(Ir)Reverend Ramblings

So, yesterday I wrote a blog about shifting the narrative. Believe me, I am working on that! The idea was prompted by a blog I read recently that a friend had posted on Facebook. It began, “I want to go to a dying church …” and proceeded to talk about the richness of congregational life even when many would point to those very elements as signs of failure.

Like many United Churches, our congregation lives faithfully but looks around to see mostly gray heads in the pews. We are grateful for the clutch of children and youth that gather each Sunday morning. We feel sorrow when someone leaves for one reason or another because we miss them and notice that they are gone. And we tire when we hear of the raging success of the evangelical church up the road that has a parking problem because so many people crowd their parking lot and clamour to get to their worship of rock music and “Bible-based preaching” (I put that in quotes because … well because most of my readers will understand that I don’t think much of that preaching is really in the spirit of the Bible …)

I think success is based on being faithful and keeping honest to our calling to follow Christ. Jesus did not preach prosperity and success by numbers. He talked about small things – leaven in a loaf, mustard seeds. He said, “When two or three are gathered…” Jesus did not talk about success in terms of numbers of souls saved or rich financial security he talked about reaching out to the ones on the margins and living a humble life.

The blog post, which was written by someone named Keith Lewis, says, “I want to go to a church that made hard choices” “I want to go to a church that chose love,”. “That’s what I want my children to learn about God.”

I don’t know who Keith Lewis is but I am grateful to him for expressing my deep held belief that it is too easy for church people to measure success based on popularity when we should be using faithfulness as our yardstick.

It may be that I just had my birthday. It may be that the winter seems unending. It may be that the news is wearing me down. It may be that my resolutions from January are long-forgotten and I feel caught in a cycle of incompetence. But I have been telling myself for the last few days that I need to change the narrative that keeps running through my head. Somehow I need to shift from grief to gratitude, from disappointment to delight, from duty to opportunity.

I am not sure how to do this but I feel like many aspects of my life need a shift from the negative to the positive. And it is not just me. I think our country needs a shift. The recent Teacher’s Strike has me down – tempers are heating up and respect is being jeopardized on every side – and there are several sides to the story. Likewise, the protesting regarding the construction on the Wet’suwet’en Territory feels like a long way from reconciliation. In each of these cases the arguments get reduced to money and costs and economy but the issue is much bigger and deeper than that. We need to shift the narrative. It is not just about money, there is a bigger story here.

I am trying to figure out how to shift my own narrative so I can’t begin to shift the province’s or the country’s. That takes the imagination of many and the concerted effort of all to make a difference. But I am still trying to figure out my own shifting and here is what I have come up with. Step back. Wait. Listen. Ponder. Purposefully say “no” to one narrative and “yes” to another. And do not letting another’s negativity prejudice my own thinking.

As a disciple of Christ I have a great role model. Jesus spent his life shifting the narrative. His many encounters, maybe even his every encounter, changed how people thought or acted. It wasn’t easy for him. He ran into conflict. He was doubted. He was laughed at. He made people angry. And when those things happened he went away to a quiet place and prayed to renew his strength. He was steadfast even when it wasn’t popular. I am committed to shifting my narrative and gratitude, delight and opportunity will be my way of being … as best I can.

This morning, as I drove to work, I listened to The Current on CBC radio. Host Matt Galloway was interviewing a salesman for private jets. The article was about the rise in the sale of private jets in the face of the climate crisis. There were many of things about the interview that were of great interest to me and I was astounded by some of the things I learned. (You can hear it on the podcast) But one phrase has stayed with me through the day. When asked why people feel the need to own their own jet the salesperson said that many of the wealthy who own these jets are very busy people and “owning their own jet helps them manufacture time”.

Wow, who knew that you could “manufacture time”? How does one go about “manufacturing time”? This is a remarkable achievement and I am surprised that it hasn’t been commercialized. I would love to have more time! Here it is nearing the end of the afternoon and I still have a lot of things on my ‘To Do List’. If only I could manufacture some more time and get these tasks crossed off.

Of course my reactive comments are said with tongue firmly in cheek! Ridiculous! You do not manufacture time, even if you are wealthy enough to own your own jet! No amount of money can buy you that ability. But it has left me pondering what is it about our culture that drives such a notion? Don’t worry, I am not being naive or insincere. I say this as I feel the pressure of that ‘To Do List’. I feel the pressure of too much to do and too little time just as much as anyone else. Why do I clog my life up with so many things that I can’t just breathe?

