Living in a world gone mad

For the moment, we’ll pretend that it hasn’t been over 7 months since I last wrote.  

Join the ranks of my parents, friends and earliest sweethearts to whom I have often provided the gift of opportunities for forgiveness.   Perhaps, in a later missive, I will explain myself.

For now… let us thank Donald Trump for motivating this current phillipic. 

 (we’ll wait while you google it…)  

Actually, I’m being somewhat misleading.  1.  This blog will not be particularly “fiery”.  

2.  There is NOTHING for which to thank Donald Trump.  

Ever. 

And Ever. (Amen).  

But he has got me thinking.  

What does one do when one discovers that he/she is living in a Reality Television show?  Because that’s how I feel as I watch the surrealist theatre and listen to the rhetoric of the Presidential Primaries in the U.S.    Can I simply swear at Gordon Ramsay and turn in my apron? Refuse to shower and get voted off Big Brother?  Is there any way that I can beg the Tribe to speak or simply dance away from the stars?

It seems not. 

This show will not turn off - like “Two Broke Girls” or “Saved by the Bell” no matter how poor the writing, acting or embarrassing the situations, it’s always on!

Living in a world where public figures re-write history on a whim (Donald Trump’s business acumen; Hillary Clinton’s lionizing of Nancy Reagan and her support for people with Aids; when Bewitched brought in a new Darren) I find myself wondering what to do when the nuts are in charge.  How does one live in the midst of evil, stupidity or just plain wrong-headedness?   I respect democracy and I have bought into the idea that the majority have the right to determine their shared future – but how does one live quietly in the midst of those who have been fooled or hoodwinked; lack the capacity or information to make an informed and just decision?  

Do I just grin and go along with it?

As teenagers, sitting in school cafeterias or basement recrooms we would often profess that, had we the ability to time travel, the first that thing that we would do is go back and assassinate Hitler before his rise to power.  We knew most assuredly that the best way to deal with evil was to kill it before it could spread.  However, with commitments to life, justice, the rule of law and the priority of democracy, I have to confess that I would be unlikely to assassinate anyone.  

(I had always believed that there we only two assassination attempts on Hitler, but having recently been informed that there were as many as 47, I’m beginning to wonder if some or my teen age friends haven’t figured out how to time travel and are simply bad a assassination) 

Of course, I could just bitch, moan and post constantly on Facebook how funny, stupid, useless or disappointing everything is.  But, much like my plans to assassinate Hitler, I would like leave my teenage attitudes and practices behind me.  

(Seriously… how ‘bout we give the new Prime Minister a little more than 6 months to fix everything that needs fixing and stop blaming him for looking good in a suit?)

So, what am I supposed to do?

I’ve ruled out assassination.

I’m trying to let go of whining.

I don’t want to live angry.

I’m not moving to Iceland.

French’s Ketchup aside, I’m not convinced that yelling and screaming at the Parliament Buildings, a Trump Rally or Loblaws is really going to affect much change in me or in the world.  But I can’t do nothing, can I?

This Sunday, the Sunday before Easter, most churches will be commemorating the Palm Sunday parade of Jesus.  And thinking about it, has inspired me and will help to inform how I will live in a Trump World… and you may live in a Trudeau world…. How we can live together in a world where we may not be entirely “at home” living with idiots. 

Historically, it is likely that Jesus' little parade happened on the day of or very close to the time of larger parades.  Parades that celebrated the Roman Empire; a least one parade that would have been notable for horses, chariots, loud noises, big crowds and raucous cheers in the name of Rome.  A reason for celebration, but also a reminder to the local folks as to who was in charge, and how they would deal with unrest and disobedience.  It’s all cheers and balloons, unless you step out of line and then these same horses, chariots and soldiers could be turned on you.  

Having been born and raised in Southern Ontario, I’ve never been to parade that frightened me or carried any undertones of violence in my mind – but go to the Airshow with some Refugees some time and you may see a very different reaction to the spectacle of military jets flying overhead in formation.

