My sermon for July 12th, on Mark 6:14-29, is now posted on our church website. Here's the beginning.
It will be ten years next month since I was interviewed by the search committee for the position of rector of this parish of St. Margaret. It was a memorable interview in many ways, but one thing I especially remember was a question I was asked by Murray Tait, who was the People’s Warden at the time; some of you here will remember Murray and his wife Diane, who were very active members of this congregation and now live in Calgary. As near as I can remember it, Murray’s question went something like this: ‘Do you consider it to be part of your job as a preacher, not just to comfort us, but also to challenge us?’
Preachers - who are, after all, paid by their congregations - often have difficulty with that question! And yet we know that this is indeed an important part of our calling. The message of Jesus will not always come across as good news, especially when it calls us to leave sinful ways behind and put God’s word into practice in our daily lives. How do we react to that challenge? Today’s gospel tells us about two people who were challenged by God’s message, and how they reacted to it.
The recent atheist bus campaign in Britain has generated quite a lot of conversation on the Internet - and also a good bit of humour. Someone who loves a good laugh has produced a website by which you can generate your own slogan and plaster it on the side of a bus in a photograph, and Mad Priest is running a competition for the best one. I thought this one by Doorman-Priest was pretty good:
As I have recently had to give up beer for medical reasons, this one by JimB just about made me cry:
Further to my original post about the British atheist bus campaign (a slight misnomer, in my view, given that it says 'There's probably no God'), it sounds like the agnostibuses might soon be coming a little closer to Leslie and me...
A good article from the New York Times: apparently religious devotion is good for your self-control:
“We simply asked if there was good evidence that people who are more religious have more self-control,” Dr. McCullough. “For a long time it wasn’t cool for social scientists to study religion, but some researchers were quietly chugging along for decades. When you add it all up, it turns out there are remarkably consistent findings that religiosity correlates with higher self-control.”
As early as the 1920s, researchers found that students who spent more time in Sunday school did better at laboratory tests measuring their self-discipline. Subsequent studies showed that religiously devout children were rated relatively low in impulsiveness by both parents and teachers, and that religiosity repeatedly correlated with higher self-control among adults. Devout people were found to be more likely than others to wear seat belts, go to the dentist and take vitamins.
But which came first, the religious devotion or the self-control? It takes self-discipline to sit through Sunday school or services at a temple or mosque, so people who start out with low self-control are presumably less likely to keep attending. But even after taking that self-selection bias into account, Dr. McCullough said there is still reason to believe that religion has a strong influence.
“Brain-scan studies have shown that when people pray or meditate, there’s a lot of activity in two parts of brain that are important for self-regulation and control of attention and emotion,” he said. “The rituals that religions have been encouraging for thousands of years seem to be a kind of anaerobic workout for self-control.”
Apparently
the British Humanist Association, Richard Dawkins and a few other
people have gotten together, raised £140,000, and bought some
advertising to stick on the side of London busses (or is it 'buses' - I
never knew how to do that plural!). It's officially called, The Atheist
Bus Campaign', but David Keen calls them 'agnostibuses', since the statement 'There's
probably no God' isn't exactly ringing with certainty. David begins a
recent post in the subject with these words:
Fear
not, brave credit crunch commuters. As you sit in never-ending traffic
queues at the rush hour, wondering if you'll have a job to go back to
next week, a message of hope will pass you in the bus lane. That's
right, stop worrying and enjoy life, because you'll probably have no
job.
No, sorry, I misread that, 'there probably is no God'. Well that's all your problems sorted then.
Posted by guest blogger Tim Chesterton - with substantial additions by our host!
Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. Each year on this day I think of my great uncle, Charles Hodkinson, my Grandma Chesterton's little brother. His plane was shot down over occupied Holland on August 29th 1941. He is buried in Vlieland, Holland.
I also think of my grandfather, George Edgar Chesterton, who served as an infantryman for four years in the 'war to end all wars', 1914-1918. He survived the first gas attacks, but his respiratory system was permanently damaged, and he had breathing problems until he died in 1963.
'We will remember them'.
UPDATE: [Admin - Hoping Tim won't mind if I add related material I'm coming across this morning]:
"The great French preacher Lacordaire once said the vocation of a soldier is next in dignity to the priesthood, not only because it commissioned him to defend justice on the field of battle and order on the field of peace, but also because it called him to the spirit and intention of sacrifice."
