Part of God's Story

I had a room mate in university who once asked me, “If the Bible were being written today, do you think we’d be in it?” I’ve thought about her question from time to time. I’m not sure if she was wondering about her or our level of faithfulness and whether or not it would be noticed. She may also have been seeking a tangible way to be part of God’s story.

So, are we in God’s story? As a child, I saw myself in the stories of the Israelites from Genesis to the rule of David. In fact, I remember the shock around Grade 10 when it was made clear that I was not in fact a Jew but a Gentile. Despite not being a biological Jew, the stories of the Hebrew people are so relatable—human nature spans one’s ethnicity. The life of Jesus is also sprinkled with characters we can relate to.

We live in a culture where people look to celebrities and “follow” them. Not even the Christian church is immune with singers, teachers, pastors and congregations building brands and empires. We are tempted to read the Bible as the stories of heroes to emulate and villains to scorn. But when we do that, we miss the truth that God is the main character and that God can use anyone—adult, child, powerful, weak, named, unnamed, Middle Eastern, African, European, Asian-- to help bring about his purposes. The apostle Paul reminds the Corinthians of their beginnings, which were nothing to boast about:

“Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. ²⁷ But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. ²⁸ God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, ²⁹ so that no one may boast before him.”

Ten examples that shine a spotlight on hidden figures.

1.       The little boy who gave up the five loaves and two fish to Jesus, resulting in the feeding of the 5,000.

2.       The servant girls who urged Naaman the Syrian to go to Israel’s prophet to be cured of leprosy.

3.       Shepherds were a disreputable class of people who nonetheless were the angels’ audience as they  shared the news of the Messiah’s birth.

4.       Jehoida the priest, who lived to be 130 years of age, faithfully advised the seven-year-old King Joash and kept him on a good path.

5.       Eliezer, Abraham’s servant, found a wife for Isaac so that Abraham’s line could continue at a critical time in Canaan.

6.       Who does Jesus take the time to talk to as he’s being rushed to the synagogue ruler’s house to heal his 12 year old daughter? A woman who’s been bleeding for 12 years.

7.       An ill Egyptian servant of the enemy Amalekites left for dead enabled David to reclaim all the people and goods raided from the town of Ziklag.

8.       It’s not known which of these was the first African to receive Jesus as Lord: maybe Simon of Cyrene, who carried Jesus’ cross or his sons Alexander and Rufus or the Ethiopian eunuch or Simeon called Niger or Lucius of Cyrene.

9.       Who rescued the prophet Jeremiah from the mucky cistern? Ebed-Melech, a Sudanese man who was a government official.

10.    The Apostle Paul’s nephew overheard a plot to ambush Paul on the way to Caesarea and spoke up so that it could to be carried out.

Something my room mate and children and we ourselves want to know is, are we part of God’s story? Does God’s story include people like me? Fortunately, for all of us the answer is “yes.” For some of us, who might feel like we don’t fit, it may take a careful search to demonstrate this truth: “How great is the love the Father has lavished on US that WE should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1, emphasis mine).

Things I learned at church, Part 4: There is no perfect church

    Consumer North American society has made its way to churches for many decades now. If something displeases a person at the church they attend, there are many other options. Perhaps more so during the era of online church, accelerated by the Covid-19 pandemic, people have a plethora of choices. Those choices include worship times streamed from other cities and other parts of the world. Of course, for more and more people the concept of church or church membership has become completely irrelevant.

   As stated in the earlier posts in this series, my weekends have always been punctuated with church attendance once or twice on a Sunday. For me, church is still relevant. Perhaps a definition of church would be helpful. Church for me is much more than a physical space but the experience of connection with other people who also love Jesus as we meet together to worship, learn together, pray and encourage one another. The very first churches or ecclesia met in homes, beside rivers, or in rented space. They were not visible landmarks, but they were instrumental in bringing hope and wholeness to the community in which they were planted.