In the face of this militaristic, double speak world of violence and Empire, Jesus cannot remain silent.  However, he does not go to the parade and throw tomatoes… he does not scream “Fascist” and speculate as to the size of Pilate’s penis (thank you Republican Presidential hopefuls for raising the bar so high…)  He simply lives and presents an alternative.   He puts on another parade at the other end of the city… one with a donkey (or two) and people throwing clothes and waving palms.  There are no clowns, no banners,  no horses, no chariots or soldiers; there is no military or commercial might on display whatsoever.., instead, a parade of people cheering and crying out “Hosanna”.  An alternative to Empire; an appeal to God and peace, hope and love… a simple act that doesn’t dazzle or manipulate, but provides another way.  Kind of like the first the best of Pride Parades. 

images may appear whiter than likely... or even, possible.

I think that this will be my best way forward should I find myself a minority awash in a sea of idiots… or a morally responsible person in the midst of a world gone mad.  I will live and demonstrate an alternative to corrupt privilege of those who rule. I work diligently at loving the stranger, opening my hands and heart to those in need, I will seek peace rather than victory, I will pray rather than deride, I will keep doing what it right and trust God… and I will have a parade - many parades! I will make visible my choices, so that others may be inspired to come out of the shadows and live authentically, even if it is not endorsed by the majority;  I will live and parade in loving opposition to the “common sense” choices of the masses.   And maybe, just maybe… someone will recognize that “Hosanna” actually means “save us”… and our daring to hold true to what is just and loving will eventually be enough to change "common sense" and save us all.

Or we all move to Iceland. http://www.iceland.is/

Jesus Calms the Storm, David takes on Goliath and I try to figure out what to do after the murders at Emmanuel AME Church.

I don't often blog sermons.  (it makes it impossible to repeat them!)  But this is an exception.  On Sunday with Baptisms, Father's Day, Summer Solstice,  Pride Week and Aboriginal Sunday all deserving liturgical attention, it was the murder of nine men and women at Emmanuel AME Church in South Carolina that could not be ignored...   So, I spoke about racism and my part and complicity in it at the beginning of the service and I preached.   I publish because on Monday morning, I found 11 requests for the text of my sermon.  I don't know if it's any good... I can see many "preaching" flaws, but it is sincere and it's the best that I had to offer yesterday. 

To put this in context -  I began the sermon by putting on a kettle… in the early part of the sermon, as I spoke the water heated… and then came to a boil, even as I was coming to a boil.  I then stopped and  made a cup of tea.   I was inspired by some words that Brian Nicholson shared from Joyce Rupp about cups, warmth and tea, at a meeting earlier in the week.

The Gospel and the Hebrew Scriptures that were read will be obvious as my words unfold – but for reference they were Mark 4:35-41; 1Samuel 17:32-49

Here is close to what was preached

It’s been a tough week… and a busy day.  If you don’t mind, I’m going to put the kettle on – I feel like tea.

So Jesus was on the boat.  And there was a storm… a big storm… wind blowing, waves crashing against the side of the boat… the Apostles were hanging one for dear life… sure that at any moment they would capsize;  like any of us would be, they were terrified.

Jesus was napping.

As if he wasn’t worried at all.

Finally, they wake him… and they plead with him… Help us!

Although he will chide them for their lack of faith,  he still calms the storm.   Whoosh!  It’s over.   The wind is gone, the waves have disappeared;  the sea is calm and still.

And if you went to Sunday School or Seminary with me, you know that this moment in scripture shows that Jesus and God are one with all of Creation.  God is not separate or divorced from the elements; from creation… it’s not just we who are in communion or relationship with God:  All of creation is in relationship with God- because even the storm obeys Jesus. Get it?

Cool.   Jesus is like one of the Xmen or an Avenger… an awesome superhero who has great power and is clearly worthy of my cheers and adulation.  Probably a lot better than your non- Christian God. 

But, here’s the thing.    I had a friend who got sick and he died…it wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right…  why didn’t Jesus stop that?   Nine people were praying together in church – they were nice, good people… and they were shot and killed… why didn’t he stop that?  

I love the story… but I don’t need a Jesus who can stop the storm – I need one who can stop bullets… I need a God who can stop racism… put an end to hatred… stop me when I’m being part of the problem and refusing to be part of the solution…. 

