Palm Sunday has passed: Jesus has entered Jerusalem to shouts of "Hosanna," and now we're getting ready for the Passover feast.
Father David spoke about how we need to walk through the gates with Jesus so that we, too, can taste salvation. How little we need to do to receive the promise of God's everlasting love! Like the prodigal son, all we have to do is take that little step -- to realize that we've strayed -- and God the Father will come running to embrace us while we are still just a speck on the horizon. One little step to follow Jesus through the gates and we will be with him through it all!
When you put it like that, it sounds so easy. But it isn't. It's easy to take that first step through the gates when people are cheering for you, when they're throwing their cloaks and palms in front of your procession. It isn't so easy to walk through those gates when you know everything that's coming after.
Jesus could so easily have stayed outside the city, refused to step forward into a crowd he knew would turn on him so quickly. But knowing all the pain that would follow, he did it anyway.
This Holy Week, that's the same choice we all have to make: to step through the gates into all of it, or to stay outside. To be with Jesus in his glory we have to be with him in his suffering.
He went through it all because of his love for us. In the same way, we have to be willing to make sacrifices in Jesus' name. We, too, must be willing to love Jesus as he loved us. We must be willing to make the hard choices that come from following Jesus -- our Lord who was willing to suffer death, even death on the Cross. Our Lord who was highly exalted because he stepped through those gates, leaving behind him the palm leaves and the cloaks, trampled into the dust by the feet of his donkey and by his followers.
What do the gates of discipleship look like today?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
All Things New
Jeff's sermon on Sunday talked about newness. He pointed out that there are two ways of being new that aren't exactly the same. The first way of being new is exemplified by the 'new car': it has that great new-car smell, it never drives better than when you take it off the lot, it's shiny and you can definitely show it off to everyone. There's absolutely nothing negative about this kind of newness -- except, of course, the possibility that something newer and better will come along.
The second way of being new is best captured by the new pair of shoes: it's great to have new shoes, but the first few times you wear them are murder. You have to break them in a bit before they're really comfortable. Hypothetically, it's possible to keep your new shoes forever if you keep repairing them and fixing the scuffs, but it takes a lot of work. Making your old shoes 'new' again also means going through a bit of discomfort, both when they really need repair and when you're getting used to the new adjustments.
The second way of being new is a little ambiguous, because there are parts of it that aren't easy. You miss your old, comfy shoes even though you're happy with the new ones.
It's always easy for me to think of Easter as a season of newness -- new life, Resurrection, new start, new ministry. But the idea of the new shoes reminds me that Lent, too, is a season of newness. It's a difficult time for a lot of people, myself included, because it involves sacrifice and a re-evaluation of the lives we're living. It's uncomfortable. But this Lenten discomfort is also a renewal as we strive to live in the way of the Cross.
Lent exemplifies the truth that God is making all things new because it calls us to put on that uncomfortable pair of new shoes, challenging us in a way that makes us better followers of Christ.
What does newness feel like to you?
The second way of being new is best captured by the new pair of shoes: it's great to have new shoes, but the first few times you wear them are murder. You have to break them in a bit before they're really comfortable. Hypothetically, it's possible to keep your new shoes forever if you keep repairing them and fixing the scuffs, but it takes a lot of work. Making your old shoes 'new' again also means going through a bit of discomfort, both when they really need repair and when you're getting used to the new adjustments.
The second way of being new is a little ambiguous, because there are parts of it that aren't easy. You miss your old, comfy shoes even though you're happy with the new ones.
It's always easy for me to think of Easter as a season of newness -- new life, Resurrection, new start, new ministry. But the idea of the new shoes reminds me that Lent, too, is a season of newness. It's a difficult time for a lot of people, myself included, because it involves sacrifice and a re-evaluation of the lives we're living. It's uncomfortable. But this Lenten discomfort is also a renewal as we strive to live in the way of the Cross.
Lent exemplifies the truth that God is making all things new because it calls us to put on that uncomfortable pair of new shoes, challenging us in a way that makes us better followers of Christ.
What does newness feel like to you?
Monday, March 15, 2010
Two Lost Sons
This Sunday we heard the story of the prodigal son from Father Tony Harvey, who came back to celebrate Eucharist for us. His message was that there are two lost sons, and not just one.
The reconciliation between the father and his youngest son is the clearest instance of forgiveness in the story. He led a life of debauchery, realized it, felt sorry for it, and returned in humility. He was lost but now is found, was dead, but now alive.