   When my husband and I met, we each belonged to a different church. Since they were both in the same town, we alternated attending each church together. Eventually, as we became engaged and married, we felt it important to choose one and become more fully invested in its ministry. Did I neglect to mention that all the people in these two churches had once been members of the same larger group? A heated issue had led them to split. How would we decide? My husband framed the question in this way: "Which group of sinners will we decide to worship with?" This was not about finding the best or the perfect church. In the end we opted for my husband's church, as he had the deepest roots in that community of faith. 

   About eight years later, we did move away from the town where we first met. Our first Sunday we landed in a church of the same denomination we were affiliated with, with the intention of just "trying it out." On that Sunday morning, there was a guest pastor. I don't remember what the theme of his message was, but I know it was based on the Bible. I don't remember if it was organ or piano music, but I know we sang hymns and spiritual songs. I don't remember if we were greeted at the door, but I remember two distinct conversations after the service. When we got home, we agreed: "The Holy Spirit is in this church. We don't have to look any further."

   That was eighteen years ago. Did we find the perfect church? No, we found a group of sinners to worship with. They put up with our shortcomings, as we try to contribute the gifts and talents God has given us. We work together to make things happen that none of us could do on our own, like helping to resettle individuals and families who were once refugees. We forgive those who have said something hurtful to or about us, even when it's hard. We listen to the Word of God together and seek to live it out. We ask about each other's needs. We bring meals to each other when we're going through a rough patch. We know we're not alone.

  Another heated issue has arisen at church. Members might look at each other and wonder, "Which side are you on?" I remind myself that this church is a group of people I've been connected to for more than a decade. We all have a story that has intersected with the grace of Jesus Christ. I'm committed to keep listening to those stories and to an ongoing journey with these folks. It won't be easy. It won't be perfect. But I'm counting on the Holy Spirit to guide us all.  

Getting to Know the Trees

 

One of the legacies my father has left me is a knowledge of trees. He was neither an arborist nor a lumberjack nor a craftsman who worked extensively with wood. Rather, he was a farmer alert to the beauty around him in the natural world. When I was a young child, he started to teach me the unique traits of different trees as we walked along roads and trails, wherever we might be. I marvel at the diversity within the "mixed forest" ecosystem in which I live, where evergreens and deciduous trees live side by side.

I no longer live in a rural area, and I notice that students raised in the city have very limited vocabularies when it comes to trees. They know "bark" and "tree" and "pine cone" and "Christmas tree." Why might it be valuable to know the trees by name? 

When we see human beings just as "people" in general, we don't feel related to them much. Yet, those we've met and gotten to know by name are the ones we begin to care about and pay attention to. In the same way, knowing a birch, a spruce, a mulberry bush, and an oak focuses our attention on a particular tree as a thing of beauty. Each one brings something glorious into our lives--the story of Indigenous people and the ways they turned birches into canoes, the awareness that spruce wood is used in pianos and violins, the mulberries we can pick and sample in July, and the vast oak that provides shade from a blazing sun.

Some new trees I've gotten to know this summer are known either as the service berry or the Saskatoon berry or the June berry. They can be found as bushes or trees that grow to about three times the height of a human. They have a special place in Indigenous culture, as highlighted in this article by Robin Wall Kimmerer.  I noticed the berries on one of my neighbourhood walks; these trees had been planted by the city on the boulevards of a subdivision built perhaps 30 years ago. 

Other than the birds, nobody else seems to be interested in them. Now that I know the service berry, I pay attention to it and am grateful for it in a more specific way than just "Thank you, God, for making the trees." In my suburban setting, my walks and bike rides are enriched by knowing the trees I pass by, one at a time.

Three Liturgies

 About six months ago, I was gifted a copy of Every Moment Holy, Volume 1 by Douglas K. McKelvey. This small book contains readings that can be used as prayers for many everyday occasions. It invites the reader to see events like going shopping, watching a sunset, and moving into a new dwelling as times of sacred ceremony. Everything in our lives can be connected to the Creator who gives us life and breath.

It is in this spirit that I share three liturgies I wrote for occasions that were not addressed in this book. It would be appropriate to end each one with an "Amen," which means "Let it be so."