I get so angry… and upset… and hurt… and angry again… and it all begins to storm inside me…  Mother Emanuel Church… Residential Schools… War in Afghanistan, Nigeria…  injustice  in Ferguson, in Baltimore, in my own city… teenage victims of violence, child criminals…    It boils up inside of me…it roils up…  it becomes a storm…

{STOP and pour boiling water for tea.}

Did you ever have a friend who would offer you tea when the world makes no sense?  I don’t even like tea all that much… but sometimes… I need a cup.

A cup of tea… slows me down… warms me up…brings calm…  and suddenly the story of Jesus in the boat begins to make sense.  It’s not about a superhero who controls the weather… it’s the observation that the presence of God, that deep abiding faith can calm storms…  like a cup of tea…  faith warms you… right  - to the core…And it really does slow things down (you can’t have instant tea).

When I think of the storms of my life and I have had a couple… it was my faith that warmed me, slowed me down and carried me through.  My faith in God… God’s presence in my struggle…. God’s presence in the struggles of the world…   My trust that Jesus doesn’t do party tricks, he speaks, reveals and embodies truth.  So when I’m lost or confused, I stop and listen for the words of Jesus… I pray and I wonder, “What do I do next?  Where is God leading me?”

Those moments when my hurt was so profound that it made my whole body ache and my mind and heart were just swirling and making no sense… I remind myself that I believe in God…that I am beloved… that I am  enmeshed  in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ… and I can almost hear God speaking to me:  Be still… I am with you… you are not alone… I love you.  And in the next moment, I know that I will survive…. the storm inside and around me is calmed.

{STOP take tea out… and sip from here on…}

You know the thing about tea?  When you put it in a cup, you don’t have grab the handle…you can grab the cup itself and feel the warmth … and  you can hold the cup and offer the handle to someone else.  And you can give them calm…  give them perspective… it’s not just your faith that gets you through the storms… it can also be the faith of another.

I don’t know about you but as the news broke and the media followed the story of the murders at Emmanuel Church in Charleston,  I was storming… I was angry and I was devastated,  I cried;  I got more angry.   I started to feel hopeless:  Because this will never end; things will never improve… racism and violence will always a find a way to destroy what is beautiful.  My faith just wasn’t carrying me this time, the storm raged and I could do nothing about it…   and then I heard the families of the victims speak to the man who had murdered their loved ones  (you likely heard it, too)  and they prayed for him; they spoke words of forgiveness, they refused to give into the anger that was storming in me.  And their faith began to calm my storm.  In their faith – not mine  - I recognized the presence of God… I heard the hope… and I began to believe that we can be better… we can come through this…  In their faith, mine was restored.  

This morning, I come to you with my faith restored… and also aware  that at times, I have been that cup of tea for someone else…it’s been my faith that others have relied on to get through the struggle and the storm:  At the death of a loved one; in the midst of destruction; in the absence of hope… some people have asked me directly- How can you believe? How can I believe?? Others have silently implored with their eyes, their tears, their shaky hands: How can I have faith when everything has fallen apart?   I’ve never had great words of theology or philosophy… but I have held some hands… I have sat and cried… I have hugged…I have prayed… I remember once just sitting and singing old hymns…  and I have shown my faith more than explained ed.  I have been told later how important my presence was… how it calmed the storm.

And I bet you have, too.   (it’s not something for which  I have a unique ability)

Each of us has the ability to share the love and presence of God… each of us can calm the storms for others… And in fact, in our baptism, we have taken on the responsibility of allowing that Divine Presence to flow through us to those in need… we have committed to being cups of tea.   But there is a trick… or a precondition to doing properly. 

To be the one who shares that cup of tea… the one who calms the storm… we have to be who we are authentically.  We have to be truly ourselves… which means that I will share and BE God’s presence differently from you… I may use humour… I will hug… I will sigh and probably cry…I will share my kind of wisdom and compassion… that’s me.  Given my privilege in this time and space,  I will try to make things better in this world by letting go of some of my privilege and making space for others to grow and lead, to find space at the table where decisions are made and all people are fed… I can do that and I can do it authentically.