I know it is too late for New Year’s Resolution but here and now I am going to resolve to consider what the busy-ness is that keeps me running on the treadmill. I am going to check myself when I keep adding more things to my calendar. I am going to take some time and spend it with those people, doing those things that restore my soul.

As I write this I am remembering that often when the disciples were in a flap and went looking for Jesus because there were things to do and people to see, they often found him off by himself praying. That Jesus – what a role model! I am signing off and going home… to read a book …. to listen to music …. Ahhhh, I feel better already.

Yep, it is day 3 of the new year and I still feel sluggish, confused as to what day it is and, did I say, sluggish?. The socializing and eating marathon of the festive season has now pretty much passed. Perhaps there will be a few soirees this weekend for Epiphany but most people are taking down the decorations, throwing out the last of the leftovers and stowing away the new socks and sweaters. So how was your season? Did it meet your expectations? Did you sing every carol at least twice? Did you see every one you wanted to see? Did you avoid political arguments at the dinner table? Did you make resolutions?

As I lolled about during the days between Christmas and New Year’s Day I got to thinking about traditions. This is a season laden with tradition – some traditions spread across the cultures and come from ages of story telling and generations of repetition. In this I am thinking about exchanging gifts and family gathering. Other traditions are quite specific to each family. One family I know would always go to church on Christmas Eve and then go home and order in Chinese food. It seemed odd to me but that was their tradition. Some traditions are enduring – like singing carols and eating shortbread while others happen once but then are cemented into the family’s shared memory of “this is how we ALWAYS do Christmas”. Some we love, like decorating the tree and some are endured, like having turnip for Christmas dinner.

Whatever the tradition, it is a tradition because it brings echoes of years passed. Traditions stir memories of gatherings from the years gone by. Through those memories reverberates the voices of the elders and the ancestors. I think traditions are important – even ones we don’t like – because we need to feel that connection with history, specifically our history. Some how traditions and history root us. Roots keep us stable. Roots help us grow. This of course brings me to fresh starts and new life and the new year.

What’s up for you for 2020? What of 2019 will you carry with you? What will you drop to the wayside as you begin the new journey? Are you carrying good rich traditions or is it baggage that you can’t shake off? Any watershed moment is a good time for reflection and re-calibrating. Fresh start, new page, new chapter, uncharted waters … how ever you want to describe it – it is now and it is yours. May you be blessed with many opportunities.

December 23rd in a minister’s life means making sure everything is ready for Christmas Eve. That does not mean, “Are the cookies ready for Santa and are the presents all under the tree”. That happens too, it is a given. It means making sure the readers are prepped for the services, that the candles are ready for the candle lighting, that the bulletins are in place and the many volunteers that make the hospitality happen are primed and ready.

The important part of making a service seamless is in all the preparation that happens ahead of time. Preparation that most people know nothing about. I have been emailing and texting and phoning throughout the day and am now assured that the many, many disciples I count on to welcome our Christmas Eve congregations are ready for tomorrow night. My colleague, Jen has been doing the same thing, as she is planning and coordinating the family services.

We have three services on Christmas Eve. Over the course of the evening we will have over 500 people gather to hear the ancient and beautiful story that tells of God’s great love incarnated in the person of Jesus those many years ago. That means, counting ushers and choir and readers and bulletin folders and offering counters and candle wranglers, there will be over 50 volunteers contributing to the hospitality of the evening. I think that is a remarkable show of dedication! I am so grateful for those who contribute so selflessly of their time so that all will feel welcomed to celebrate the birth of Christ.

Tomorrow night, carols will be sung, scripture will be read, greetings will be shared. There will be a feeling of peace and harmony. We will also be reminded that Christ was born into difficult and frightening circumstances with grinding poverty and political unrest. Many of the fluffy Christmas stories miss the painful reality of that first nativity. God came to people of low estate and little consequence despite the message of God’s birthing into humanity could not be stopped. The same thing will happen again this year. Those who need most to hear the message of God’s love will have ears to hear and the angels will sing again.

December 22, Sunday night, is the winter solstice or the longest night of the year for those of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere. The sun will rise at 7:48 and set in the afternoon at 4:43 giving us 8 hours 55 minutes and 46 seconds of sunlight. That means a full two thirds of our 24 hour day will be in darkness. On Monday the day will be longer by .04 seconds. Not much of an addition but .04 seconds marks the turn when nights get shorter and days get longer.