Liturgy for a "Project"

Where we've been given room to live--indoors and out of doors--we sometimes envision improvements. We desire to bring more beauty and order and design, more welcome and joy.

The vision is grand and the work is satisfying. Grant that when it feels like drudgery or when setbacks and delays push the vision further into the future that you, Lord, will give us patience. Enable us to accept that plans unfold differently than we might wish and with less efficiency than we desire.

Help us to see that every stage of this project is an act of worship. Help us to seize opportunities for working together--with tradespeople, with neighbours who lend a tool, with walkers who show interest and with those who sell us the raw materials we need.

In the mini-economy of this project, give us a mind of stewardship and care over this piece of property you are loaning us. May we be able to pass it on in due time in better condition than we received it.

Liturgy before a Zoom meeting

I'm about to connect with other human beings, but I will not be in their physical presence. I will see their faces and hear their voices, but it will be easy to see them as abstractions.

Help me, O Lord, to ascribe full humanity to each one of them by being attentive and transparent, focused and vulnerable in the conversations we have. Help me to remember people's names and the things they have shared with me before.

Keep me from opening other tabs or multi-tasking. Help me to be as present virtually as I would be physically. Guide the speaking and listening, that it may all be done with grace and humility.

Liturgy for something Lost

Lord, you told parables about items and people that were lost--a single sheep, a single coin, an adult child--and then were found again. Great rejoicing resulted in community celebration.

Right now something needed is lost. You know exactly where it is. Please move forward the people and processes so this lost item may be found again.

It's only a material thing, with limited value, but it's something that enables thriving and service to others. I'm not the only one concerned about a lost item. Others have lost possessions, bringing great worry. Others are unable to replace their essentials. This liturgy is for them too.

While we wait and trust you, help us to dwell on things that cannot be lost, including your promise never to leave or forsake us, the truth of Jesus' resurrection from the dead, and the continued advance of the Kingdom of Heaven.

Revised Post: Avoiding the "Too Busy" Syndrome

  With the arrival of spring and the waning of pandemic restrictions, I hear even more people describe themselves as “busy.” Some are working longer hours because their workplace is suddenly more busy or understaffed. Some middle-aged people feel the pressures of caring for their children at the same time as their aging parents. Calendars have refilled with activities and outings, and our list of things to do lengthens by the day. We need some checks that will stop us before we get to the point of  becoming “too busy.” I was reminded of them again this month while reading Ruth Haley Bartons' book Strengthening the Soul of your Leadership. 

   The first check is my husband and children.  I consider them a high priority, and that means I want to spend time with them.  The way that happens consistently at our house is family meals around the table. We try to eat dinner together every night, and purposely carve out this time when everyone is available.  Even with young adults at home, family meals are still something valuable we strive for.  It gives stability to the entire family unit and shows everyone their value on a daily basis.

   Another check is Sundays. I was raised at a time when stores were not open on Sundays.  We always managed to do our shopping on the other six days and  appreciated the idea of having Sundays off to spend with family and participate in faith activities. Even today we enjoy taking a break on Sundays and make sure it is not at someone else's expense.  Seven-day weeks are a universal part of calendars even though they do not correspond to astronomy in the way years, months, and days do. There is something about the rhythm of six days of work and one day of rest that helps me deal with life more reflectively. Limiting my use of email and social media on Sundays is a practice I need to return to.

   

  My choices of transportation also help me to keep a balanced pace in my life.  Even though my husband and I own a vehicle, I would rather take the bus, bike or walk to local destinations.  Walking gives me time to think and plan; taking a bike is a bit faster but slow enough to enjoy scenery; riding the bus allows me to read a book without worrying about city traffic.  These modes of travel also lend themselves to friendly interactions with other people; they remind me my concerns are not the only ones that matter.

   Finally, I make a point of asking myself, “Am I too busy to help someone?” If the answer is “yes,”  then I know my priorities are mixed up. People are more important than agendas. My radar is tuned to people who may need practical help, and I try to do what I can to be a good neighbour.