You see that’s what David and Goliath is all about for me… or at least part of what it is all about. 

Goliath is a Giant.   He terrifies all of the armies of Israel.  He cannot be defeated.  David is small… like me in the face of great evil or darkness.    But David’s faith brings him to volunteer to take on the Goliath... he somehow believes that he can vanquish the giant …win the battle and calm the storm for the Israelites.  Eventually he wins the approval of King Saul (not like there was anybody else eager to go into battle).  Naturally, the King is appreciative, if dubious, and  wants to show David how to do it; equip him for the battle.  And so,  he dresses him in his armour.  The King is larger than the boy shepherd, so his helmet engulfs David’s head… his breast plate hangs low on the youth’s body… his sword all but tips David over… it’s good armour, but it doesn’t fit and it ISN’T DAVID!    David is a shepherd…  he has his own way of doing things; ways that may not be familiar to the King or the rest of the army, but ways that can be effective.  David refuses to be somebody that he is not; refuses to wear the armour that is not authentically his… he puts them aside and claims his own authentic self and is then able to win the battle… to reveal God’s presence powerfully for Israel.

You have to be you.  I have to be me.  If we can all be who God created us to be… who we are joyously destined to be… then God’s presence; God’s love can abound… literally flow through us all.  But we have to be who we truly are.

That’s why we celebrate Pride Week and our identity as an Affirming Church – to encourage all members of the LGBTQ community and beyond to be authentically who they are… to affirm that their love and their lives are sacred and God’s love and presence flows through them…

That’s why we repent and need to work at making reparations for our role in the Residential Schools, where children were taught, coerced and forced to be other than they were created to be.  We forced them to give up their culture, their identity and personhood… and in doing so, we precluded them from being able to fully share God’s love and presence… even with the best of intentions, we tried to stop God from shining through these precious lives.

That’s one of the great tragedies of racism… we try to force people to be other than who they are created to be… we refuse to recognize them for who they are… and we shut down God.   We pour that precious cup of tea into the sink…

But it needn’t always be so.   I heard words of love and hope spoken through tears this week; I recognized the presence of God in what I thought was utter darkness.  And if that can happen in Charleston, South Carolina,  it can happen here.  If I can hear and feel the presence of God in the words of another then I can be the presence of God to others… and so can you.

I can release my privilege and make room at the table for others… I can love all of my brothers and sisters; confront my own racism and bigotry – be it large or small…. I can confront it lovingly with my neighbours and family…   and I can… you can… actually change the world, so that all people can who they were created to be: authentic, loving and unafraid.

But along the way…I’m going to need a few more cups of tea… a few more storms will need to be calmed… but right now, I have no doubt that someone will hand me a cup of tea..  and Jesus will wake up and calm the storm

Thanks be to God.  

I'm a Racist

I’m a racist.

I know that I haven’t written anything in ages (busy church, busy life) and that such a statement is a bit of a harsh way back into conversation with folks… but it needed to be said.

I am a racist.

I don’t want to be.

I don’t mean to be.

But the truth is that  words sound wiser in my ears when they come from a voice that sounds like my Grandfather.  

I listen more closely when the face sharing the message reminds me of my Grandmother.  

I tend towards foods that remind me of my Great Grandmother or the culinary heritage of my ancestors. 

I dance better to the rhythms of my childhood.  

My favourite games are the ones that I played with my parents.

Things that remind me of my childhood make me feel safe and comfortable.  

And all of these things make me tend toward my “Tribe” and similar “Tribes”.   I laugh at Irish jokes because I recognize the references and I will often think that other jokes aren't as funny because I am less familiar with their references and rhythms.   

I understand and support solutions that come from my cultural heritage and sound familiar to me.  I know that the best way to fix something is to find a good clever and strong man who will enforce his will for justice on the bad man.  I've learned that from my cultural reading list that begins with the Odyssey, carries on through our “Victory” in World War II and is found in movies like Dirty Harry and The Avengers.   I've been taught by well-meaning people that I should aspire to being good, clever and strong so that I can apply my solution to people’s problems and in that way, love them and make the world better.

