chapter of Luke, Zechariah tells Mary that her son will "guide our feet into the way of peace." On the first Christmas night, angels announce Jesus' birth to shepherds by singing "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!" (Luke 2) In his farewell speech to his disciples on the night of the Last Supper, Jesus says "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you." (John 14)

Why, then, does the Prince of Peace say that he has come not to bring peace, but division? Is it just the stress he is under? Or is he pointing to something more fundamental? Perhaps the road to peace is so rocky that it might sometimes divide "father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother"?

Jesus began his ministry in Galilee by dividing a family. Mark writes, "[Jesus] saw James the son of Zeb'edee and John his brother, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zeb'edee in the boat with the hired servants, and followed him." (Mark 1:20-21). Mark does not say how the father Zeb'edee felt at this turn of events.

Jesus' disciples make up a chosen family of friends who love one another in their work of healing and teaching and on the road to Jerusalem. But like any family, the disciples of Jesus experience a lot of conflict, both within and without.

They squabble about who is the greatest among them. They misunderstand almost everything that Jesus is trying to teach or accomplish. In the final crisis of Jesus' arrest and crucifixion, one of the disciples, Judas, betrays Jesus, one of them, Peter, denies him, and all but his women followers flee in fear.

Among the wider Jewish family, Jesus clashes with many of its religious leaders who criticize Jesus for healing on the Sabbath, for not following Kosher rules, and for eating with so-called sinners.

The sharpest clash comes in Jerusalem when Jesus clears the Temple of money-changers. After that, the religious elite work to deliver Jesus over to the Romans. They are trying to preserve religious customs by collaborating with the Roman oppressors.

I see three main groups in the Israel of Jesus' time all of whom are trying to be faithful to God. The first group want to keep peace with Rome by collaborating with it. The second are zealots who want to overthrow Rome by force.  The third group is represented by Jesus. He wants neither to collaborate with Rome nor take up the sword against it. Instead, he confronts the injustice of Rome with non-violent resistance.

Unfortunately, none of these camps succeed in bringing peace or justice.  Despite their best efforts, the collaborators, cannot keep the people quiet and several rebellions break out in that period all of which are crushed. In the Year 70, the Romans win a three-year war against the Jewish people, kills 10s of thousands, and burn the Temple to the ground.

When Jesus enters Jerusalem and confronts religious and political elites with non-violence, he is arrested and executed. The Gospels tell of his resurrection and of the growth of the Jesus' movement afterwards, but a just peace is not achieved.

Egypt today shows some of the same trends. For thousands of years, Egypt was ruled from the outside. Its colonial rulers include ancient Greece, Rome -- both when it was pagan and after it became Christian -- Arabs, Turks, France during the time of Napoleon, and finally Britain during the late 19th and early 20th Century.

Since independence almost 100 years ago, Egypt has struggled to find its footing in a region torn apart by outside interference. In the face of deep problems, many nationalist and Islamic movements have grown. It has endured long periods of military rule. Two and half years ago, a popular revolution brought hope to Egypt.

In free elections in 2012, a conservative religious party, the Muslim Brotherhood, gained power. Once in power, they lost much of their support both because of their heavy-handed religious policies and continuing economic decline.

This June, huge demonstrations opposed the Muslim Brotherhood President, Mohamed Morsi. One was estimated to include more than 15 million people.

Like the protestors, I disliked the Muslim Brotherhood government -- not because it was Islamic, but because of its conservative interpretation of Islam and it use of state power to impose its morality on the nation.

Under popular pressure, the Egyptian military ousted the Muslim Brotherhood and arrested President Morsi in early July. In turn, Muslim Brotherhood supporters staged a six-week long protest, which was met this week with deadly force in which hundreds of civilians have been killed.

The death toll in Egypt is terrible, although it pales next to the death tolls in the civil war in Syria of the last two years (almost 100,000) or in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan over the last decades, which number in the millions.

The crisis in Egypt shows how mixing politics and religion can lead to disaster. The Muslim Brotherhood want to regain power to impose conservative social policies on Egypt. More moderate Muslims, along with the 10% of Egyptians who are Christian, prefer the separation between religion and the state that has developed in Western countries over the last 400 years.

In the West, many parts of the church still try to use the state to impose so-called Christian morality. In the 1990s, this current was represented in Canada by The Reform Party. In the United States at present, it exists in the Republican Party. Call them the Christian Brotherhood, if you want.

In the face of such currents, Jesus' words about division come to my mind. By neither collaborating with the Empire nor seeking to re-establish the Kingdom of Israel by force, Jesus shows us a middle way. It is a narrow path that seeks peace with justice, and that promises healing to all.

Jesus stood up to both conservative religious leaders and to Empire, although he did not immediately overcome them. What his stand accomplished was to rescue the faith of his fathers. Most importantly, his stand allowed the God who is Love to live within us after the pain and death of his crucifixion.

Dividing from both collaborators and violent rebels does not bring immediate peace or justice. It means trying to live life in the light of Christ's resurrection. It also helps us to try to restore the dignity of religion in the face of popular disgust with both Christianity and Islam when right-wing groups try to legislate medieval morality.

When Christians, Muslims, Hindus or Buddhists seek to use state power to impose conservative morality, we should stand against them even if this means family division within church, mosque or temple. Likewise, when so-called moderates use the power of the military to put down the conservatives, we should stand against them as well.