+++
"It was a soldier who first uttered the words recalled by the Church at communion: 'Lord, I am not worthy to have thee come under my roof; but only say the word and my servant will be healed.'"
And from Tim McGraw, a song that ought to get to ya:
I held a little girl
in my arms, recognizing the facts. She was five years old and had been
shot in the face. She had been shot and her family killed simply
because her father was a policeman. This was the reality of al Qaeda --
a reality my Troopers and I had just begun to face as the terrorist
network worked to destroy the families of the security and government
officials so the people lose their will to support progress.
My
team in Diyala fought day in and day out to destroy the terrorists and
bring peace to an area plagued for years by violence, destruction and
neglect. Going places no man or woman should ever have to go and seeing
sights no man or woman should ever have to see, my Soldiers, Marines,
Sailors, and Airmen remained dedicated to their mission and determined
to accomplish that which they were sent to do.
Al
Qaeda was carrying out attacks across the province. The terrorist
network in Iraq imposed it's will in the province through fear, death,
torture, and intimidation. The atrocities committed by al Qaeda in
Iraq and Iranian-sponsored Special Groups cannot be adequately
described, but were witnessed daily by our men- and women-in-arms. It
is important to know that our enemy is ruthless, inhumane, and capable
of the most depraved forms of torture, mutilation and killing of
innocents that could be imagined. As we encountered these grizzly
tactics, we felt as if we were looking into the depths of hell.
Yet
in the toughest of environments, the courage, charity and goodness of
our team shone through like bright lights in the midst of darkness.
Their capabilities are indescribable - their sacrifices are great.
Heroes
such as Private First Class Steven Cornford, Command Sergeant Major
Rodney Harris and Staff Sergeant Donnie Dixon showed great courage and
leadership under fire.
Staff
Sgt. Donnie Dixon of Miami, Florida, was a member, more importantly a
leader, of my Personal Security Detachment; and had been a member of my
Bradley Fighting Vehicle crew since my assumption of command in July
2005. Highly respected by his peers and subordinates, Dixon was a
quiet, yet strong leader and warrior. He embodies all that is the
American Soldier.
September
24, 2007, Dixon and several other members of my PSD were providing
security while I met with provincial and local leaders about
reconciliation. Following the breaking of the fast feast for Ramadan, a
suicide bomber detonated on the front steps of a mosque, about three
meters from where I was standing. The blast killed 24 citizens and
wounded 37 people, one of whom was Dixon.
Dixon's
first concern was me. Although wounded, he ran to my location,
uncovering me from the bodies and body parts of the dead and wounded.
After helping me up, Dixon was the first to take the lead and gain
control the situation. The entire time I could feel his watchful eye
making sure I was safe. After evacuating Donnie to the aid station for
treatment, he again displayed his tenacity. Rather than rest and
recover, he was anxious to be returned to duty so he could get back
into the fight with his team. That was the type of Soldier, leader and
man Dixon was.
Five
days later, Dixon was back by my side as he always was. We were
conducting battlefield circulation in Muqdadiya, Iraq. As several
members of my PSD and I were leaving a company command post, we came
under fire from a sniper. The sniper fired towards our formation,
killing Donnie immediately.. As I wept, I held him in my arms and
hugged him, thanking him for his service and his sacrifices.
Posthumously, he was awarded two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star Donnie
left four children and a wonderful wife. He made the greatest sacrifice
while making life better for people he didn't even know. He knew they
needed him just as his family needs all of us now. There is no greater
sacrifice.
And now, for something a little less apocalyptic...
Dave Barry has his usual amusing take on things in the Miami Herald. It's worth reading the whole thing but here's his conclusion:
You
know what I miss? I miss 1960. Not the part about my face turning
overnight into the world's most productive zit farm. What I miss is the
way the grown-ups acted about the Kennedy-Nixon race. Like the
McCain-Obama race, that was a big historic deal that aroused strong
feelings in the voters. This included my parents and their friends, who
were fairly evenly divided, and very passionate. They'd have these
major honking arguments at their cocktail parties. But unlike today,
when people wear out their upper lips sneering at those who disagree
with them, the 1960s grown-ups of my memory, whoever they voted for,
continued to respect each other and remain good friends.
