Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Christmas Eve

Isaiah 9
2 The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness on them light has shined.

Luke 2
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see--I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.


Christmas poll: hands up if you like surprizes. Or if you don’t. My hunch is that most of us would support the pleasant surprizes and avoid the unpleasant ones. A surprize party is nice, a leaky roof is not.

Looking beyond these surprizingly pervious walls there are surprizing events on a much large scale. The end of the Cold War, 9-11, even the emergence of the internet are ready examples. For surprizes such as these, social scientists coined the phrase Black Swan Event.

The commonly held European belief was that all swans were white. Commonly held, of course, until Europeans made their way to Australia, and discovered that down-under, swans are black. The term, then, applies to any event that shatters normal expectations and brings about dramatic change.

Back to our examples, the fall of the Berlin Wall illustrates the metaphor well: it happened quite suddenly and it forced us to rethink our reality. There were clearly steps that led to the events of November 9, 1989, but for most, it was something we didn’t expect to see on our lifetime. It was a Black Swan Event.

Nassim Taleb, who wrote the book on this, goes further. He argues that our brains are not wired to predict the unexpected. We simply don’t see it coming. We are wired to look for patterns, to make sense of things based on what we already know. When the unexpected happens, we’re not ready for it because we’ve been looking at what’s consistent with what’s gone before.

Imagine a Black Swan Christmas. You’re a shepherd and you’re out in the field minding your own business:

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see--I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.

The key phrase in the reading is “they were terrified.” And the angel, of course, can see it on their faces. “Be not afraid,” she says, but it was too late. Angel announcements, it seems, are scary. What follows, the “good news of great joy” seems equally Black Swan in nature. This was the birthday of a saviour.

***

Each Advent we sing “Come thou long expected Jesus,” casting some doubt that this was a Black Swan Event at all. Yesterday we heard readings from Isaiah and Micah, describing in detail the future hope of a people. In Advent we hear of the stump of Jesse and the line of David and we imagine that this was not news, or at least it was something that fit with the expectation of the people.

What we miss, what fails to surprize in the midst of the familiar, is the idea that a saviour is born. This then, is the true Back Swan Event. God chose to enter the world in a baby, in the most surprizing way possible. Expectations were met, then shattered, as the long expressed hope came in the most unlikely form. The name Jesus means “salvation,” but salvation in the mind of most was salvation akin to Moses, not Mary, baby and manger.

There is something else about the Black Swan worth mentioning, and that is the very human tendency to explain away the event, to try to make it fit into those same patterns that we clearly love so much. Back in Berlin, the so-called smart people said they could see it coming: that there were internal weaknesses apparent and changes for everyone to see. Ah, the Monday morning quarterback.

Another example is the moon landing. There are many, seemingly sane people who believe it was an elaborate hoax. As a matter of fact, one year after the first moon landing, thirty percent of Americans surveyed indicated that they were suspicious that NASA actually made it to the moon. Could be something in the water. Whatever it is, it is clear that some people have difficulty accepting change and the way it can alter their world.

Cue the skeptics. I watched a rather tedious hour of television a week or so ago, with Tom Harpur earnestly explaining that Jesus did not exist and that the whole thing is based on an Egyptian demigod named Horus. Now, I have nothing against Horus or Tom Harpur, but I sense some of the same Black Swan reluctance that has seemingly sane people question the moon shots. The incarnation, God’s decision to enter the world through Jesus, seems so incredible, that might be easier to explain it away.

Incarnation, you see, comes with consequences. And maybe they hit a little too close to home. We know God through Jesus, and we know God’s desire for our lives. We need to love our neighbours and pray for our enemies. We need to care for the sick and the oppressed, we need to make God the centre of our lives: with all our heart and mind and soul. On top of this, we need to accept that we fall short of these and seek God’s forgiveness. No wonder Black Swans are appearing everywhere!

There are more than a few of us who don’t really like surprizes. We enjoy the comfort of the familiar. We like things settled and predictable. For some of us, “no news is good news.”

But not tonight. Tonight we hear “good news of great joy.” Tonight, “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness on them light has shined.” Arise, my friends, your light has come. A miracle is happening tonight, a baby is born in Bethlehem.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Third Sunday of Advent

Matthew 11
2When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 3and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” 4Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. 6And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
7As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ 11Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.


Does anyone have a fifty-dollar bill?

No, this isn’t a last minute appeal for donations. Although it could be. There is something important I want you to see.

While you’re looking, I’ll give some background. Last month I was looking for the words to “In Flander’s Field” on Google when the Bank of Canada website came up. Of course, I remembered, part of the poem appears on the back of the ten-dollar bill. Looking over the site, I was impressed by the way each bill is presented, along with notes explaining the various images.

Near the bottom of the page are the bigger notes that the humble rarely get to see. I’ve always been impressed the $50, with a thoughtful looking Mackenzie King and a picture of the memorial to the “Famous Five,” the five women who won the Persons Case of 1929.

