Tag Archives: Pastor Thoughts

The inner call and outer call

The season of Easter was understood by the Early Church as one long day of celebration. Seven weeks of focusing on the good news of resurrection. 

The Gospel readings appointed for the season of Easter often tell the stories of resurrection appearances for the first three weeks. But in the second half of the season, the readings and focus of Easter turn toward what this new community of followers of Jesus will need to become. 

In this fifth week of Easter, we hear a Gospel lesson where Jesus encourages his disciples to love one another. In fact, Jesus commands it in a reading that should be familiar from Maundy Thursday. 

The commandment has one meaning given to the disciples about to witness the events of Good Friday.  It has another meaning given to the disciples and followers of Jesus, sorting out how to be this new community called the Body of Christ. 

To a post-resurrection community, the New Commandment from Jesus becomes an important lens to understanding our baptismal calling⎯our vocation as Christians. 

It is often the case that when we, as 21st-Century people of faith, talk about “call” or “vocation”, we conjure up modern imagery of following our passion or inner call. We imagine that inner drive or intrinsic passion to live out our dreams, to find that place where our personal passions can be pursued in the world. 

You might be surprised to discover that Martin Luther was highly suspicious of the notion of inner call. The idea of inner call was one that had been around since the Fourth Century and was very popular among monks. However, Luther felt that monasticism was trying to pull itself and the practice of faith away from the world. In Luther’s mind, the Gospel was for the sake of community, the Gospel reconciled us with God in order that we could love our neighbour. 

Thus, our baptismal call or vocation does not come from within us, but rather from our neighbour. Through our neighbours, the Holy Spirit calls us to service for the sake of our neighbours’ needs. The teacher is called to teach because the neighbour needs to learn. The farmer is called to grow food so the neighbour can eat. The carpenter is called to build so that the neighbour has shelter, etc. We are called to work to meet the needs of our neighbours, and this is the basis for our vocation or call. 

As the post-resurrection Easter community tries to determine what comes next, we hear the New Commandment from Jesus to love one another. Our calling, our vocation, comes from this commandment. Loving our neighbour, meeting our neighbours’ needs, becomes the place where our faith meets the world, where the Gospel’s community-building activity is lived out. The Holy Spirit calls us to take the Gospel into the world by loving our neighbour as Christ has first loved us. 

The Happy Exchange

Doubtless, you will have heard me talk about Martin Luther’s concept of the Happy or Joyful Exchange at one time or another in the past few months. 

The Happy Exchange is the metaphor that Luther uses to describe how our sins are forgiven. In the exchange, we give to Jesus our sins. But what does that mean? Do we heap them on him like some kind of scapegoat who is then sent away? Do we mark him with them like bruises and wounds like the famous camp skit ‘The Ragman’?

Not exactly. In giving our sins to Christ, it is that he takes responsibility for what was our responsibility. Jesus takes our sins from us by claiming them as his own. In return, Jesus gives us his righteousness, blessing and life. 

You might call it an exchange of goods for bads. 

For the past few years, we have been using a Good Friday tradition of tying black strips of cloth to our rough-hewn cross on Good Friday. I will admit, the first year we did it, it felt a bit hokey. However, as we have come back to this tradition, it has taken on a more profound and deeper meaning. This year, while I watched as worshippers tied their black strips of cloth to the cross, I couldn’t help but think of the Happy Exchange. 

Here, we were putting our sins, suffering and death onto the cross⎯onto Christ. It didn’t matter if they were big or small, known or unknown. The moment that truly caught me, though, was the letting go. I noted that more than a few folks held onto their strips for a moment, and even more lingered after tying their cloth strip to the cross. It was an emotional act to make tangible our connection to Christ on the cross. 

Here is the thing about the Happy Exchange: it is not an easy trade. Giving up our sins is not easy. Our sins are not just rule infractions on a report card. Our sins make up a significant part of who we are; our failures, our hurts, and our sufferings, all contribute to shaping us as people. It is not easy to just hand big parts of ourselves over to God. 

There is a reason we confess our sins each week in worship. We need to practice the act of handing over our sins to Christ. Because once we do manage to let go, our sins are gone from us forever⎯we can no longer hold onto them!

On Easter Sunday morning, the image that we began on Good Friday was completed. The strips of black cloth were gone from the cross. In their place, were beautiful and colourful flowers⎯signifying the righteousness, the blessing and the life of Christ. 

It struck me this year more than it has before that, together in worship, we rehearsed and lived out the Happy or Joyful Exchange this Holy Week. A beautiful image of how our sins are forgiven and our lives are transformed by the Good News of Christ’s death and resurrection. 

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

The In-Between of Easter Still to Come

Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday are behind us, yet Easter morning is still to come. This in-between moment is one where two realities exist at the same time. Christ has died and Christ has risen, but neither is fully here. 

While uncomfortable, this is the place where we live as the Church, as people of faith. We are always in-between realities. We are always becoming and on our way to something new. 

As we approach the Easter morning scene, the Resurrection moment, we are like the women who are the first on their way to the tomb. Everything they know, everything they have witnessed, every possibility they can imagine tells them that what they are about to find is going to be one sure thing⎯death. 

They had no concept of what was possible with God, of what they were actually on their way to see and witness. Their minds and hearts could not fathom it. 

Easter is like that. Our crucified and risen God is like that. Everything we see and understand around us says that one thing is true, when a totally different thing is about to happen. 

Resurrection and New Life are always surprising and unexpected. God has a way of surprising us with empty tombs and new realities that change everything. Easter has a way of showing up when there is no way we could have predicted it. 