I pray that tolerant and non-violent currents grow in troubled Christian-majority and Muslim -majority countries and that extremists who want to use the power of the state to impose conservative religious policies become more marginal.

I pray that the deadly attacks by the Egyptian army against the deposed Muslim Brotherhood will stop and that negotiations will head off a civil war.

In the days and weeks ahead, two wings of Egyptian society will continue to struggle for control of the state. May a third current grow, one that pursues the narrow path of non-violent resistance to injustice and upholds the sacred values of life, equality and love.

This narrow path is the Way of Jesus. While it may not lead to immediate peace with justice, it helps us stay awake to God's Love amid all the hatred, prejudice, and violence of this life.

When we risk family divisions in the church or mosque by standing up for our values, we can never be sure that we are right. But we can always be sure that we are in the presence of God in Christ who walks with us on our tough road.

Our earthly families will not always be united. But we know that the whole human family is united in the depths and heights of God's Love.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Fear, faith and worship

Texts: Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 (justice, not worship), Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16 (faith, hope and sight), Luke 12 (the heart's treasure)

"Do not be afraid, little flock." Jesus says this to his followers near the end of their journey from Galilee to the city of Jerusalem. When they get to Jerusalem, Jesus will confront the Roman oppressors and the religious leaders who collaborate with them. What could go wrong?

"Do not be afraid," Jesus says, and then he urges his followers to be alert because "the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour." Does this Second Coming include the signs of wars, earthquakes, and famines that Jesus will soon predict in Jerusalem? Nothing to fear in that, is there?

"Do not be afraid" is a phrase used by Jesus more than any other in his ministry. But its repetition highlights that his followers often are afraid.

Today, we hear Jesus' words "do not be afraid" against the backdrop of more funerals for young people killed in car crashes. Many of us here today continue to mourn the tragic deaths last week of Brandon Gauthier of Gravelbourg and Matthew Foley of Coronach. We also hear Jesus' call to not be afraid against the backdrop of strange weather everywhere and of rumours of new terrorist attacks.

This week, I listened to a news report in which a citizen of High River Alberta complained about plans to rebuild homes that were destroyed there in the floods of late June. In a public meeting, he said, "Have you not heard of climate change? These 'once in a hundred events' are the new norm."

But where can one safely build a residence? It is hard to imagine a community that could emerge undamaged from rainstorms that drop 10 inches of rain in one hour, as happened in many parts of Missouri, Tennessee, Kansas, and Georgia this past week.

Still, Jesus says to us, "Do not be afraid." We are supposed to replace fear with faith. We are supposed to trust in God's promises despite the pain and fragility of our lives and despite reports of death and destruction coming at us from all sides.

The author of Hebrews presents Abraham as a model of faith for us. According to the stories in Genesis, Abraham left a city in what is now Iraq about 4,000 years ago and travelled to a far off land simply because God asked him to do so.

I identify a bit with Abraham. Two years ago, I left the city of Toronto for an unknown place called Borderlands, also largely on faith.

Well, it wasn't only faith. When I got the call from the Settlement Committee on May 8th 2011 that I had been placed here, the first thing I did was call Rev. Kevin Johnson, the minster here at the time. In that call, Kevin told me that Chinook Presbytery was going to meet at Wesley United in Rockglen that coming Saturday. So, I decided to come and check the place out -- perhaps with the idea at the back of my mind that I might yet decline Settlement and postpone my ordination!

My four-day trip here that weekend reassured me that Borderlands -- despite being outside of my experience -- would make a good fit for me. I liked the Presbytery meeting, I learned a lot by talking with Kevin, I enjoyed worship in all three points, and I was especially reassured when Arlene showed me the manse after the first service. She told me that the renters were moving out and that I could have it if I wanted, which I did.

Two years ago was the first year that prospective ordinands in the United Church of Canada had a choice to either be placed by the Settlement Committee -- which had always been the practice -- or seek a call on our own. I was one of 10 ordinands out of 50 that chose Settlement. But we did not know that only 12 charges in all of Canada would put themselves forward for Settlement, and that none of them would be close to major centres.

As part of Settlement, we had filled out a form that asked us to rank the regions of Canada by preference of where we would like to be settled. I put Toronto first, then Hamilton, and the region to the east of Toronto third. I put Saskatchewan fourth, mostly because my friend Anne Hines had been settled here the year before -- in Lucky Lake -- and she had told me that she was loving the experience.

In the event, no pastoral charges within 1,000 km of Toronto, Montreal, or Vancouver put themselves forward for settlement, and so I was placed here. I could have refused settlement and postponed ordination. Instead, I chose faith over my fears, I came out here, and I have felt blessed ever since.

Abraham had many adventures and troubles on his journey to what is now Israel and Palestine, including the heartbreak of childlessness, and the mystery of becoming a father very late in life.  As the reading from Hebrews also reminds us, Abraham died without most of the promises made to him by God being fulfilled. 4,000 years later, many of these promises are still not fulfilled. Nevertheless, Jesus urges us again and again to "not be afraid."

And so as faithful people, we have come to worship. But then we hear in today's Old Testament reading from Isaiah that God hates our worship; that our sacrifices are an abomination; and that God wants good deeds and justice instead of worship. Further, if we don’t measure up, Isaiah tells us that God will devour us with the sword. So . . . don’t be afraid?