Then the surprise. There, on the back along with the Famous Five is a quote from part of a text written by John Humphrey: “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.” My head was spinning. What is this quote? Who is this John Humphrey? I have a minor in Canadian history. Among my professors were Bill Kilbourn and Jack Granatstein. My family fears me at Trivial Pursuit.

It turns out John Humphrey wrote the first draft of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Eleanor Roosevelt called the Declaration "the international Magna Carta of humanity." Humphrey is the only Canadian to win the UN Human Rights Prize, one of only 37 individuals to win it in the history of the prize. Other recipients include Nelson Mandela and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Alarmed and shocked, I started asking people if they knew John Humphrey. My daughter and son-in-law, both Queen’s grads in Canadian history: never heard of him. People at the pub: never heard of him. What is going on? If there was ever a nominee for “greatest Canadian” it’s John Humphrey. This is the moment when I would normally do my rant about how Canadians hate their own history, and how Americans invent and promote theirs, but I will spare you.

It is enough to say that the late John Humphrey deserves a bigger place in our collective memory. He may not surpass Tommy Douglas, but he deserves to be common knowledge. The United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights, now nearly sixty years old, remains the best description of our highest aspirations as humans. And this may be the problem.

It may be our collective failure to live up to the declaration—which has the force of international law—that has led to our ignorance. Listen to Article 25 (1):

Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control.

Here, Humphrey is sounding like an Old Testament prophet, describing our need to protect widow, orphan and alien like some latter-day Isaiah. The words have a unique ancient-future quality to them: language that begins in a tradition and describes what is yet to be. It is ancient hope and future desire. In this sense, it is Advent.

This season of waiting is more than rehearsing the nativity and looking for signs. The season includes an abiding belief in God’s justice, a vision of the world as it ought to be, as God wishes it to be. Jesus prayed “thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” There is no clearer statement of what it means to live under the promises of a just God. Listen again to the words of the psalmist:

5 Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD their God,
7 who executes justice for the oppressed; who gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets the prisoners free;
8 the LORD opens the eyes of the blind. The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down; the LORD loves the righteous.
9 The LORD watches over the strangers; he upholds the orphan and the widow.

It is the same God, come in Jesus, who said "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” It is the same God, come in Jesus, who points to the new age.

There were some, John included, who wondered about the direction Jesus was taking. They were looking for “a strong hand and an outstretched arm” (Ex 6.6) to free the people, and to overthrow Caesar as God did Pharaoh. But something else was happening. Jesus was speaking in parables, and making disciples, healing the sick and preaching good news to the poor. There were no plagues and there was no blood. Jesus was liberating the human heart.

This also was God’s project. As the words "Go and tell John what you hear and see” leave his lips, we recognize what follows as quotes, words found in Isaiah 29 and Isaiah 35. These are words that point backwards to an age-old challenge: opening the eyes of the blind and unstopping the ears of those who cannot hear. This is not a physical condition, though Jesus can heal that too. This is an ailment of the soul. Perhaps the greatest single summary comes from Isaiah:

11 For you this whole vision is nothing but words sealed in a scroll. And if you give the scroll to someone who can read, and say to him, "Read this, please," he will answer, "I can't; it is sealed." 12 Or if you give the scroll to someone who cannot read, and say, "Read this, please," he will answer, "I don't know how to read." (Is 29)

How ironic that the most famous photo of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights is one of Eleanor Roosevelt unrolling it in the form of a scroll. And this whole vision, we know, is nothing but words sealed in a scroll. The words cannot live beyond the page unless we make them live, unless we bring them to life.

This is the hope of Advent: that we break the seal and read the words and open our eyes and tune our ears to the message God would have us receive. That we give to God our greatest hope and deepest desire that a world made new may come, that our longing may be met now and always, amen.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

First Sunday of Advent, Year A

Matthew 24
36“But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 37For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 38For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, 39and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. 40Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. 41Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. 42Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 43But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. 44Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.


The sermon is just starting, so it may be the best time to learn about the Epworth Sleepiness Scale. The scale, developed by Dr. Murray Johns, is one of the ways to diagnose sleep disorders. Take it with me.

In the test you are asked to assign a value between zero and three for each situation, the higher number reflecting the likelihood that you have fallen asleep:

Sitting and reading
Watching TV
Sitting inactive in a public place
As a passenger in a car for an hour without a break
Lying down to rest in the afternoon when circumstances permit
Sitting and talking to someone
Sitting quietly after a lunch without alcohol
In a car, while stopped for a few minutes in traffic

(quietly) If you are asleep now, you may have a sleeping disorder and should see your doctor. I did notice that “listening to a sermon” wasn’t on the list, so I’m sure you’re all still with me. The fun thing is that you are all now sleep experts: if you notice that the guy next to you in traffic is sleeping, you can honk to horn and refer him to a sleep clinic. Who needs a medical degree?

42Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 43But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. 44Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.