Christmas Inferences- reposted

  As accounts of a person's birth go, the story of Jesus contains minimal details.  Of the four gospels, two of them do not refer to the circumstances of Jesus' arrival on earth, and the two that do talk about the nativity focus on somewhat different aspects.  Due to the brevity of both accounts, we have made inferences by taking the details that are mentioned and then filling in the gaps based on our best guesses of how things must have been in those days.  Those inferences we make are based on our cultural practices as well as traditional ideas passed down over the centuries through religious songs, art and habits.  Many of these traditions are rooted in Western Europe before much archaeological study was done about the Middle East and the way of life in Palestine.  For example, the Christmas poem by Christina Rossetti entitled "A Christmas Carol" (1872) makes assumptions about the weather at the time of Jesus' birth based on the climate of the United Kingdom in December:

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan;
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Today, we are quite certain that Jesus' actual birthday was not in December.  No matter what the season, there would not have been snow and ice due to the moderate climate of Bethlehem.

The Manger

   Besides being in Bethlehem, we know very little about the place where Jesus was born.  It is stated in Luke 2:7 that "there was no room for them in the inn," so we know he was not born in a lodge or guest house.  The details that the baby was "placed in a manger" has led to an inference that most people may not realize is absent from the text.  For many, the word "manger" and "stable" are synonymous, but this deserves a second look, according to Dr. Kenneth Bailey.  This man of God passed away in 2016, but he left a significant book entitled Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes.  By living in the Middle East for forty years he became familiar with customs and practices that made him see the reference to Jesus being placed in a manger differently.

• When we hear about an animal's feeding box, we automatically think of a barn, where animals live separately from humans.  However, Middle Eastern families in small villages shared space in their home with their small herds of sheep and goats.  Therefore, access to a manger could have been close to where people were living.  It is not inconceivable that Jesus was born in a private home that had one wing where animals could get shelter when needed.  The resourcefulness of using a manger to house a baby does not mean that there were donkeys, cattle and sheep surrounding the birthplace of the Lord.
• Middle Eastern hospitality is extreme.  Welcoming a stranger, especially one who is about to give birth, is expected in Middle Eastern culture.  When we imagine the innkeeper offering a stable to Mary and Joseph, such a thing is unthinkable to the Palestinian person.  If the shepherds had found the infant Jesus in a place we see depicted on Christmas cards, cold and dark and smelly, they would not have left rejoicing as they did.  Instead, they would have taken Jesus to a better and proper location or petitioned home owners nearby to have compassion and welcome the holy family.  Recently, a children's Christmas play was shared in which the child playing the innkeeper breaks character and calls after Mary and Joseph, "You can have my room."  If a child would offer them her bedroom, would not someone steeped in the culture of hospitality have opened his home to those displaced because of the census?

The Magi

   While the gospel of Luke tells about humble shepherds coming to see the Christ child, Matthew's account tells of Magi from the East.  Our inferences regarding the Magi have led to fanciful speculations:

-The song "We Three Kings of Orient Are" names Melchior, Balthasar and Gaspar/Caspar, based on a traditional text dating to about 500 A.D and considers that they were kings of Persia, Arabia and India, respectively.

-Because there were three gifts, it is presumed that there were three Magi.

-Nativity scenes place the Magi around the manger with the shepherds.

-The mode of transport was by camels.

   A few corrections to these ideas can be found by better understanding the times. Magi were not royalty, but they were a class of people who were well educated and influential.  Perhaps the title of "professor" helps us better understand who they were. In fact, this word is used in the Chinese Bible to designate these men of the East.

   Any long journeys to be undertaken by men of rank like the Magi would have involved a complete entourage of servants.  Three men travelling this distance would want others with them to provide security, food, animal care and other logistics.  They may have used camels, but we don't know for sure.

   If we believe that the Magi and the Shepherds both came to adore the infant Jesus together, we would note that Matthew 2:11 says "On coming to the house..."  Jesus was staying at a house when the Magi arrived.  As I suggested earlier, he was also likely staying at a house when the shepherds came.  

