Saturday, June 7, 2014

Saturday, June 7, 2014
1 Peter 2:4-10

The First Letter of Peter is part of the literature that comes  to us from the early Church: it's authorship is not certain: some ascribe it to Peter while in Rome, while others suggest that several persons at different times contributed to the present edition. Nevertheless, the content is certainly relevant to those interested in living the Christian life. Today's excerpt  encourages those who have come to the point of being aware that they are now part of the new community in Christ: As "living stones" there is an awareness of living in Christ in that there is at times, a consciousness of living in his space. But, as well as that, as members of this community, there is also encouragement to let one's life reflect God's mighty works in all that is.  "Cornerstone" suggests that Jesus, despite being rejected by some, has in fact for others, become a foundation for life. As we "live in Christ", we are challenged daily to view our lives and all life,  as being anchored in God. For me , when this happens, Life becomes " Blessing". May this be your reality too!

- Archdeacon Ken Cardwell

Friday, June 6, 2014

Friday, June 6, 2014

Jeremiah 31:27-34

“Within them I shall plant my Law, writing it on their hearts.” (31:33, NJB)

This description of God’s new covenant — God’s pact or relationship with humanity —always strikes me as radically different from what many zealously religious people would envision. While today’s literalists and fundamentalists emphasize a certain adherence to and interpretation of our scriptures, this selection from Jeremiah seems to imply that religion taken to its farthest moves beyond scriptures and teachings to an inner sort of disposition or wisdom. So, if I can be a little mischievous, one might come to the conclusion that a true fundamentalist should be throwing out the Bible, based on our passage today. (I think Tom Yoder Neufeld from Conrad Grebel University College is the person who cheekily put this thought in my head, so I will give the credit to him.)

Joking aside, today’s reading brings to mind a couple of sayings from the Desert Fathers, the early Christian hermits and monks.

In Scetis a brother went to Moses to ask for advice. He said to him, “Go and sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.”

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Evagrius said that there was a brother who had no possessions except a Gospel book and he sold it in order to feed the poor. He said something worth remembering: “I have sold even the word that commands me to sell all and give to the poor.”

[selections from The Desert Fathers: Sayings of the Early Christian Monks, Trans. Benedicta Ward (London: Penguin Books, 2003).]

Thursday, 5 June, 2014

Thursday, 5 June, 2014

Matthew 9:1-8

There must have been quite a hubbub when (as Mark and Luke report) a paralyzed man was lowered through the roof right to Jesus in the crowded house where he was teaching – a house too crowded to squeeze a man through on a stretcher.  Matthew doesn’t report this but goes right to the essence of the encounter.  Seeing the faith of the people who brought the paralyzed man, Jesus speaks to him, “Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven.”  With this one sentence, Jesus throws off the expectations of everyone there.

First, the big crowds were there because, early in his ministry, Jesus was attracting fame for the miracles of healing he was doing, and the crowds were hoping to see such miracles and perhaps be healed themselves.  This time, instead of mentioning the great faith of the person being healed, the account says that the people who brought him had faith.  Perhaps we are to infer that the paralyzed man himself may not have had very much faith, if any.  We can’t even be sure he wanted to be there, a spectacle in front of the big crowd, since, being paralyzed, he couldn’t control where his friends might take him.

It would be no surprise if someone in that man’s position were totally disillusioned, hopeless, and resentful against everyone, especially against God for abandoning him to his paralysis.  In his culture, it was commonplace to think that physical disabilities were the consequences of sin, so he may even have thought of himself as somehow guilty and already condemned, rejected by people and by God.  What a shock it must have been when Jesus addressed him endearingly as “Son”, telling him to take heart because his sins were forgiven!  Probably, nobody had ever said anything like that to him before.  How his thoughts must now have been in turmoil, even as he still lay there, paralyzed.  Could it really be that this great wonder-worker, Jesus, actually saw him as a worthy person to be loved and honored as “Son”?  Could it be that his sins (in his mind perhaps responsible for his disability) were now actually forgiven?  What a wonder that would be – but how could he know?