Faith without fulfilment; worship despite God's hatred of our worship; lack of fear despite the idea that the Son of Man could return at any moment and perhaps devour us with the sword. It seems like a lot to take, don't you agree?

These are big topics on which a great deal could be said. But I will conclude with just a few thoughts on each.

For me, life is a journey from fear to faith. Accepting God's Grace to trust life does not mean that the things we fear will not happen. Weather will continue to threaten and sometimes devastate us. Young people will sometimes die in tragic accidents. All of us will eventually sicken and die.

When Jesus urges us to be ready, he is reminding us of the blessings that surround us despite all that we don't like about life. "Blessed are those servants whom the master finds alert when he comes; he will come and serve them."

When I hear this passage, I don't think of the frightening scenes that are supposed to accompany the Second Coming of Christ like those found in the Book of Revelation. I think of any moment. It could be a beautiful summer morning full of calm and promise. It could be a dire moment on one's deathbed. It could be right now, here in our inadequate worship service.

Any moment can be one in which to encounter the Christ within, the Spirit between us, and the Source of Life that supports us.

Revelation tells us that the Second Coming will be a time of torment and triumph. But I prefer St. Paul when he says that Christ has already returned to live in our hearts and minds. The writer of Revelation has his fearsome vision. We have the assurance that God is right here, right now.

Jesus calls us to pursue treasure that does not fail. He tells us to look to our hearts. For most of us, the thing we treasure above all else is not money, possessions or power. It is family. In our families, despite their flaws and frustrations, we find heavenly treasure. We find each other, and we find God.

And so we come to worship -- to remember this promise, to reflect on where God in Christ can be found in our lives today, and to renew our spirits through times of prayer, song, or sacrament. We come to stay awake to the reality of our blessings.

Isaiah reminds us that worship is not enough. God wants action and justice, which is true enough. But I do not think that Isaiah's warnings negate Jesus phrase, "Do not be afraid." When worship reminds us of our fears and how God overcomes them, it empowers us to fight for justice as well.

We have much to fear in this crazy world and in fragile lives. But we also have infinite reasons to trust. In any moment, God's Grace can help us remember that the Son of Man has been raised to live in our hearts and minds. This is true in Borderlands as well as in the world's biggest cities. It is true in times of calm as well as in times of storm. It is true in the midst of life as well as at the end of life.

And for this reason, we say again, Thanks be to God.

Amen.

How should we pray, and why?

Texts: Psalm 85 (love and justice), Luke 11:1-13 (the Lord's Prayer)

How should we pray, and why?

In our reading from Luke this morning, we heard one of the three original sources of what Protestants call "The Lord's Prayer" and what Catholics call the "Our Father."

The one from Luke is the shortest of the three. A longer and more influential version is found in Matthew 6. The third ancient version is from a First Century book called the Didache, or the Teaching of the 12 Apostles. The version in the Didache includes the ending "for thine is the power and the glory forever," which is used by most Protestants but not by Catholics.

[Although it did not end up in the New Testament, the Didache helped the early church establish its sacraments, ethical teachings and organization.]

Despite these three sources and their differences, The Lord's Prayer is the single most unifying element of Christian worship. The prayer is so well-known that it might surprise us when we look at it more closely.

A book about the Lord's Prayer that I read this week begins by saying "it is said by all Christians, but it never mentions Christ. It is prayed in all churches, but it never mentions church . . . It is called 'The Lord's Prayer,' but it never mentions 'Lord.' . . . It is prayed by Christians who split from one another over this or that doctrine, but it never mentions a single one of those doctrines."

The book is by the famous biblical scholar, John Dominic Crossan and it is called "The Greatest Prayer: Rediscovering the Revolutionary Message of The Lord's Prayer." I bought it in June in Estevan at the annual meeting of the Saskatchewan Conference of the United Church, and I will return to it later.

Our first Scripture reading, Psalm 85, is also a prayer, and it contains familiar elements. The first is thanksgiving for the actions of God in the past. The second is a request for more help from God, to restore the people again in the face of new defeats. Finally, it comments on the nature of God's love and faithfulness and God's desire for justice and peace.

I like the final section of the Psalm. But the first two parts present difficulties for me. Is the good fortune of the people in Jerusalem really the result of the action of God? Likewise, is their later defeat and misery also the result of the action of God? Many psalms say this. But while I understand why the authors 2500 years ago held such ideas, they don't work for me today.

Last week, I watched a TV documentary on PBS about the role of American churches in the Civil War of 150 years ago. It showed that many American denominations -- Baptist, Methodist, and Presbyterian -- split into pro-slavery and anti-slavery wings in the years leading up to the Civil War. It showed how both the Union government in the North and the Confederate government of slaveholders in the South claimed that God was on their side in the war.

Many people became disillusioned with church in the face of the horrible slaughter of the war, in which 600,000 people were killed. But there was also a revival of church fortunes after the war in the defeated South, which surprised me.

This documentary highlighted several things about church history that disturb me. There was the fact that pro-slavery Christians had an easier time finding passages in support of slavery in the Bible than their opponents had in finding ones to oppose it. Second is the role churches play supporting most wars, often for both sides, as was the case in the U.S. Civil War.

A few years ago, I aruged with my Old Testament professor about the U.S. Civil War. One of our textbooks favourably quoted U.S. President Abraham Lincoln when he said that the defeat of the South reflected God's Judgment on slavery. While this idea is certainly in line with many Bible passages, it does not fit with the God to whom I pray.

