Category Archives: Theology & Culture

Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

Lent is for asking good questions

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This is the fourth Lenten season of the Pandemic. It was during Lent that our first lockdowns began. Many people of faith remarked during that time that Lent never really ended in 2020. I think that remains true in 2023. 

Lent is a season for simplicity and paring back, for repentance and renewal. All the practices that make up Lent, giving things up or taking things on, are meant to be ways to disrupt our routines lived on autopilot, and make room for us to remember and reconsider our relationship with God and our call to discipleship 

One of the fundamental questions of Lent is “why?” Not only is this a question of Lent but a question of our time. 

As a new pastor in 2009 freshly out of seminary, I quickly realized that the “why” of church was often something we assumed but didn’t discuss. I realized that a big part of my role was going to be teaching people again (or maybe for the first time) why church matters. Life-long members, actively engaged folks, casual attenders and fringe members all the way to seekers and newcomers. It seemed that for many of the people I was serving then that it was assumed that we all knew why we should be at church, and that talking about it too much was a risky thing. 

I recall meeting with one family for baptism; the parents of the newborn were only a little older than I was. Grandma and Grandpa, who were strong active members of the congregation were insisting on the baptism, while the parents were hesitant. The mother said to me, “I haven’t been to church much lately. I stopped coming more because whenever I asked questions, I was told to stop questioning everything.”

I let that mother ask me any question she wanted about church, faith, the Bible and God. 

Asking questions, and specifically asking “Why?” is not only okay, it is important. A faith that cannot stand up to our questions is not truly faith at all but something more like a cult. A rich, deep and well-practiced faith is one where questions are essential, exploring “Why?” is the point. The church is one of the very few places in our world that has the capacity to address faith and the “why’s” of life, even when asked about the deepest parts of ourselves, our world and of God. 

This week as we start our Lenten study called “Why Church?”, we will take the time to lay out our questions and have conversations that have to do with anything we might be wondering, but that ultimately get to the heart of the matter. 

Asking “Why?” and taking the time to articulate “why” is so very important as we enter the Lenten wilderness and as we navigate the wildernesses of pandemic, declines, social change and change in our community and congregation. I invite you into this conversation and disciple this Lent. 

Let’s explore the questions together.

Sermon, Theology & Culture

The symbol of the Ashes still matters – an Ash Wednesday Sermon

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GOSPEL: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Jesus said to the disciples:] 1“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven….

*Note: Sermons are posted in the manuscript draft that they were preached in, and may contain typos or other errors that were resolved in my delivery. See the Sherwood Park Lutheran Facebook Page for video

The ashy cross smeared onto a forehead on Ash Wednesday still holds a place of symbolic meaning in our world. You may have already seen a few folks out and about today bearing their ashes still on their foreheads. You might see some TV personalities who will wear their ashes on their news programs or late night variety shows. Today is that day when Christians can be seen out in the world with that black smudge on their faces, a visible sign that they have been to church in the middle of the week as Lent begins. 

Just a few days ago we were up on the mountain of Transfiguration, followed by the mountain that is our Annual Meeting. Places and moments to look around and survey the world around us, to see the paths that we have travelled and hopefully see the route of the journey ahead. 

But as Jesus and the disciples and us come down from that mountain top moment, we enter back into the fray of the valley and we soon encounter the symbol of the Ashes.

The Ashes that are imposed on our foreheads and their meaning transcend time and space. Even without knowing much about Ash Wednesday or Church or Christianity, the image of an ash marked face seems to say something profound, something important.  Something about impermanence and mortality, something about our limits and our finite nature, something about just how we live lives that constantly run parallel to death. 

Ash Wednesday not only reminds us of our mortality, but reminds us that death takes many shapes in our lives. From the small deaths of sin, conflict, division, suffering and strife to the way death is imposed our on emotions, our bodies and very beings. 

In this way, there is a discomfort that comes with Ash Wednesday. We work so hard to avoid thinking about and considering our own mortality. We strive to sanitize death, to make it clinical and distant and remote, very unlike the meshy smudge of ashes that will be stamped onto our foreheads tonight. We want to keep death far from our minds and experience for as long as we can. 

For many of the funerals that I did early on as a pastor, funeral directors would come prepared for the committals at the grave. They would often bring vials of sand for the moment when I would commend the deceased to the ground saying, “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” As I said the portion of the prayer of committal, I would mark the casket with the cross with the sand. The little metal vial would make it easy to produce a cross in sand as it poured evenly onto the caskets. It was the correct liturgical action, yet it seemed careful and contained. The symbol was muted by the neatness. 