As usual, where Jesus went, there were sceptics.  This time, it was scribes, experts in theology and the law, who cared about their own knowledge and authority but not about other people’s troubles.  This time, they concluded to themselves, they had really caught Jesus:  He was blaspheming, since God alone can forgive sins.  Jesus discerned their thoughts and called their attitude what it was: evil.  Jesus used logic against them, pointing out that it’s not convincing just to tell someone their sins are forgiven, since there’s no obvious way to know if that’s true or not.  It’s a lot harder to say “Rise and walk” to a paralytic, since that’s easy to verify.  So that is just what Jesus now told the paralyzed man, who promptly stood up, picked up his cot, and walked out through the amazed crowd.  Indeed, as he demonstrated, Jesus did and still does have the authority on earth to forgive sins.  The crowd understood this, were convinced, and they glorified God.

What about us?  Some of us too are disabled, perhaps physically, perhaps in other ways that distress us, disillusion us, rob us of hope and ability, and leave us feeling abandoned both by people and by God.  Perhaps we sometimes think we are responsible ourselves for our disability, that it is our fault, our sin, that has caused it.  Let us then come to Jesus in prayer, turn to him, and listen to hear him say with grace and love, “Take heart, my child, your sins are forgiven.”  May we, in his presence, experience the forgiveness, healing, and restoration that only he can provide.

And we, who are followers of Jesus, often have friends and neighbors with disabilities and challenges, perhaps physical, often in many other ways.  Let us learn what it is to love and care, like Jesus.  Let us be like the friends of the paralyzed man, working through all the obstacles to bring our disabled friend to Jesus, demonstrating our own faith in Jesus as we do so.  May we, with patience and understanding love, enable our friend to hear the gracious words of Jesus, “Take heart, my child, your sins are forgiven,” words which bring hope, healing, and restoration in the power of Christ.

May we be encouraged in the Lord.

-- Robert Kruse

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Wednesday, June 4, 2014 (Pope John XXIII)
Ephesians 4:1-16

     Today is a rare day on the Anglican calendar, wherein we commemorate the life of a modern-day Pope of the Roman Church! John XXIII (now a Saint in the Roman Catholic Church) was a great reformer, convening the Second Vatican Council.

     From For All the Saints (Toronto: ABC Publishing, 2007):

John XXIII 4 June

Bishop of Rome, Reformer, 1963 — Commemoration

John XXIII convened the second Vatican Council in 1962 and

thereby launched Roman Catholics into the modern renewal of

their Church. We specially remember him because of his ecumenical

concerns. He himself once remarked to an Anglican

priest: “Whenever I see a wall between Christians, I try to pull

out a brick.”

Born as Angelo Roncalli in 1885, he entered seminary at the age

of ten. Ordained priest in 1904, he spent the next decade as secretary

to the bishop of Bergamo, one of the most enlightened

prelates of his time and place.

After the end of the first World War, Roncalli’s career in the

Church developed rapidly. In 1934 he was appointed Apostolic

Delegate in Turkey and Greece. His predecessors in the post

had confined their dealings with the Orthodox to official business;

Roncalli went out of his way to develop cordial relations

with the Oecumenical Patriarch himself.

During the second World War, Roncalli used his office as Apostolic

Delegate to help Jews escape from German control, and

towards the end of the war he arranged relief supplies for the

starving Greeks. In 1944 he was appointed Papal Nuncio to the

newly liberated France, and nine years later was made Patriarch

of Venice.

Roncalli was elected Pope in 1958, and took the name John

XXIII. At the age of seventy-three, he had been chosen as a

“caretaker” Pope. But John quickly made it clear that he did not

intend to doze in the Chair of Peter. He inaugurated a series of

administrative reforms and established the Secretariat for Promoting

Christian Unity. Then, on October 11, 1962, he opened

the second Vatican Council.

At about this time John was told that he had an inoperable cancer.

He replied: “Don’t worry about me, because my bags are

packed. I’m ready to go.” Undeterred by his illness, he spent

the last months of his life mediating between American and

Soviet leaders in order to broaden the scope of their nucleardisarmament

talks. He died in early June, 1963.

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     You might also find the following post, by my friend Dr. Greg Hillis of Bellarmine University, perhaps the Manny Lee or Ernie Whitt of the patristics world. It originally appeared in December 2013 on his excellent blog, My Unquiet Heart.

Thomas Merton & Blessed Pope John XXIII

Today is the 45th anniversary of Thomas Merton's death.  I've written elsewhere about Merton's impact on me in my early 20's.  After reading The Seven Storey Mountain when I was 23, I scrambled to read everything I could by Merton, and was particularly taken with his journals (I still consider his autobiographical writings to be his best stuff).  I was so smitten with Merton, in fact, that in a moment of youthful exuberance I had a drawing by Merton tattooed on my shoulder; the drawing is of a monk. (On a side note, my kids love this tattoo and address the monk on my shoulder simply as "Tom".)