How do you feel about these long nights when darkness is the steady companion and daylight seems a fickle friend? For some people this time of year brings on depression because their whole body is effected by the lack of sunlight and their mood gets heavy with the darkness. For some of us darkness brings a kind of peace and a sense of deepening, a spiritual hibernation when we can burrow into our souls and discover what God is holding for us there.

The scriptures at this time of year are filled with angels visiting. Angels come in night skies, they come in desert places and dark stables and they come in dreams as people slumber and sleep. Angels find us in the night and in the depth of darkness insight comes. This is true on an allegorical level, a spiritual level and in a practical human level. Revelation often comes when we are pushed to a place of needing to slow down, (think illness) when protection is stripped away (think times of personal angst) when supports are pulled out (think grief). It is in these dark times of the soul that we learn lessons of strength and courage and perseverance. We don’t want to go to those dark places but as surely as the earth moves around the sun so do those times come to each of us. From my own experience and from what others have told me, we are often most open to God in those times of mystic vulnerability.

So dear readers, my prayer for you is that this weekend you can go into the long dark night and see what dream God is holding for you.

The political situation in many parts of the world seems to be in upheaval. The British continue to struggle to find a way to exit. The President of the US tweets angry comments to a 16 year-old climate activist. And, here at home, Andrew Scheer has resigned, launching a time of resetting the course for the Conservative Party. Turmoil and uncertainty abound.

I have comments I could make about politicians (!) but that is not the purpose of this blog. There are lots of other blogs you can go to for that. What it leaves me thinking about, and what I want to share, is wrestling with the question as to how I handle upheaval and uncertainty? And more than that, where is God in the uncertainty and upheaval of life?

I have been fortunate to have had a pretty stable life. Of course, I have known disappointment and grief. I have felt used by some and overlooked by others but the counterbalance is I am healthy, educated, and have resources needed to deal with challenges. But still upheaval can be, well, difficult. And what I have been thinking about this afternoon is that the hardest times are when things are out of our control. Today two people spoke privately to me. They asked for prayer. They asked me to think of them in their time of wrestling. One is facing urgent medical tests due to unexplained problems and there is a hint that this is serious. The word tumour was used and this person is scared. The other person spoke on behalf neighbours and the upset and trauma faced by drug use. Addictions are so hard and we often feel helpless to know how to support or respond in the face of it.

I do pray and I do believe that relief can come with prayer. I believe that support for individuals can be found when they know that others are praying for them and with them. I know what a difference it has made to me when someone has said, “I am praying for you.”

We have started a regular prayer circle at the church. every Tuesday morning at 9:30 we gather, whoever wishes to, to sit in silence and hold this time of corporate prayer. Those who cannot make it into the building pray at home during that same block of time. For me prayer is a touchstone, a place for me to settle in times of uncertainty and upheaval. To enter into conversation with the Holy Other, to have a sense of that mystery that is bigger and beyond me is both comforting and empowering. Sometimes prayer comes when I am sitting quietly and sometimes it comes when I am shoveling snow! Sometimes prayer flows most easily when I am by myself and others times when I am with others. In the end, who and when, and where does not really matter. What matters is the what – the connection with that mystery that is beyond me. That source of energy and strength that can hold me in times of upheaval and uncertainty. For that I am grateful.

Like many of you I scurried off to the theatre to see the film “A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood” starring Tom Hanks and Matthew Rhys. It was not quite what I expected as the film really centered on the character Lloyd Vogel, played by Rhys and his relationship with his father. Don’t worry I am not going to tell you the story. No spoiler alert needed! But I will tell you that the opening scene with Mr. Rogers quickly introduces the word forgiveness into the dialogue. The movie is well worth seeing and I recommend it to you.

I have written about Fred Rogers before. Our “Films That Make You Think” group watched the documentary about hims entitled, “Won’t You Be My Neighbour”. Fred Rogers was a Presbyterian ministry, ordained to the ministry of children’s presenter and educator. He devoted his life to helping children understand hard and difficult things in life; things like violence and racism and divorce.