   The fact that Herod decreed that all infant boys below the age of 2 years were to be killed to ensure the baby Jesus, the one "born King of the Jews" would be among the victims seems to suggest that Jesus was no longer a newborn when the Magi came to see him.  However, the ruthlessness of Herod that is documented in other history books means it would not be surprising if he chose the round number of 2 years of age as the cut off just to be sure this threat to his throne would be disposed of.

Conclusion

   My notes here about the manger and the Magi are not meant to dismiss all of the traditions and songs based on questionable inferences.  However, I hope that was we read and hear the accounts from Matthew and Luke, we can remember that they happened in a time and culture different than our own.  When we read between the lines of Bible stories it is good to be informed about what the original readers would have understood by them.  I am grateful to scholars like Dr. Kenneth Bailey, Dr. Paul Maier and Joe Amaral who have most recently enlightened me in this way through their books and published interviews.

Rivers of Babylon

Lately, I’ve been listening to the song “By the Rivers of Babylon” by Boney M (1978) with new ears.  Some of the lyrics, based on Psalm 137, go like this:

By the rivers of Babylon, when we sat down

Yeah, we wept, when we remembered Zion

…

There the wicked carried us away to captivity and required of us a song.

Now how can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?

 

Colonialism and Babylon

   This year, I've begun to hear the voice of mistreated peoples in the lament of the exiled people of Israel.  I'm learning that actions of my forebears must be reckoned with and acknowledged as wicked even if some of these people claimed to be serving God.

   For Africans forcibly brought from thriving societies and cultures, North America was Babylon, a place of captivity. They wept, but their tears were ignored.  Instead, their captors ruthlessly “required” that they sing and dance to entertain them.[1]  Such requirements are documented in Alex Haley's book Roots (1976), as they happened to the author's ancestors on slave ships and on plantations.  It is a form of cruelty to force those under your authority to suppress their valid emotions simply to soothe your own conscience.

   For Indigenous North Americans, colonialism showed a different face of wickedness.  The songs and dances with a history much older than those of the European colonists were fully dismissed. It even became a criminal offense under the Indian Act (1876) for dances and ceremonies to be performed. In residential schools and foster homes, the wicked carried children away to institutions of captivity and forbade them to sing or even speak in their native tongues. Likewise, they wept, but their tears were ignored. Survivors of such mistreatment have spoken, and it's time to acknowledge the uncomfortable truth.

Pandemic and Babylon

   In addition to the applications to North American history, the pandemic represents a type of Babylon. That is, Babylon as an experience of exile from our usual ways of being.  It truly is a strange land, where an invisible but potent virus has made us take shelter in personal homes and disengage from typical social behaviours.  One of the places affected by the pandemic exile is the church.  People participating in online worship may have legitimately asked, "How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?" Singing along with livestreamed praise songs in one's living room is almost as odd as singing along with the national anthem when watching a televised sports broadcast. And yet, leaning in and doing the opposite of what one might naturally want to do can be therapeutic.  When we don't feel like singing, choosing to sing anyways can have a positive effect on one's mood. By choosing “opposite action”, some of us have learned to sing the Lord's songs in a strange land.

   Some have also realized that the canon of the Lord's songs is broader than just praise choruses with a feel-good beat.  Of 150 psalms in the Bible, nearly one-third are laments.  Becoming acquainted with other songs that help us express longing and distress are what is needed for people used to privileges. Singing the Lord's songs that echo the sadness, disappointment and even anger which our Christian brothers and sisters have faced through the ages can draw us together.  Psalm 137 is one of those laments, which can help get us through tough situations we face.

 

Meditations of our Hearts

   The musicians of Boney M chose to insert words that come from the end of Psalm 19, into their song about exile.  They also make them communal instead of individual:

                May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts                                                                  Be acceptable in thy sight here tonight

 When we face the broken places of our collective history, we can bring all the words and feelings of distress to the Lord. In 2021, this song (and psalm) has given me a fresh experience of empathy toward others and new permission to embrace the complicated emotions of exilic realities.

 

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[1]I am grateful to Esau McCauley’s book Reading While Black (2020) , which helps me read this psalm and other Bible passages from a new perspective.