I now find myself at Bellarmine University, at which the Merton Center - the official repository of Merton's literary and artistic estate - is located, and I live a short 45 minute drive from the Abbey of Gethsemani, which I visit regularly, often with students.  Honestly, I can't believe my luck.

I'm currently working on a project on Cyril of Alexandria that I hope to finish very soon, after which my goal is to devote far more time to reading and writing about Merton.  Not long ago I went to a lecture by Michael Higgins on Merton and Pope John XXIII.  It led me to look up some of Merton's thoughts on Pope John XXIII in his journals, and I was struck by how much his reaction to John XXIII mirrors the reaction of so many to Pope Francis.  On this "Feast Day" of Merton, therefore, I thought I'd quote his thoughts on the soon to be canonized pope, both at the beginning of his pontificate and at the end.

Less than two weeks after Pope John XXIII's election, Merton writes:

John XXIII seems to me to be a most wonderful Pope and I love him already very much - he is a kind of simple person with a lot of good sense and all of a sudden he seems to me, for this, for his simplicity, to be a great man and I cannot help feeling right away that perhaps he is a saint.  My kind of saint - who smokes a cigarette after dinner. (I have got over the idea that this would immediately disqualify him - that went out ten years ago.)

And upon learning of John XXIII's death, he writes:

May he rest in peace, this great and good Father, whom I certainly loved, and who has been good to me, sending me the stole and many blessings.  And I don't think he has stopped being a father to us, to me.  He will one day be canonized, I think (if we last that long), and I do not hesitate to ask for his intercession now.

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     Those who have read Merton's famous autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, will know that the young Merton was rather judgemental regarding the Anglican Church. Thankfully, he warmed to it over the years. In writing to a reader in the 1960s, Merton comments that "[i]t is, unfortunately, so easy and so usual simply to compare the dark side of someone else's Church with the bright side of one's own. Thank heaven we are getting over that now, I hope."

     Even though things might move slower than we'd like, thank heaven we are moving in some bright directions, and thank heaven for saints like John XXIII, who are bold enough to look forward and outward.

 - Matthew Kieswetter

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Psalm 94

O God, by the blood of Christian martyrs you planted in the heart of Uganda the seed of a strong and living Church, and you confirmed its growth under the hand of tyranny by the witness of your servant Janani Luwum. May we who cherish their remembrance before you be valiant in our witness against the terrors of unjust rulers and remain steadfast in the love by which you bind us to yourself; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.  Amen.

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Martyrs of Uganda  1886

Janani Luwum

Archbishop of Uganda, 1977 — Memorial

The nation of Uganda lies in equatorial Africa; its south- eastern border runs along the shores of Lake Victoria. Euro- pean explorers and missionaries first came upon the peoples of the area in the 1860’s. Especially along Lake Victoria, in the region known as Buganda, they found a highly sophisticated society, a federation of kindred tribes under an hereditary monarch called the kabaka. Christian missionaries, both Anglican and Roman Catholic, found a ready hearing among small but important groups of the Bugandan nation. The growing strength and influence of the Christian presence led the kabaka, Mwanga, to launch a vicious persecution in 1885. This persecution culminated in a holocaust of Anglican and Roman Catholic converts at Namugongo on June 3, 1886. All told, some forty-five Ugandans suffered death for the sake of Christ. Their witness proved to be the seed of the Ugandan church, and by the time Uganda gained independence, it was the most Christian nation in Africa. Indeed, there were more Anglicans in Uganda than in any other church of the Anglican communion.

But history has a way of repeating itself. In 1972 Colonel Idi Amin overthrew the elected government of Uganda, and his regime soon became infamous throughout the world for its atrocities. But there was one structure which Amin could not control by means of terror — the Church of Uganda. The Anglican archbishop was Janani Luwum — a gentle, cheerful man, whose instincts were all toward loyalty and political non- involvement. But Amin’s injustices finally moved Luwum to protest. On February sixteenth, 1977, he was ordered to meet Amin in a personal interview. That same night, after presenting a formal protest on behalf of the Church and in the name of Christ, Luwum was murdered. So we remember Janani Luwum with the Martyrs of Uganda who perished in 1886, for he shared in their witness to the love and inviolable justice of God in Christ Jesus.