During Saturday's Bible study, Stéphane talked about the price the father had to pay in forgiving his son. He was humiliated in his community when the son asked for his property, and again when he accepted back the son who had challenged his patriarchy. Giving forgiveness came at a high cost, but he did it anyway, without hesitating. How much greater is the price paid for us! God so loved the world that he gave His only Son, that through faith in him we may have eternal life!
In the story of this younger son, it's easy for us to see a parable of extraordinary conversion and forgiveness -- by experiencing God, people's entire lives are radically changed. It's what we envision when we think about receiving Jesus' unfailing love in the sacrifice on the Cross.
But the firstborn son is equally lost, even though he's done the right thing all his life. He is angry that his father forgives his brother -- angry that his father gives things to his brother he feels he hasn't received.
The firstborn son has forgotten that everything his father has is his: he's forgotten that he's already received the lion's share. He, too, needs to be reconciled with the father.
Most of us are like the firstborn son: we haven't done anything spectacularly wrong, and we can remind ourselves of everything we've done right. And this is what makes it so dangerous for us -- it's hard to see ourselves as needing forgiveness when our separation from God is invisible; it's hard to accept forgiveness if we don't know how to admit we've done anything wrong.
We all need to experience God's healing love and accept that love in our hearts. This, of course, is easier said than done. It's difficult because we have to admit to ourselves, to God, and to one another that we are separated from God by sin.
By his death on the Cross, Jesus paid our overwhelming debt. The same debt is owed by each and every one of us, regardless of who we are or the lives we have led. And that same Cross is our reconciliation with God, if we have the courage to embrace it.
How do you think we as a community can best exercises a ministry of reconciliation?
The reconciliation between the father and his youngest son is the clearest instance of forgiveness in the story. He led a life of debauchery, realized it, felt sorry for it, and returned in humility. He was lost but now is found, was dead, but now alive.
During Saturday's Bible study, Stéphane talked about the price the father had to pay in forgiving his son. He was humiliated in his community when the son asked for his property, and again when he accepted back the son who had challenged his patriarchy. Giving forgiveness came at a high cost, but he did it anyway, without hesitating. How much greater is the price paid for us! God so loved the world that he gave His only Son, that through faith in him we may have eternal life!
In the story of this younger son, it's easy for us to see a parable of extraordinary conversion and forgiveness -- by experiencing God, people's entire lives are radically changed. It's what we envision when we think about receiving Jesus' unfailing love in the sacrifice on the Cross.
But the firstborn son is equally lost, even though he's done the right thing all his life. He is angry that his father forgives his brother -- angry that his father gives things to his brother he feels he hasn't received.
The firstborn son has forgotten that everything his father has is his: he's forgotten that he's already received the lion's share. He, too, needs to be reconciled with the father.
Most of us are like the firstborn son: we haven't done anything spectacularly wrong, and we can remind ourselves of everything we've done right. And this is what makes it so dangerous for us -- it's hard to see ourselves as needing forgiveness when our separation from God is invisible; it's hard to accept forgiveness if we don't know how to admit we've done anything wrong.
We all need to experience God's healing love and accept that love in our hearts. This, of course, is easier said than done. It's difficult because we have to admit to ourselves, to God, and to one another that we are separated from God by sin.
By his death on the Cross, Jesus paid our overwhelming debt. The same debt is owed by each and every one of us, regardless of who we are or the lives we have led. And that same Cross is our reconciliation with God, if we have the courage to embrace it.
How do you think we as a community can best exercises a ministry of reconciliation?
Friday, March 12, 2010
Letter To The Editor
Jeff Alexander wrote this letter to the editor, which appeared in Thursday's Montreal Gazette (March 11):
Re: James firm on niqabs in French class.
So Immigration Minister Yolande James has dug in her heels over the niqab ban in French classes, claiming such garments are against "our" values. Can we expect an elaboration on a) what this ambiguous set of values includes, and b) how many Quebecers are part of "our"?
Canadian values are outlined in two essential documents: the Criminal Code of Canada and the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
Does the wearing of the niqab clearly contravene either the Criminal Code or the Charter? I agree that there are clear examples where identity is essential. Applying for a legal document and testifying in court come to mind. But a French class? Naema Ahmed would be hurting only herself and her ability to master French by hiding pronunciation and other visual cues of conversation.
If a government can curb the rights of an individual based on nebulous societal "values" that I might or might not share, I wonder what other activities in which I am currently engaged or beliefs that I hold also fall outside of them. Can I expect an MNA to speak out against the cross I wear around my neck or the fact that I read a Bible on the commuter train?