I told the professor that I resented having to buy and read an expensive textbook written by an author who accepted the idea that God's Judgement is expressed through human wars.

Personally, I don't believe that God acts in major events such as war -- or small ones like illness. But if God doesn't act in such events, why, then, should we pray?

For me, prayer reminds us of the most crucial things that we face at any given moment. It helps us remember what we hold sacred. And it allows us to give thanks for what we have already been given, namely the Grace of God's Love.

When I pray for the victims of war, I am not asking God to stop war. I pray because I hate war and seek inspiration to struggle against it. When I pray for people who are sick and in pain, I am not asking God to effect a miraculous cure. I pray that those of us who are sick will be aware of God's presence. When I pray for people who have lost loved ones, I am not praying that God will restore the dead to life. I pray that those of us who mourn will find some healing in the face of terrible pain.

Finally, I pray to give thanks for the presence of God's Spirit in both good times and bad. I pray to remember the Gift of Grace revealed in our lives.

This week, we pray again for the families and friends of six young people killed last weekend in Lloydminster. We pray because, in the face of such grief, we have nothing other than prayer. We also pray because the pain of their loss reminds us of how sacred life is, and also how short it can be.

There is much in our lives that does not reflect our sacred values, but life is still a pure gift; and for that fact, we give thanks and praise. Our world contains too much violence and pain, but we also give thanks that ultimate salvation is available to us all.

The Lord's Prayer expresses much of this, I think. It names God as Father -- a loving parent. It looks forward in hope to God's reign of peace and justice. It takes note of our need for bread and for forgiveness, even as it also gives thanks for bread and forgiveness. Finally, it reminds us of the temptations we face.

In his book, John Crossan argues that a key temptation against which the Lord's Prayer stands is the temptation to act with violence in the name of God.

On the night of his death, Crossan suggests, Jesus prays a short version of the Our Father prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, when he cries out: "Abba, Father. Take this cup away from me. But not my will, but your will be done." Jesus completes the prayer, Crossan says, a little later when he tells his followers to avoid the temptation to attack the Roman soldiers when they arrest him.

Churches, unfortunately, often fall victim to that temptation. The U.S. Civil War is just one example among many. In supporting wars on whatever side, churches try to follow Christ in his work for God's reign of justice. But they fail, I believe, because they do not also follow Christ on his path of non-violence and love.

New life is given to us as disciples of Christ, but this new life can be obscured by violence and war. That is the overall message I take from Scripture despite what some biblical passages say in support of war, or what leaders like those in the Union North or the Confederate South of the U.S. claimed 150 years ago.

At the end of our Gospel reading today, Jesus reminds us that the Father sends the Holy Spirit to those who ask. As St. Paul wrote in Romans, "the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God." We do not always know how to pray. But the Spirit knows.

Life in the Spirit does not mean that wars won't happen. It doesn’t mean that young people won't die needlessly. It doesn't mean that we won't experience sharp pain or loss.

What life in the Spirit does mean is that God will intervene in our prayers and help remind us in good times and bad that God is with us, and that our salvation is secure.

So as always, let our prayer today be, Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Loving our neighbours in a racist world

Texts: Galatians 3:23-29 (one in Christ); Luke 10:25-37 (The Good Samaritan)

We have just heard the famous parable of the Good Samaritan. It tells of a Jewish man robbed, beaten and left for dead; his betrayal by two religious leaders of his own community -- a priest and a Levite -- who pass him by without checking to see if he is dead or alive; and the surprising source from which his aid finally comes, the man whom Jesus says was neighbour to him and whom he should love. This man was a Samaritan, which was an ethnic group hated by many of the Jews of that time.

Jesus tells the parable in response to questions about religious laws for worship, and about how we are to behave in a society torn apart by religious and racial divisions. Though Jesus' parable is almost 2,000 years old, it still has a lot of relevance. Our world today, like Palestine during the times of the Romans, is torn apart by social, religious, and racial divisions created by centuries of war, conquest and colonization.

The parable is not from the Lectionary reading list for this Sunday. It was the Gospel reading for two weeks ago on July 14. When I went to church in Toronto on that day, I was surprised that the minister did not relate the parable to the big news item that had hit the media the evening before -- the story of the acquittal in Florida of George Zimmerman, a Neighbourhood Watch volunteer, who had killed an unarmed black teenager, Trayvon Martin last year.

Zimmerman confronted Martin even though the teen was simply walking from a corner store back to his father's house in the neighbourhood that Zimmerman shared with Martin's father. Zimmerman in his attempt to be a "good neighbour" took note of Martin because of his youth, his black skin colour and his hoodie (or "bunny hug" as they are called in Saskatchewan). Zimmerman called 911 to report his suspicions. But despite a directive from the dispatcher to not confront the teen himself but to wait for police, Zimmerman left his car carrying a concealed gun, he confronted the teen, who was unarmed, and he shot him dead.

Clearly, this story is one that turns on the sorry history of 250 years of slavery in the United States and all the discrimination, social turmoil, and grief that has followed the end of slavery in the American Civil War of 150 years ago.

The murder of Trayvon Martin by Zimmerman -- for that is what it is, murder, despite the surprising acquittal of Zimmerman by the jury -- is one of how not to be a neighbour; of how racial suspicions continue to poison life in the U.S.; of laws that allow the carrying of concealed guns; and of the ridiculous "Stand Your Ground" law in Florida, which allows a person to use deadly force when they feel threatened even if one is in a public place where one could back away from a perceived threat.