What
was their secret? Gin. On any given Saturday night they consumed enough
martinis to fuel an assault helicopter. But also they were capable of
understanding a concept that we seem to have lost, which is that people
who disagree with you politically are not necessarily evil or stupid.
My parents and their friends took it for granted that most people were
fundamentally decent and wanted the best for the country. So they
argued by sincerely (if loudly) trying to persuade each other. They did
not argue by calling each other names, which is pointless and childish,
and which constitutes I would estimate 97 percent of what passes for
political debate today.
Have you ever noticed how deeply the idea of God’s presence with us is built into our language – especially our prayer language? We pray for someone who is going through some serious trouble in their lives, perhaps a terminal illness or a family crisis, and we say, “Please be with them, Lord”. We seem to know instinctively that if people can just have a sense that God is walking alongside of them through their difficulties, then things will be a lot easier for them, even if the problem itself doesn’t go away.
When we say, “Goodbye” to someone, what are we saying? The word “Goodbye” is a contraction of “God be with ye”. We take leave of someone and we pray for them that, as the old hymn says, God will be with them until we meet again. To say “goodbye” is actually a way of wishing someone a blessing, the blessing of God’s presence.
On the other hand, we sometimes say of a particularly desolate area that it is a “godforsaken place”. What does that mean? To say that God has ‘forsaken’ a place means to say that he is so disgusted with it that he has abandoned it – and the result is that, well, it’s not looking too good! The way we use this word tells us that we understand the implications of God not being present somewhere.
In the first chapter of Matthew’s gospel, Matthew claims that the birth of Jesus is a fulfillment of an Old Testament prophecy. We read, ‘All this took place to fulfil what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel”, which means, “God is with us”’ (1:22-24). Matthew is claiming that the birth of Jesus is evidence of the fact that God is with his people in a very special way. Let’s take a closer look at why this might be so.
It seems a bit rash after the comment storm of the last couple of weeks, but after consulting with Rick I've decided to go ahead and post my sermon for the Third Sunday in Advent. Here's the beginning:
Woody Allen has to be one of the most quotable people in North America, don’t you think? His quotes make you laugh, but they also make you think, because he has the courage to voice the questions and doubts and fears that most of us don’t even dare to name. And this is particularly true on the subject of death. “Dying”, he says, “is one of the few things that can be done just as easily lying down!” And again: “I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve it through not dying!” “I am not afraid of death”, he says; “I just don’t want to be around when it happens”. And, “I don’t believe in the afterlife, although I am bringing a change of underwear”.
What’s going to happen to me after I die? This is one of the questions human beings have pondered throughout history. We go through life, we work hard to achieve something, we find someone to love and if we’re fortunate we build a family and experience good and positive and lasting relationships. But what does it all mean if it all ends in death? What’s the point of learning, if my brain’s just going to go demented and then die out? What’s the point of love, if sooner or later you’re going to lose the one you love? Is it really possible that all these years of laughing and working, eating and sleeping, learning and loving are going to end up in nothing more than the decay of my body in the grave?
Human beings have always pondered these questions. An ancient writer used the illustration of a great banquet hall at night, full of light and food and feasting and song. The windows are open as they usually were in the ancient world, and a little bird flies in one of the windows, flies around the hall for a few minutes, and then flies out one of the other windows. That’s what our life is like, the writer said: we come in from the darkness of the unknown, and after we die we go out to the darkness of the unknown again.
But human beings have rarely been satisfied with this answer. Some, believing that the person continues to live in some sense after death, have left tools and articles of clothing in the grave to help the dead person in the next life. Some people have tried to contact the dead, and others believe that the dead have contacted them. Some people have been afraid of what comes after death and have paid money for masses to be said for the safety of their souls. Some have believed that when we die we go to a better place. Others have been skeptical: we just die, and that’s the end of that.
The Christian faith is firmly on record as teaching that there is life after death. As we’ve been going through this Advent season we’ve been looking at some of the phrases from the Nicene Creed that touch on our Advent hope. Today I want to consider the last sentence with you: ‘We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come’. What does this mean? What do we actually believe about life after death?
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