Re: James firm on niqabs in French class.
So Immigration Minister Yolande James has dug in her heels over the niqab ban in French classes, claiming such garments are against "our" values. Can we expect an elaboration on a) what this ambiguous set of values includes, and b) how many Quebecers are part of "our"?
Canadian values are outlined in two essential documents: the Criminal Code of Canada and the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
Does the wearing of the niqab clearly contravene either the Criminal Code or the Charter? I agree that there are clear examples where identity is essential. Applying for a legal document and testifying in court come to mind. But a French class? Naema Ahmed would be hurting only herself and her ability to master French by hiding pronunciation and other visual cues of conversation.
If a government can curb the rights of an individual based on nebulous societal "values" that I might or might not share, I wonder what other activities in which I am currently engaged or beliefs that I hold also fall outside of them. Can I expect an MNA to speak out against the cross I wear around my neck or the fact that I read a Bible on the commuter train?
Monday, March 8, 2010
The Difference Makers
Throughout the Olympics we watched athletes achieve extraordinary things, sometimes in the midst of great adversity. Before some of their events, broadcasters aired vignettes about their lives -- about the "difference makers" who were so important in helping them reach their dreams. One was a great coach, while one was a mother who supported her child moving away from home so she could perfect her talent. There were the local men who'd taught a biathlete to shoot and who made sure she had the resources to succeed. Yet another was a speed-skater who suffered a horrible accident but who was determined to one day train again: though he did not make it to these games, his courage inspired his friend to keep going and reach for the goal they had shared.
This Sunday, Father David talked about how we, too, are called to be difference makers.
One example he used was Ananias, a man whose name probably leaves you thinking: "who?" After Saul / Paul is blinded by the revelation of Christ, this man is sent to him by God, even though Paul has been persecuting the Jesus followers with a fervor rivaled only by his devotion to God (Acts 9:10-19). Ananias, though doubtless terrified, went and found Paul. Who knows what would have happened to the course of Christianity if he hadn't! Maybe Paul would not have become the Apostle of Grace; maybe we'd still be hiding from persecution.
Ananias, by trusting in God, changed the course of history and promptly disappeared into anonymity. We never hear about him again, and no one knows what happened to him. He may not have won a gold medal, but he certainly was a difference maker!
Not everyone is called to greatness: we do not all command public attention and acclaim, and we do not all shape the history of our faith. But we are all called to bear fruit for the Kingdom and to be difference makers.
We may not know, at the time, that we are making a difference. Nor may we even be consciously trying to make one. Maybe it's something as simple as wearing a cross, as telling people you go to church, as inviting someone to share a meal, as letting someone pass in front of you, as buying fair-trade coffee, as bearing a child.
So long as we live the Gospel in our lives, it shines out from us in ways we can't begin to see or imagine. Our faith is a gift from God and has all the power of God behind it. By living our lives as Christians, we are changing the world! God is at work in us for His good pleasure, and if we allow Him to tend us we will bear much good fruit.
What does being a difference maker mean to you?
This Sunday, Father David talked about how we, too, are called to be difference makers.
One example he used was Ananias, a man whose name probably leaves you thinking: "who?" After Saul / Paul is blinded by the revelation of Christ, this man is sent to him by God, even though Paul has been persecuting the Jesus followers with a fervor rivaled only by his devotion to God (Acts 9:10-19). Ananias, though doubtless terrified, went and found Paul. Who knows what would have happened to the course of Christianity if he hadn't! Maybe Paul would not have become the Apostle of Grace; maybe we'd still be hiding from persecution.
Ananias, by trusting in God, changed the course of history and promptly disappeared into anonymity. We never hear about him again, and no one knows what happened to him. He may not have won a gold medal, but he certainly was a difference maker!
Not everyone is called to greatness: we do not all command public attention and acclaim, and we do not all shape the history of our faith. But we are all called to bear fruit for the Kingdom and to be difference makers.
We may not know, at the time, that we are making a difference. Nor may we even be consciously trying to make one. Maybe it's something as simple as wearing a cross, as telling people you go to church, as inviting someone to share a meal, as letting someone pass in front of you, as buying fair-trade coffee, as bearing a child.
So long as we live the Gospel in our lives, it shines out from us in ways we can't begin to see or imagine. Our faith is a gift from God and has all the power of God behind it. By living our lives as Christians, we are changing the world! God is at work in us for His good pleasure, and if we allow Him to tend us we will bear much good fruit.
What does being a difference maker mean to you?
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