It seems to me that the story of Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman is one tailor-made for a reflection on the parable of the Good Samaritan. But the minister two weeks ago in Toronto's Metropolitan Community Church did not refer to the news item. She surely had reasons. The news had broken late on Saturday so perhaps she didn't have time to change her remarks for what was an anniversary service. As a fellow minister, I can quite understand.

I bring the parable and the news story together today in the hope that it can help us reflect on the ongoing problems we face in a society created by centuries of colonialism and with all the ills of racism that colonialism breeds.

By the way, I went to Sunday worship on all the five Sundays I was away this summer. Some of my siblings questioned this behaviour. Why on earth would I, as a worship leader, attend worship when I was on vacation from all that?

My reply has several parts. One, I enjoy worship. I appreciate gathering with fellow seekers each week to reflect on our shared sacred values in the light of events today. Second, I sometimes enjoy being a member of the congregation instead of always being the presider or preacher. Third, I gain a lot by seeing how other church communities gather and what their life together looks like.

Our other Scripture reading today from Galatians 3 is also not from today's Lectionary list. It was the New Testament reading for June 23. I had it read here today because it, like the Gospel parable of the Good Samaritan, hinges on questions of law versus grace and the impact that God's grace has on a society divided between Jew and Greek, slave and free, and men and women.

None of us are responsible for the history of colonialism in a country like Canada or the United States, any more than the Jews and Samaritans of Jesus' time were responsible for the colonial history that had divided these two groups 800 years before the time of Jesus.

We come to consciousness as children and are forced to deal with the nature of the society into which we were born. I grew up in Cornwall Ontario in the 60s and 70s on the banks of the St Lawrence River and at the border of Ontario, Quebec, and New York State. Most people in Cornwall were of European descent, although there was a big split between the poorer French-speaking people in the east of the city, all of whom were descendants of the people defeated by the English in 1763 in Quebec, and the richer English-speaking people in the west.

A family of immigrants from Lebanon did live on my street. I was intrigued by them when news of war between Israel and its Arab neighbours filled the news media of the day. Then when I was in Grade 5, a girl who had immigrated with her family from India joined my class. Her presence was burned in my memory on a day when our class took a field trip across the river to Massena New York. We toured the hydro-electric power plant there to compare it to the one in Cornwall -- both products of the St. Lawrence Seaway development of the 1950s. This was back in the halcyon days when you didn't need a passport to cross into the United States.

I was shocked when the border control officers let us all through except this little girl from India. She  spent the day at the border while the rest of us went across the river with our teachers. What possible harm did these officers fear from this little girl, I wondered. Was her brown skin such a terrible sign?

In Saskatchewan today, the biggest legacy of Canada's sorry history of colonialism is our large population of people of First Nation's descent. This reality has not been very big in my experience since I came here two years ago because, for some reasons, not many native people live here right along the border. This contrasts with Cornwall which has a First Nations reserve on an Island in the River. But of course from watching news reports, I know of the many social problems that result from European conquest of our First Nations in cities like Regina and Saskatoon.

Now, the question of what to do about racial, religious and ethnic tensions that result from colonialism is not an easy one, of course. What we do get from Jesus' parable and from St. Paul's words today, I think, is a call to not let racial divisions poison our worship life, our mission as a church, or our day-to-day behaviour with our neighbours.

Jesus tells the parable when he is challenged by an expert in religious law. This man's summary of the law -- love God and love your neighbour as yourself -- is the same as the summary given by Jesus in a passage found in both Mark and Matthew. When the expert then asks Jesus for help in defining the word "neighbour," Jesus tells him the famous story.

At the end of his parable, Jesus asks the religious expert which of the three was neighbour to the man who fell in with the robbers. The expert points to the Samaritan, the one who showed him kindness.

When thinking of this parable in the past, I assumed that love of neighbour was shown by the kind actions of the Samaritan. But I now wonder if can't equally refer to the feelings the wounded man might have had toward the Samaritan. The original hearers of the parable, like the wounded man, were Jewish. Maybe the commandment "love your neighbour" is not just about acting with kindness towards strangers, but also loving those who help us regardless of who they are.

All of us are wounded in some ways and we all need help. In this life of many troubles, we are forced to trust people who are the hands and feet of God among us, including strangers who help us in ways both known and unknown.

Sometimes, God's love may come to us from sources we expect, such as from religious leaders and in "properly" conducted worship.

At other times, God's love may come to us from quarters that surprise us. It might be shown to us by someone from a religion or ethnic group we despise.

God is not found only in Judaism or Christianity or Buddhism or Islam. God is found in all religions, and in people of no religion. Unfortunately, people like the expert who are narrowly focused on religious law may not be aware of this gracious truth.

Jesus' parable doesn’t offer easy solutions, but it does point to our common humanity, which is a deeper calling than narrow religious law. It shows us that God's grace is here for us, although it is not always come to us from in our own in-group.

Paul makes this gracious news explicit in today's reading from Galatians. He writes: "as many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus."

In the nearly 2,000 years since Paul wrote these stirring words, many millions have been baptized -- just like young Hunter here this morning -- and yet humanity is not yet united. But we know that in God's Spirit, we are one, and this truth can help us to see beyond our prejudices and unite us in the struggle for greater kindness and justice with people from different backgrounds.