In more recent years as graveside committals have become more rare, funeral directors have mostly stopped bringing the vials of sand. So I have been required to go back to the traditional means for marking caskets with the symbol of the cross – I have been using dirt. Dirt from the grave itself, usually piled nearby under a green turf carpet attempting to hide the fact that this grave is a hole in the ground. 

The symbol changes when you go from holding a carefully filled vial of sand to grabbing a handful of dirt and marking a clumpy cross on a casket. The sand usually blended into the finished wood the casket, while the dirt feel like dumping a handful of soil onto a carefully set dinning room table. The dirt doesn’t feel like it belongs. And yet as the words are said, “earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust” it becomes a proclamation of defiance. Defiance against our attempts to contain death, to keep ourselves detached and removed from the messiness of death. Caskets and graves are not little condos in the ground, but in that moment we are returning a person, a loved one to the impermanent and mortal place from where we were created. 

Dropping those clumps of dirt on caskets and marking foreheads with wispy palm ashes are moments that go hand in hand. Symbols that say something more than words about them can, they are the very thing from where we come from and to where we return. As God took the dirt and formed the Adam – the dirt creature in Hebrew – God brought human beings into existence. Our bodies are destined to return to the same dirt and mud, the same dust and ash. And as we make that proclamation at Funerals and on Ash Wednesday, the dirt and the ashes bring us close where we came from and to where we return.  

And yet, the ashes aren’t just reminders of our mortality, they aren’t just the embodiment of our fragility and finitude. 

The ashes remind us that the God who first created life out of the mud and earth, dust and ash has now taken on our flesh, our dusty finite flesh. And in that earthy flesh destined to die, God will do again what God did in the beginning. From the ashy cross and the dusty grave, God will breath life in to these earthy bodies of ours. Even from the ash that we bear tonight, even from the clumps of dirt that will be place on our graves, God will create new and resurrected life. 

And so on this first step into the season of Lent, on this night of Ashes, we also are reminded of God’s promises made to the Adam, made again in the waters of Baptism, reinforced tonight and kept at the end – Remember that you are dust and even in the dust there is life. 

Theology & Culture

Remember the ‘Why?’ of Church – Pastor Thoughts

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As you may have read last time, I spent last week in the mountains at the Alberta Study Conference. It is an annual event in Canmore (a beautiful little mountain town just outside of Banff), which is always a treat to visit. 

Study conferences are a chance to hear keynote speakers, spend time with friends and colleagues, and have the chance to get away for a bit. All important parts of finding some rest and rejuvenation in ministry, or really any vocation. 

But the other piece is having the change to step back and look at things with perspective. It is easy to get mired in the details and day-to-day of things, so taking intentional time to step back and ask some of the bigger questions is vital. Plus being surrounded by mountains has a natural way of granting some helpful perspective. 

Church life can be a race from Advent to Easter, a marathon and a sprint combined, that you are always feeling like you need to catch up. I was fortunate last week to have some good conversations with colleagues about ministry and to take the chance to sit with my thoughts. 

A lot of the conversation was centered on the fact that the church has a lot on our plate these days, change management chief among them. But along with navigating all the change that we facing, it is easy for us to forget why we are doing all this in the first place. 

This notion was confirmed again at our local clergy meeting here in Winnipeg this week. The Bishop remarked that 2023 will be a big year for the church, with several congregations facing big challenges and decisions. Change is happening already. But, along with the challenges due to pandemic, general decline, an aging population that isn’t replacing itself (our birthrate is only 1.4 in Canada!), climate change, political unrest, economic inequality and so on, the church seems to have difficulty articulating the purpose at our core. We can get so fixated on making sure we can keep the lights on, pay the insurance, fill council spots, print bulletins, find Sunday School teachers, etc., that we forget that all of those things actually have very little to do with our core mission. We aren’t communities whose core purpose is having money in offering plates, well maintained buildings and full council/committee rosters. 

Rather, all of those things are secondary or tertiary to why we exist. Offering and committees and buildings are simply the means to the end of “Church.” Our central purpose is to proclaim the Gospel, to tell the world of the Good News of Christ’s death and resurrection. 

Still, it can be hard to really know what that means. How do we proclaim that? Why is this 2000-year-old story important? It feels more concrete to focus on cleaning carpets, making sure the snow is shovelled and filling volunteer roles. 