I saw Tom Hanks interviewed on one of the talk shows recently. He is making the rounds promoting the movie. He talked about Fred Rogers and explained that he had to listen to tapes and watch old episodes to get the slow measure of speech and develop the cadence of Mr. Roger’s voice. Hanks explained that one of the ‘take-aways’ from his research on Fred Rogers was the reminder “WAIT”. When asked to explain he said that Mr. Rogers lived with the reminder WAIT – which in his mind stood for, “Why Am I Talking”. Going on to say that you learn a lot more about a person if you listen than if you talk. Mr. Rogers was a slow talker and a big listener. He touched many people with kindness, openness and understanding.

I am going to try and remember to WAIT and see what I will learn as I do.

Saturday was our annual Christmas Marketplace. We have been holding this for a few years now and every year it gets bigger and better. Every available space in the building is put to good use. The auditorium holds the bake table and the craft table and the lunch room. The Conference Room has the Book Sale while the Seminar Room has the Silent Auction. Upstairs in the Sanctuary is the Jewelry section and the Art Display. The Lobby has the kids’ Loonie Draw and the CD and DVD sales as well as the preserve table and this year the addition of Mrs. Claus decorating cookies and Santa Claus offering a space to sit so you could take a selfie with the jolly old elf himself. If you aren’t too exhausted yet you can go upstairs to the Upper hall to see all the ‘treasures’ that others are done with but you can’t live without and then make your way into the Christmas Room where decorations and Christmas paraphernalia abounds. But before you go don’t forget to pick up your Christmas swag to hand on your door or light post. Yes, indeed, there is something for everyone and all the while you shop church musicians bring you toe-tapping music. It is a day of fun.

While fund raising is part of the goal and we are always proud of how well we did. The main purpose of the day is to build community both within and outside of the church community. We love welcoming people from the community, both Bracebridge folk and those from farther afield, through our doors. Last Saturday there was such a positive vibe, a good old fashioned greeting and sharing and connecting. Sure, we made money but the best part of the day was the feeling of people being together and enjoying one another’s companionship. Sure people went home happy with bargains and treasures but mostly we were thrilled they went home happy!

For the past few years I have taken the lead at the Bake Table. When the morning began we were overflowing with cookies and muffins, pies and cakes, breads and treats like granola and nuts and bolts were there too. There was a mountain of treats and by the end of the day most everything was gone. This year, like every year, the date squares and the shortbread were the first things to get snapped up!

The Christmas Marketplace requires a huge amount of planning and work. It takes many hours of volunteer time to make it happen. How thrilling that it is such a success in building the spirit of community and cooperation. It was a great day! And yes, we made money – about $20,000. Awesome!

Last night I had a parade of spooky and entertaining visitors to my door. A mermaid dropped in, a cute little skunk sprayed me with air freshener from under her curled tail, a box of french fries and a bottle of ketchup thanked me politely for the chocolate bars I shelled out, and two tall and impressive dragons smiled from ear to ear as they held up their candy bags. It was a fun night and despite the dire weather predictions the promised deluge of rain turned into a scotch mist and the moderated temperature meant many layers were not required under the costumes.

Halloween falls on the day before All Saints Day. That is no accident. Many Christian festivals were built around already existing festivals. The Celts, sensitive to spirits and ghosts, had a practice of feeding and acknowledging their forebears at this time of year so as to insure a calm and peaceful transition from warm weather to cold. Feed the spirits and they won’t haunt you all winter! Christians layered on All Saints Day.

Today is the day set aside to think about the Saints, all those who have gone before and entered into the glory and mystery of God. Saints, people who helped others see God. Saints, who lived a life that pointed to God and brought new life to others. A saint, what I aspire to be but wonder if I ever will be!

Thinking about saints makes me think about sin. I think it is the combination of names … saint and sinner. We don’t hear the word sin too often anymore. It is one of those words considered old-fashioned and out of step. That doesn’t mean there isn’t still a lot of sinning going on. It just means we are too modern, too cool, too hip, to talk about it. I struggle with the role of the prayer of confession in worship because some, myself included by times, feel it brings us down when worship should be a place of uplifting. However, I vacillate because I know that if we don’t address our sin, our brokenness and separation from God, then we cannot fully engage in the beauty and wonder of God’s love and grace. To say I am a sinner, allows me to become vulnerable to the mercy and acceptance of God’s surprising and healing grace.

So, on this All Saints Day let me tell you … I have sinned and fallen short … and I hold before me, in my mind’s eye the amazing and powerful witness of so many who have gone before, many who were also sinners but who, despite their shortcomings, held out to others the love and graciousness of the One who calls us their own. May we all aspire to do the same.