Like the man who was beaten by robbers, we are all broken souls who need God's love and help in the form of the kind actions of their neighbours.

Sin and brokenness abound in our lives. But God's grace also abounds. This grace aids us in our struggles for justice; and it makes eternal life possible for any of us, whether we follow narrow religious laws or not. God in Christ helps us to accept grace no matter from what strange corner it might come.

Prejudice born of colonialism continues to divide us. But God in Christ unites and gives us life in all its pain, wonder, and joy.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Christ, self, hymns and eternity

Text: Galatians 2 15-21 (dying and rising with Christ)

Selfishness is a common pitfall for many of us. But have you ever considered that feeling bad about one's self might also be a form of selfishness? Pride is a self-centred feeling. But so are self-blame and self-hatred.

I have been feeling bad about myself the last few weeks. I have had a pain under my right shoulder-blade, and it has slowed me down.

When I feel pain like this, I fear that it might reflect a character flaw. At the least, the pain leads me to work less and spend more time moping. And now I have an additional fear that my preoccupation with my shoulder is self-centred.

In today's reading from Galatians, Paul shows us an extreme way to avoid selfishness. He writes that he has been crucified with Christ and that he no longer lives. Instead, it is Christ, or the sovereign Spirit of God, that lives in him.

Paul is liberated from the demands of religious law by the grace that comes with death. Further, since Paul's self has died, he can't act selfishly anymore, can he? Since he is already dead, worries about pain and desire also disappear.

Paul, I think, is suggesting that the individual self is an illusion. It might seem like the most obvious and important thing in each of our worlds. But in truth, the self is just a necessary illusion. When, with grace, we become aware of this illusion, the self dies painfully with Christ. After this crucifixion, Christ is reborn in our hearts, and we are free to enter eternal life in God.

Paul's statement strikes me as quite remarkable; and today's reading from Galatians is the most important one in the Bible for me outside of the Gospels. I believe in what he writes. I am sure that it gets to the heart of God's Grace. But this does not mean that I don't have trouble understanding Paul's message or living into it.

When I came up with the idea to use this service as a time for singing favourite hymns -- this after hearing complaints from many people about the strange hymns I often choose for Sunday worship -- I wondered if I might postpone preaching on Paul's text from Galatians until after my summer break. Maybe I would feel more up to that difficult task after a month off.

In pursuit of that idea, I pulled a book about hymns off of my shelf to see if it might help. It is called "Simple Gifts: Great Hymns: One Man's Search for Grace." An inscription in the book reminded me that it was a gift from a woman who had looked to me for spiritual guidance three years ago.

I have now read the book with pleasure. The book and the story of my friend, Phyllis, who gave it to me linked up in my mind with today's reading from Galatians about self and death, Christ and grace. So today I tell the story of my friend Phyllis, and of the book she gave me as a way to approach Paul's astonishing letter, Galatians.

I met Phyllis three years ago when I was a student minister in Didsbury Alberta. She came to worship on Mother's Day 2010 as I was nearing the end of my 10 months in Alberta. Her mother, Shirley, had been a keen and active member of Knox United in Didsbury for many years, and was now dying of cancer. Phyllis travelled with her husband Jack from New York to be with her mother and the rest of Shirley's family for one last Mother's Day.

Shirley died a few weeks later and I got to know Phyllis better in the preparation for the funeral. It was the last one at which I presided in Didsbury. Phyllis also came to my final service in Didsbury, which was held on June 13, 2010, and she was the last person I spoke with before I drove out of town and headed back east to Toronto.

Phyllis continued to correspond with me via email. She told me that the funeral and the two Sunday services in Didsbury had inspired her to become a minister herself. When she and Jack visited friends in Toronto in the summer of 2010, I spent an afternoon with her talking about options she might pursue to become a minister. It was then that she gave me the book about hymns.

At my suggestion, Phyllis enrolled in the United Church's Ministry-Based-Ordination Program run out of the Atlantic School of Theology in Halifax. In this program, students work as supply ministers and do most of their coursework online. They also gather for six weeks in Halifax each summer over five years where they take other courses in intensive bursts. I told Phyllis that I wished I had known about this program when I made the crazy leap of faith to become a minister six years ago.

The next summer in 2011, Phyllis had almost finished her first summer term in Halifax when I got a strangled phone call from her husband Jack. He told me that she had unexpectedly died in her sleep on her last night in Halifax, probably as a result of complications from surgery she had had a few years earlier.

I felt guilty about Phyllis' death. It was at my suggestion that she had decided to to study in Halifax. Maybe if she had been home in New York with her husband, he could have gotten her to treatment in time to save her, although who knows?

Nevertheless, the facts are what they are. Phyllis was inspired by services I led in Alberta. She took my advice about which program to attend. She died while in Halifax. And she left me a book about hymns, which now informs my thinking today.

The author of the book, Bill Henderson, reminds me of myself, which is what Phyllis had written in her inscription. He was raised in a devout family, left the church as an adolescent, and returned after years of skepticism. Like me, he is inspired by hymns. Like me, he appreciates theology that points to the end of the self or ego and argues that salvation, eternity and heaven are states that arise in the here and now when our small self dies and we become aware of the inner Christ. Like me, Henderson appreciates Galatians 2 and St. Paul's suggestion that the self is an illusion.