If we were to ask a Latin scholar or a Catholic theologian to describe this passage from Matthew, she would likely use the phrase mysterium fidei. In English, it means “mystery of the faith.” And in a tidy bit of symmetry, perhaps worthy of Dan Brown himself, the phrase mysterium fidei appears in your bulletin today. “Grant that in praise and thanksgiving, we may so offer ourselves to you that our lives may proclaim the mystery of faith: Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.”

Back to Dan Brown, mysterium fidei has been quietly sitting there in our communion prayers for a few centuries now, hidden in plain view. It refers to the three-part assertion that we will repeat together, but it also points to more. Beneath the category “mystery of the faith” is God’s eternity, the Trinity, and the incarnation, God entering the world in Jesus. In other words, everything that remains incomprehensible to us is described as mysterium fidei.

Some of you will find this unsatisfying. It makes me think of Geoffrey Rush’s character in Shakespeare in Love, who responds to most questions with “I don't know. It's a mystery.” Ironically, the dissatisfaction that most feel with the idea of mystery dates back to this period, and earlier, when Renaissance thinkers rejected mystery in favour of empirical evidence and the scientific method.

Suddenly we were changed. As the modern age took hold, people began to expect that everything could be explained. Apples didn’t just fall anymore, they fell according to defined “laws” that were recently discovered. Even the church got into the act, dividing Europe in half based on the idea that faith was subject to reason.

By the eighteenth century, bible passages about the end of the world were no longer regarded as holy mysteries but uncertain facts to be deciphered. People spent hundreds of hours pouring over the text, looking for clues to determine the date of Christ’s return. Dates were set, churches prepared, and the sting of disappointment was quickly set aside for a better, more accurate accounting of the end.

***

More recently, we have begun to reassess the modern age. One of the key learnings of the Emerging Spirit campaign, the appeal to 30-45 year-olds to find us, is that there is a divide among us between modern and post-modern thinking. Now, I could spend a week trying to explain that post-modern means, and likely make little headway. Instead, I will give you a handy summary. If this phrase makes any sense at all to you, you are likely a post-modern thinker:

I don’t know if it happened this way or not, but I know it’s true.

To the modern mind, factual and truthful are the same thing. For something to be truthful, it must also be factual. To the post-modern, factual and truthful may not add up. A post-modern might say “just because I can’t prove it, doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Or, “I don’t know if it happened this way or not, but I know it’s true.” Ironically, the last phrase is a quote from a First Nations elder, which is both ancient and post-modern. Think about at over lunch.

Back to the divided minds of believers, we are left with a post-modern assumption that the story of Noah’s Ark can be both non-factual and true. To the modern mind this story is myth, and therefore to be set aside, rather than imagined as part of the truth of human development. Remember, truthful, but not factual.

Imagine for a moment that God regretted making us. Imagine a world that was largely unconcerned with God, no longer mindful of the Creator or the gift of human life. Now imagine how God might reset the clock, and return the earth to an Eden-like state where faithfulness was restored. Jesus, the first post-modern, put it this way:

37For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 38For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, 39and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.

As moderns we quickly get mixed up in the facts and we miss the truth of the story. The truth of the story is found in three small words: “they knew nothing.” The people were in a state of ignorant bliss. They were busy shopping at Wal-Mart, surfing the net, or falling asleep in traffic. They became so preoccupied with worldly concerns they forget that beyond these things lay entire realms of meaning, ways of understanding ourselves and our place in the universe. We allowed ourselves to be reduced to “consumers.” No longer citizens or children of God, we became consumers of goods, information, healthcare, and everything else.

Advent is the best of times and the worst of times. It is the season of thoughtful reflection and preparation. It is the time we set aside to ponder what it means to welcome Christ into our midst, in familiar or unfamiliar ways. But is also the most acquisitive time of the year, the time we feel the most pressure to consume.

Interesting word, consume. Did you know that the Chinese government has plans to build 500 coal-fired generating stations in the next few years? And why would they do this is the face of all we know about global warming? The answer is under the tree. A billion consumers from the so-called developed world of Europe and North America want an endless supply of cheap goods, and the Chinese are just trying to keep up. The last thing we will consume is the little blue ball we call home.

Where is the hope? The hope is in the power of God to transform us. The hope is in the wakeful moments where we meditate on Christ’s return, and the clarity this will bring. The hope is in the movement of the Spirit, urging us forward as one people. The hope is in the simple elements of bread and wine, reminding us that God defeats the power of death to always being new life.

Where is the hope? The hope is in a familiar story told and retold, a story that begins with angel voices and ancient words. A story that asks us to ignore facts and focus instead on truth. A story that lives outside of time, yet returns to us year by year. It is a story about longing and desire: God’s wish to walk among us and show us love.

I want to conclude with words from Henri Nouwen, who lived and died in the here and the not yet:

We eat bread, but not enough to take our hunger away; We drink wine, but not enough to take our thirst away; we read from a book, but not enough to take our ignorance away. Around these "poor signs" we come together and celebrate. What then do we celebrate? The simple signs, which cannot satisfy all our desires, speak first of all of God's absence. He has not yet returned; we are still on the road, still waiting, still hoping, still expecting, still longing..." (Yancey, p. 242)