I am someone who believes that we cannot talk enough about those big picture pieces that sit at the core of our being. Why Church? Why Jesus? Why the Bible? Why is all of that so important?

This Lent, we will be having Soup+Bread Studies after worship and we will talk about these questions. We will take the time to articulate – to say out loud again in conversation – why being a community of faith in this time and place is important, and why budgets, buildings and volunteers are needed to keep the church going. Not because we need budgets, buildings and volunteers, but because we are human beings living in a messy world in need of hope and light. Hope and Light that is found in the Gospel message heard in communities of faith just like ours. 

As we approach Annual Meeting Season, Transfiguration Sunday and Lent, I encourage you to take the time to get some perspective, to ponder ‘Why Church?’ and to be reminded of what the central things of faith are for us. 

Maybe that will be at our Soup+Bread study, maybe that will be by taking some time in prayer and scripture, maybe that is what we will be experiencing the entire Ash Wednesday-Lent-Holy Week cycle of worship or maybe it will be in another individual way. However you find that perspective, know that it will help you and us in following God’s call to whatever the church is going to go next, wherever God is calling us to follow in 2023 and beyond. 

Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

The time it takes to figure church out – Pastor Thoughts

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“Come and See”

This last week’s Gospel lesson from John contains this phrase. While maybe it doesn’t jump out a first, there are some preachers and scholars out there who say that John is the Gospel of “Come and See.”

Other scholars have described it as “Word and Sign.” 

Both are shorthand ways of saying that in John’s Gospel there is a repeating pattern of Jesus inviting people (the disciples, crowds, the religious authorities) to believe that he is the Messiah (Word) and when they hesitate, Jesus reveals who he is with a miracle or other divine act (Sign). 

This dynamic plays out most clearly in the story of Lazarus. Jesus comes late to heal Lazarus and so Lazarus’ sister Mary meets Jesus on the road. When she points out that Jesus could have done something to prevent Lazarus’ death, Jesus reminds her that HE is the resurrection and the life (Word). But then when they get to the tomb, Mary objects to the stone being rolled away because there will be a smell (hesitation). But Jesus commands it anyway, and out walks Lazarus (Sign). 

“Come and See” is the phrase that describes that invitation between the Word and the Sign, the invitation given just at the moment when we might be hesitating to believe that Jesus is who he says he is. 

This pattern that John lifts up is a way to make the Gospel all the more compelling. John recognizes that most of the people who come after him won’t be able to watch Jesus in action the way the disciples and crowds did. But if we can see ourselves in their hesitation then maybe we will see that the only necessary part is the Word. We will hear the Good News and come to faith. John basically says this at the end of his Gospel. 

While I think one of the challenges to faith in a world confident that science and technology will save us, is precisely the lack of “signs.” I also think that this dynamic of “Come and See” is a part of our lives and communities as Christians and as people of faith. 

It is just that the signs might not be what we expect. We are probably not going to head over to the local cemetery and see someone hop out of a casket.

But in our communities of faith we DO see people who are healed and brought to new life all the time. People who are dead in loneliness or isolation, people who are broken by fractured family relationships, people who have suffered illness and disease, who, by being a part of church communities, find hope and life and peace. 

We see people who hear the “Gospel Word” and are transformed into new creations. Who are so captured by the good news of Jesus’ love for them that it changes them to the core. 

In the past few months, I have been watching one such transformation in my own family. My son, who is 8, has been attending church almost weekly his whole life (pandemic lockdowns not withstanding). And of course he was a baby, a toddler, or little kid for a lot of that time. This past fall, he has begun telling me that he likes my sermons, not every week, but once in a while. I have asked him what he likes, and he has been able to tell me very accurately what my sermon for a particular Sunday was about. And over the Christmas season, I had the opportunity to sit with him in the pew for a few services. Together we found the hymns in hymnbooks and I taught him how to follow the verses of hymns. We followed the litany and psalm together, learning which lines were for us to say. We talked about the different parts of worship, as in when to stand (when we sing, pray and hear the Gospel) and when we sit (all other times). He often will sing liturgical songs at home (“This is feast!”) or repeat other liturgical responses at home. 

It only took him eight and a half years of attending church for it to take (especially since learning to read in the last two years). And, all of a sudden, worship and church and being together with all the people he knows at church (two churches!) have imparted to him that faith is important, that what God has to say to him and about his world and life is important, and that worshipping in community is important. 

“Come and See” is an invitation to witness how the Word of God is doing incredible things in our world and in our lives. Maybe as we start this New Year together, 2023 will be a year to “Come and See.’

Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

The extravagance of a baptism – Pastor Thoughts

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Baptisms are one of my favourite things to do as a pastor. I have been privileged to preside at many over the years.

For most families coming for baptism, I have made the point of meeting with the family ahead of time to talk about the meaning, reasons, symbols and images of the rite. Baptisms present shameless opportunities to invite myself into the home of all kinds of folks for an hour, often people who might only be connected to church through grandparents, and talk about Jesus, faith and what it means to be a Christian.

(As an aside, if anyone thinks that pastors have a magical power to convince people to come to church, we don’t. Of all these pre-baptismal meetings I have done, the families who were actively engaged before remained so. And the families who weren’t active or who were even unchurched, also remained so. But I have seen many church members invite family, friends and neighbours to church who then became active members themselves.)

Pre-baptismal meetings have been great conversations about faith, about how we see God active in our lives and how families hope to see God active in the lives of their children. We also unpack the subtle but rich symbols of baptism: Water, Word, Oil and Candle. (Ask about an adult study if you want to know more!)

Equally as exciting is the baptismal rite in worship itself. Baptisms, though seemingly brief, are packed with liturgical action. There is the litany of questions and promises, the “flood prayer” declaring God’s actions and promises made in water, the “washing” of the candidate, the laying on of hands, the anointing with oil and the candle lit from the light of the Paschal candle. That being said, the way that Lutherans tend to do baptism is often understated and to the point. We often get uncomfortable being too much on display and so we keep things somewhat restrained. 

There is one baptism, however, that I will never forget. For all the baptisms that I had seen growing up in my home congregation or the ones that I had assisted with on internship, it was a baptism that took place during my final year of seminary that sticks out in my mind the most. 

It was a baptism for the newborn child of a classmate and my best friend, presided over by our seminary liturgy professor in my final year. During one of our chapel services, we all gathered around the font. There, the deep and notoriously large bowl at the seminary was filled with water. 

As the parents answered the questions, our professor held the child who was wrapped up in a warm blanket. As she prayed the “flood prayers”, her hands played in the water, splashing to remind us that water moves and has life. She then took green boughs, dipped them in the water and sprinkled the entire congregation, reminding us we were also baptized children of God. 

Then the baby was unwrapped from the blanket, wearing nothing, and just like so many parents have done in kitchen sinks, our professor put the baby right into the water, sitting the child down as if she were having a bath. The baby was washed from head to toe in the warm water as the baptismal formula was proclaimed: I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. 

Then back into the warm towel the baby went. Laying her hands on the baby’s head, the pastor prayed the prayer of confirmation. Then she took some sweet smelling baby oil and carefully anointed the baby on the head, behind the ears, the chest and back, on each arm and hand, leg and foot. Our professor carefully made the sign of the Cross first on the child’s head, then over the baby’s mouth, on the heart, and then on each hand and each foot, each and every part of the baby, marking the child as belonging to Christ.

Finally, the baby was dressed in a baptismal gown: The white robes of the great multitude that gathers before the throne of God in the book of Revelation, the symbol of the baptized who belong to the Body of Christ. Robes that we could all wear when we gather for worship, but that at least the pastors wears to remind us that we are baptized.

Some part of me felt as if I had finally seen a baptism for the first time. Not that our normally restrained versions weren’t baptisms, but that they often only hinted at rich images and symbols of the rite. 

There was something to the slow and careful ritual of preparing the whole body of the baby, of being unwrapped, fully washed, anointed (chrismated, as it is called in the Orthodox Church) with oil and dressed in the baptismal garment that made it clear that this little baby was now forever changed in the presence of the community. Something had happened to this baby – they now belonged to the church, to the Body of Christ in a way that they hadn’t before. It wasn’t that a box had been checked, or a certificate provided; it was that a journey and a transformation had taken place.

Of course all the ritual action doesn’t make the baptism more valid; all we need (as the small catechism reminds us) is Water and the Word. 

But I do know that we can forget just what has happened to us in Baptism, just how we have been changed and transformed. As we hear the story of Jesus’ baptism this Sunday, we will be reminded of what God is doing with us and with the water. And we are reminded that this action of God is life changing. 

Maybe some day we will build up to taking our time with liturgical action like my seminary professor did; but today we know that the work of God is the same in us, washing us from head to toe, anointing us fully and completely in Christ, naming and claiming each and every part of us for the sake of the Kingdom of God.