Henderson focuses on the Quaker hymn "Simple Gifts," "Amazing Grace," "Be Thou My Vision," and "Make Me A Channel of Your Peace." The latter hymn ends with the line that it is only by dying that we gain eternal life.

But is it true that the self is an illusion, and is this what Paul is suggesting? Many religious leaders seem to say the opposite. Heaven is thought by many to be an endless existence for the ego where all moments are blissful ones. Hell is supposed to be an endless existence for the ego where all moments are ones of torment.

For me, such ideas are both incoherent and self-centred. Am I supposed to be so full of myself that I believe either that I am so terrible that God will torture me forever, or that I am so wonderful that God will sustain my ego in a supposed state of bliss?

I embrace the ideas of eternity and salvation, but I do not connect them to an illusory and pain-filled ego or self. True, we cannot function without a notion of the self even if it is an illusion. It is the most well-developed and complex concept in our minds. Our egos are the pole around which we make all decisions and digest all of our experience, feelings and thoughts.

Nevertheless, our egos are completely dependent on earthly life with its billions of years of history and the thousands-year-old human culture within which we live. They key product of culture is language with which our minds are constructed.

The earth, life, and humanity are Sacred to us. To the extent that there is anything Sacred about us as individuals, it is not our egos. We each carry within us a Sacred flame, which reflects our connection to the earth, to life, and to the rest of humanity. In the church, we call this flame the inner Christ. It is both far more profound and far less unique than our egos. In Galatians, Paul reminds us that the Christ within us is everything and that our selves are nothing.

The ups and downs of life can help show us that individuality is an illusion. With grace, we sometimes realize that we are not as great as we imagine; nor are we as wretched as we sometimes feel. We are children of God who are dependent on God for everything. We are not responsible for the earth, life, or the culture in which we find ourselves. We are not the source of either life's triumphs or its tragedies.

Grace is waking up to this reality. In order to be crucified with Christ, we don't have to do anything. In order to rise to new life in Christ beyond the small self, we don't have to do anything. For me, this is amazing grace.

The best we can hope for in worship, I think, is to sometimes get help to become aware of this grace. Becoming aware of personal crucifixion and communal resurrection does not always come easily. But we are confident that we can taste it at any moment. Most importantly, we are sure that this reality is unavoidable when our individual bodies finally die.

This idea of dying to our old selves and rising to new life in Christ is not a ploy to let us off the hook for our actions. Rather, it reminds us that we live within God's freedom and joy, despite our individual problems. Within this Sacred realm, we can work for God's kingdom without attachment to any outcomes.

I am sorry that Phyllis died unexpectedly two years ago in Halifax, just as I am sorry that her mother Shirley died not so unexpectedly three years ago in Didsbury. I am glad that I didn't die when I rolled my car in February. I am glad that we are here today to pray, to sing, and to worship together. But as Paul reminds us in Romans, whether we live or we die, we are God's. For this, we give thanks and praise.

Individual life is fleeting, but communal life within God's spirit is eternal, which is a truth we can taste in any moment through the power of the Spirit.

Singing has often helped me become aware of new life in Christ. I love hymns, even if I sometimes disagree with the words. I love choirs, even when we don't sing perfectly. Hymn singing takes me beyond my small self and into the bigger realm of  humanity and God's Holy Spirit.

Today, I feel somewhat discouraged that after three years of ministry, I cannot better describe the good news that our small selves are an illusion and that Grace is found in a communal life within God's Spirit. But somewhere in the swirl of ideas and memories I have mentioned this morning about singing, about Phyllis, about my painful shoulder, about death, and about surprising new life, I believe there is a sermon struggling to get out. Maybe next year . . .

Even more importantly, I hope that the hymns we sing after this sermon will help us know again that the Spirit of God in Christ is within us and between us. We often suffer from pain, even a pain as terrible as crucifixion. The good news is that after crucifixion, Love comes to new life as Christ within us and in others, both now and always.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Good news, religion and change

Texts: Galatians 1 (different gospels), Luke 7 1-10 (healing by faith)

Change is a constant in all of our lives. Each day brings changes to ourselves, to our families, and to our surroundings. Each day brings changes to the culture in which we live. These changes can feel both exciting and frightening. They give us new possibilities, but they can also threaten old ways of doing things.

Today's Scripture readings are about change. In the reading from Luke, Jesus meets the friends of a Roman soldier who ask Jesus on this officer's behalf to heal one of his slaves. Jesus remarks that he has never found faith in Israel as strong as that shown by this Roman soldier.

Paul's angry letter, Galatians, of which we heard the first chapter today, presents his side of his argument with Peter. Peter was the disciple whom Jesus called the rock upon which he would build his church. Peter says that non-Jewish followers of Jesus must adopt traditional laws and customs. Paul disagrees. He says that to insist that non-Jews follow those ways is a violation of the good news revealed in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

Like the reading from Luke, Galatians highlights big changes that are occurring in the religion into which both Jesus and Paul were born.

Today, I discuss these readings against the background of change in our church today. Last weekend, I was in Estevan at the Annual General Meeting of the Saskatchewan Conference of the United Church. Much of our discussion was about the decline of the church. And this past Tuesday, eight of us from Borderlands sat around Anne Borgerson's kitchen table to talk with a facilitator from Regina who is part of a large team gathering input from congregations across Canada. These conversations will help the United Church's Comprehensive Review Group make recommendations to the next General Council meeting of our church in 2015. Their recommendations are expected to be both radical and dramatic.

