Christianity, in its original form, is a simple way of life. Don’t take more than you need. Share with others. Be merciful. Do not be judgemental or bigoted. Assume the best in others and, if they reject you, go eat at a different diner.
Over the millennia, we have created complexities and bureaucracies that obfuscated the beauty of Jesus’ message and turned it into crowd control with elites and petitioners. From time to time, the temple is swept clean, but the new temple quickly remembers the ways of the flesh and surrounds itself with rules and hierarchies, circles that determine who is worthy and who is not.
No wonder the world has lost faith and hope for something better. The meeting of General Synod this weekend showed how the people of the fish can show courage and strength and change direction. It also showed how a minority of mean talkers, self aggrandizers, and hard hearts can thwart the peaceful dreams of the many.
So what do we do between the sweetness and promises of Jesus, and our own tendency to perverse cruelty? Well, there was a person who was beset by robbers and left in a ditch, no money, beaten and afraid. Several folks passed him, busy on their way, following what they understood to be their best choices. And still the person bled, and suffered in the ditch. Finally someone stopped and took a chance. They cleaned the person up, arranged for lodging and sustenance, and offered restitution for any expense. It was a risk for them both. The victim had to be willing to be helped by a stranger; the passerby had to hope the victim would not — somehow — turn on him. It was all about trust and compassion.
There is not a lot of trust in our world and we can see why very clearly. Look at the water in Attawapiskat. Look at the children in detention centres. Look at our prisons, our homeless, our broken and bleeding people, some of whom appear to be clothed in the garments of the middle class, but have still been broken. Look at our own hearts that are daily assailed with problems that bewilder us, situations in which we are powerless.
We are called to be peacemakers, not judges. We are called to humble tasks, caring with words and actions, for everyone whom we may meet. We are called to forgive ourselves so that we know how the healing of Jesus may begin in us and extend beyond us. This acceptance of forgiveness again and again will teach us humility, trust in the Holy One, and open our hearts to see the best in others. And when our hearts are open, we will also recognize meanness and pettiness, and we will rebuke those demons with our firm and uncompromising commitment to love and justice.
We will get tired and feel defeated from time to time by those who abuse their power, but we will rise again and again because you cannot keep a holy person down. Like dandelions in the spring, like ants in the sugar mill, like yeast in the dough, we will rise and we will change everything.
Our lives here are brief, so we have only a little time to do the work and model the love of Christ. But our life in Christ is eternal so we have no fear. There is a movement of the Spirit in the world. Let us quicken our ecological resolve in gratitude for this planet, in compassion for all creatures, including ourselves. Let us believe in the vision of Christ with such faith and fervour that it is actualized and becomes the new reality.
This week, I was browsing in the Restore for Habitat. When I came out, there were two men, obviously new Canadians, struggling with a dresser too large for their little car. I watched for a bit with interest. Ann has frequently had to do packing magic when I have made similar errors in furniture shopping. She always gets it in! Anyway, I offered to take their dresser home for them in my slightly larger car. It was a bit of language struggle, but then the deed was done: the dresser was in my car, I followed them home, I delivered the dresser. I think they were still confused about what had happened as I drove off. It has made me chuckle ever since. They will probably be telling the story too. Now I am telling you because I want you to know that it may have been a good deed but it so delighted me that I can’t stop smiling about it. And thats how the world is supposed to work. We do what we do and it brings us delight. We live in love, and so we receive love. We trust, and are ourselves proven to be trustworthy.
Jesus calls us to this ministry which will sometimes be rewarding, sometimes frustrating, sometimes infuriating, but act by act we are transforming the world into the eden that we deserve.