That’s why we proclaim and emphasize the mystery part of the mystery of faith⎯Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.

The Collision of Holy Week

The first Palm Sunday I can remember I was six or seven. A Sunday school teacher shoved a palm branch into my hands and told me to be happy; we were going to welcome Jesus. The Sunday school and adult choir paraded into the sanctuary singing a happy song as the congregation watched. I remember not being sure what was going on. But I knew that happy people were laying down their coats and palm branches to make a welcome mat for Jesus, who was parading into town. 

Palm Sunday is an odd event seen through this lens. Why is there a party for Jesus at the end of Lent and before Maundy Thursday and Good Friday? And it is not just my home congregation that bought into the party idea. The celebratory emphasis of Palm Sunday is a theme that can be seen in artwork, music and many passion plays throughout history. 

But Palm Sunday wasn’t a party or celebration, not really. Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem was something else. 

This year, many congregations in the United States are including protest signs in their Palm Sunday processions, as a way to protest their current government. Seeing Palm Sunday as a protest is probably closer to what the moment represented, but not quite. 

Processions are important social symbols in our world as they were 2000 years ago. We might not think about it much, but processions occur in a lot of places. A celebratory parade is an obvious one. But processions occur also at weddings, funerals, graduations, political and state ceremonies, military ceremonies, and in religious practice. Though it is understated, our worship begins with a procession and ends with a recession every week. From a practical standpoint, it is a matter of getting the people who have a role to play in worship into and out of the space. But, symbolically, processions draw attention and focus. They help to communicate that something important is about to happen.

This is what the procession of the triumphal entry was about. In the gospels, prior to the triumphal entry, much of Jesus’ ministry resulted in conflict with the religious authorities, the political authorities and the demonic authorities⎯the Kingdoms of Religion, Politics and Satan. The purpose of Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem was to draw attention and focus to the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God.

Palm Sunday is the event where the Holy Messiah, God-In-Flesh, arrives to meet human centres of power.  The Temple at the heart of Jerusalem was the symbol of power for the Kingdoms of Religion, Power, and Satan⎯the Kingdoms opposed to the Kingdom of God. The crowds shouting “Hosanna! believed that Jesus was coming as a conquering king⎯more like that scene from the movie Gladiator where Caesar rides into Rome as a war hero or like the Allied troops marching into a liberated Holland in World War II. The conflicts in both cases were not resolved, but only beginning. 

At the end of the triumphal entry, Jesus presents himself at the temple, preaching and teaching that God’s Kingdom had arrived, calling humanity to repent and to return to God. In that moment, the response to Jesus’ arrival was silence. 

On Palm Sunday, the kingdoms at odds had yet to collide. That collision comes later in the week, during the Great Three Days from Maundy Thursday to Easter morning. 

A Responsibility to Repent?

It is only the third week of Lent, and already, the themes of the season have been remarkably difficult. The temptation of Jesus was a glimpse into the clashing of kingdoms in the first week. Jesus’ lamenting for Jerusalem and wanting to gather in God’s chosen people was really about the unwillingness of human beings and the destruction of Jerusalem temple.

In this third week, the Lenten theme is less convoluted. Jesus is asked by the people who followed him around tragedies that loomed large in the minds of the Israelites: a group of pilgrims unceremoniously killed by Pilate and a civil construction project that fell on 18 workers. One might assume that these followers of Jesus are wondering: Where is God in the midst of these tragic moments? 

But the followers aren’t wondering about that. Rather, they are asking if the pilgrims or workers were worse sinners who deserved their deaths. 

Ouch… that is not the kind of question you are supposed to ask out loud! Especially not of Jesus. That feels like the kind of insensitive question that a parent would scold a child for asking. Or, at the very least, there should be some tacit acknowledgement that it is inappropriate to blame victims for their suffering. 

Of course, this kind of victim blaming happens all the time in our world, but rarely in circumstances so tragic. It is not uncommon in our time for victims of sexual harassment or assault to be blamed for wearing inappropriate clothes, or for the poor to be blamed for their poverty, and for us to wonder if those who develop an illness did something to cause it. But we wouldn’t look at a pedestrian hit by a car and think, “Oh, they were probably a tax cheat who deserved to be hit.”

In Jesus’ day, however, it wasn’t uncommon for people to believe that any kind of suffering was the result of sin or unrighteousness.

The reality is that we also know there are degrees of sin to some extent. We know that some things are worse sins than others. We know that the Nazis who claimed to be just following orders during the Holocaust are not the same as speeders. That fighting with my sister as a kid is not the same as dealing drugs. That clandestinely appropriating some of my children’s Easter chocolate is not the same as wealthy CEOs hoarding hundreds of times more salary than their employees earn. 

We know that some things are worse sins than others, but in this season of Lent when we take time to step back and consider our lives, our identity and even our sins… what are we to do with this knowledge? What are we to do with Jesus’ response to his followers?

Jesus’ response sounds pretty pious, “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”

Is Jesus warning them, and us, that if they and we don’t get our acts together, we might suffer the same fate as the pilgrims and construction workers?

I don’t think so. Even if it sounds like Jesus is saying that if we don’t repent we are going to suffer. 

Martin Luther would remind us that, in regard to repentance, God has commanded us to confess and repent. Our response to our sin is not to worry about our degree of sin, not to worry about who among us has sinned the most, but to confess and repent of our sin. 

In fact, the only thing that we can do in response to our sin is to confess and repent. 

And how does God respond to sin? Well, that is something we will explore throughout the Lenten season.

Photo: The Holocaust Memorial in Berlin