Like Paul 2,000 years ago, we are faced with the question of how to preach the good news in a changing context. For Paul, this context was the Roman world outside of Judaism. Paul preached to people who were not Jews and who wanted to be faithful Christians without having to also follow Jewish traditions.

For us in the 21st Century, the challenge is to be Christian at at time when more and more people locate their spiritual life outside of the church. Church today is in crisis, just as Judaism was in crisis after the burning of the Temple in Jerusalem in the First Century. Jesus said that non-Jews could be as faithful as any Jew. Paul argued that Christ's good news did not depend on old religious practices.  I hope that looking at their words from 2000 years ago can help us today as we struggle with a world that is moving beyond the church.

Much of the New Testament focuses on tension in the early church between Jews and non-Jews. Peter says that the gospel does not do away with the need to follow Jewish laws. Paul disagrees. He says that the good news liberates us from tradition. Simply by dying with Christ and rising with him to new life, all can be saved. Nothing else matters besides this good news, Paul argues, including religious traditions.

Paul preaches this gospel even though his whole life has been steeped in a Judaism that is about sacrifice at the Temple in Jerusalem and following the commandments found in the Hebrew Scriptures -- 613 of them according to one count. These commandments detail how one is to eat, dress, and conduct everyday life.

I have always found it easy to side with Paul in this dispute with Peter since I don't find all of the commandments useful. Some of them seem burdensome or even silly to me. Many Jews, however, follow these laws and customs with joy and gratitude. Observing traditional practices reminds them of their connection to God in every moment. Being an observant Jew is like an endless prayer, they say. Religion becomes much more just than worship. It becomes an all-embracing way of life that helps one to act ethically and know with every breath that God is with us.

Those of us who remember the glory days of the United Church 50 or more years ago might be able to relate to this kind of all-embracing religion. Back then, church didn't just involve attending Sunday worship. It might also have meant choir practice on Thursday nights, Bible study, couples' clubs, youth groups, UCW units, CGIT, and community outreach. Each day began and ended with prayer. Grace was said before each meal. Social gatherings were almost always with other church people.

Today, only a minority of us maintain such church traditions and rhythms. And the key supporters of the church are much older than the people who gathered in large numbers in our sanctuaries in days gone by.

I am one of those who continue to love Sunday worship, hymn singing, constant prayer, Bible study, outreach efforts, and living to the rhythm of the church's sacred calendar instead of the secular calendars of school, business or the entertainment industry. At the same time, I try to come to grips with the fact that fewer and fewer Canadians share these passions.

Does the decline of religion mean that the good news of dying and rising with Christ is also being lost? Paul argues that religious traditions, while life-giving to those who practice them, are not the gospel. Paul remained an observant Jew to his last day. But he preached to Gentiles and created churches all around the Mediterranean in which people did not follow Jewish practices or laws. Paul preached a gospel that was beyond the old traditions, just as Jesus led a movement that was outside the religious structures of his time.

I will continue to live within the church for as long as there are people with whom to worship and serve. But can we live into the truth of the gospel and preach the good news if our old church traditions wither away completely?

Paul, I think, would answer "yes." He reminds us that religious traditions and institutions, as important as they are, are not the good news of God in Christ. People who never go near a church can find a trusting faith in life. People who don't consider themselves religious find spiritual food from any number of sources.

The challenge for people like me who worship and serve in the United Church is to find ways to live and preach the gospel even if a congregation dies or if our denomination fails.

In the First Century, Jews were forced to find new ways to worship and serve God after the Romans burned down the Temple. The Temple had been at the centre of their worship life for 1,000 years. Some First Century Jews followed Peter and Paul and found God in Christ. Others found new ways of being faithful to God in a life centred in synagogues.

Today, churches like ours are scaling back. The annual meeting in Estevan last weekend decided to not hold a meeting next year because our conferences are facing a 15% cut in grants from General Council in 2014. And the group at Anne's house on Tuesday agreed that if current trends continue, Borderlands may one day be forced to close.

For now, Borderlands is viable. I have been here for two years, and I feel blessed to serve with you. But during these two years, we have had more funerals than baptisms, which is the case in virtually every congregation in Canada today. Who knows how long it will be before we are forced to make big changes in our life as a pastoral charge within the United Church of Canada?

However, I am sure that regardless of what the Comprehensive Review Group recommends in 2015 and regardless of what happens to Borderlands in the next five years, all of us will continue to know God in Christ. I also trust that all people  -- both those who come to church and those who do not -- will find ways to to die with Christ and rise with him to new life in any moment and at the end of life.

In a few minutes, we will celebrate the sacrament of holy communion. With joy, we will remember the ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus. But is it also an obligation? Some Christians say that without the sacraments of the church, we cannot be saved.

This idea seems closer to Peter than to Paul, and I disagree with it. While I love communion, I am confident that God's Love would lead us home to God even if we never celebrated it again. Communion reminds us of God's grace. But God's grace does not depend upon our remembrance. God's grace is given to us all freely.

Religious traditions, like worship at the Temple in Jerusalem or sacraments like communion, come and go. But the good news lives on regardless. Churches comes and go, but faith, hope and love abide.
Love is bigger than the tradition or any religion. God is Love, and so with or without church and its traditions, we know that we are saved.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.