[From For All the Saints, Toronto: ABC Publishing, 2007]

Monday, June 2, 2014

Monday, June 2, 2014

Joshua 1:1-9

Many scholars have considered the book of Joshua to be connected to the Torah, the first five books of the Bible. In a lot of ways it is a sequel to the book of Deuteronomy, just as the book of Acts is a natural continuation of the Gospel of Luke. Other scholars frame Joshua as a progression in the telling of Israel’s history, which goes through to 1 and 2 Kings. The book completes the story of God’s chosen people and their journey from slavery in Egypt to life in the Promised Land. Moses and Aaron have died, and Joshua has succeeded his mentor Moses, as guide and military leader of the people. 

Joshua is a book that some have described as ‘problematic.’ It is incredibly violent. One wants to see the settling of the Promised Land as a happy ending, but Joshua describes in detail the killing that is done in order to claim the Caananite territories. If one reads it uncritically, one might interpret it as a justification for ‘holy war’ and genocide. The book of Joshua gives the impression that settlement was easy (dirty, but quick), whereas if you skip ahead to the book of Judges, you’ll get another picture. In Judges the settlement of the land seems to be more gradual. Joshua was likely written or edited during or soon after the Babylonian exile, so the violence that makes us cringe was probably meant to create a unified sense of identity for a downtrodden people. Maybe the original hearers were probably conscious of this, and perhaps able to read the text without falling into a dangerous literalism.

In spite of the violence of the book, there are still lessons that we can learn, and truths that the book can open up inside of us. Verse 9 resonates with me: “Go strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” (NRSV). There is much about group dynamics and leadership that we might learn by studying the wandering of the people in the desert, and the transition from Moses to Joshua. Some see the Church as having been wandering through a sort of desert over the past few decades. One fellow postulant with our Diocese recently mentioned to me that she felt “called to something that doesn’t yet exist.” It might seem that we are wandering through the desert, sometimes grumbling (and dying off) as we move along. But today’s reading reminds us that God is with us, and will raise up new leaders as necessary. Let’s move forward in and with faith. 

- Matthew Kieswetter

Ezekiel 3:1-12

Each September, for the last several years, I've been part of the audience for Asphalt Jungle Shorts.  We walk through streets, alleys, buildings, and restaurants in downtown Kitchener and encounter actors performing street theatre.  We've "overheard" a couple on a date in a restaurant, eavesdropped on "crows" discussing road kill, and once listened to "God" under an store awning.  "At the intersection of theatre and reality" is more than this theatre group's tagline - its what its like when public spaces become theatre space.  As audience members we may wonder, "Is that person by the trash can a homeless person or an actor portraying a homeless person?"  Imagine how disconcerting it can be for people who are not part of the audience!  Why is that person talking so loudly in the bus shelter?  And why are all those other people standing around listening?

Some of the biblical prophets specialized in street theatre; prophets like Ezekiel who was among a large group of exiles taken to Babylon.  In today's reading, we hear the story about when Ezekiel ate a scroll (fortunately for Ezekiel, it "was as sweet as honey").  He digested God's word to the house of Israel and then, time and time again, acted out that word - whether the people listened or not.  In chapter 4 we hear how he drew a picture of Jerusalem under siege on a clay tablet and placed so it could be seen by the people as they walked along the street.  Then he lay in the streets on his left side for 390 days and on his right side for 40 days to symbolize the captivity of northern Israel and southern Judah - city streets at the intersection of theatre and reality.  In chapter 12 we hear about the prophet packing his bags as if he was being sent into exile. During the day he went about the city streets with his baggage so everyone could see that he was planning to leave and then in the evening, while everyone was still watching, he dug an opening in the wall as if he were escaping, put his bag over his shoulder, and carried it out into the dark.  In the morning, presumably when he returned to the city, the people ask, "What are you doing?".  He explains that he is a living sign and that the people remaining in Jerusalem will go into exile just like he had acted out - city streets at the intersection of theatre and reality.

About a year ago, at St. John's in downtown Kitchener, we installed hundreds of empty single use water bottles among the trees along Water Street.  They represented the number of these bottles disposed of every minute in our region.  We didn't lay in the streets, but we did post signs telling the story of the impact of bottled water and of God's word to let "justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.  Read about this project here.

How do we "eat" God's word to us?  How are we living signs intersecting with the realities of our city streets - or wherever we find ourselves?

Marilyn Malton