That kind of tribalism makes me a racist and a bigot.

Not because I think that other races, cultures or groups are lesser – but because I simply do not give them equal weight when it comes time to listening, embracing or acting.  “Their” way just seems so backward. I give power and privilege to the familiar... sort of an "old boys network" of procedures and ethics. 

I am a cisgendered, heterosexual, man in his early fifties, descended from Irish and Scottish immigrants,  employed full time, and in a stable domestic relationship.  All of which speaks of privilege. (just to be clear, I also cheer for Toronto Sports teams, so it’s not like I’ve got everything going my way).  There are some in the same or similar cohort who want to deny the privilege that we have – but I suspect that much like climate change, we say we don’t believe it simply because we don’t know how to deal with the implications or how to make things better.  One cannot look at the evidence and rationally deny the existence of Climate Change or Racism.

 Yes, I have heard that “white men” can’t get jobs because they all go to “minorities.  (Please note, those who crow this sentiment and include women in the group “minorities” – women are actually in majority, so you are the minority seeking work.)  I have never experienced my person as a liability in finding employment.  I did lose an election once because, apparently, they were looking for a younger voice. That’s not unfair… that was a preference expressed by an informed majority.

I have the privilege of travelling and I have never been held up by airport officials with the exception of one extra baggage check during which the security officers were polite and apologized for taking up my time.

I have been questioned, detained investigated by police.  They have always taken my word when asked to explain myself, always treated me with polite respect, even when one officer thought that I was trying to be uncooperative. 

When I offer assistance to a stranger in the street, it is nearly always accepted and received with thanks.

When I am confused or lost in public, people are always helpful.

Now, all of this could be because of my striking good looks and obviously winning personality… 

or, more likely, it could be that in Toronto 2015, my cohort is in very good standing.  We are not terrorists, anarchists, bitches, immigrants, freeloader, petty criminals, violent thugs, or stupid outsiders – as least as far as public perception goes.

So, why am I dumping this on you, gentle reader?

For the past week or so, I've been stunned into shocked silence by the Earthquake that has devastated Katmandu and I have been equally stunned and shocked by the death of Freddie Gray and the ensuing public demonstrations.  I've sent some money to Nepal to aid in the relief… but I’m not sure what to do for Baltimore.

Except recognize the deep problem and try to at least be less of a contributor. 

What happened in Baltimore and continues to happen in cities and towns across North America is a result of racism. Like Climate Change: I know it, you know it… we just don’t know what to do, so we deny it, or simply shut up.

So, I may not be in time to stop the next black man or child from being assaulted, abused or murdered by the authoritarian system that I support (at least tacitly) – but maybe, I can start to do something that might save the somebody 150 people down the line.  I've

got to start somewhere.

I start by acknowledging that I tend to the familiar and I am most comfortable in my “tribe” – be it defined by race, culture, economics, gender, sexuality, age or something else.  And I commit myself to broadening – to opening up my tribe.  I do that by listening… by following… by praying…

I commit to not so much using my privilege as letting it go.  The world keeps offering me privilege and every time that I fix things “my way”, I get to be the hero and the power and privilege stay with me. Others are invited to look on in gratitude.   I need to let that go and NOT fix everything, but listen to other voices, support solutions that may not make immediate sense to me… I need to hear the voices and respect the opinions of those who are oppressed – rather than comparing their oppression to mine or denying their painful reality.   

And in this, I will begin to open my eyes, my ears and my heart to others.. I will open up my tribe so that one day, I just might recognize everyone as a brother or sister; might agree, disagree, struggle, collaborate in active love, not privileged charity… and maybe, I will recognize that a revolution is possible (as soon as we stop calling them all rioters).

Maybe one day, I will help my government take the needs of First Nations seriously.

Maybe one day, I will help my community be open to immigration.

Maybe one day, I will help my neighbour recognize that brilliant and free people do wear a hijab.

Maybe one day, I will be against violence without having to choose sides. 

Maybe one day, a bad police officer will be arrested immediately and we won't need to consider his or her colour

Maybe one day, I will be informed by the wisdom of elders that weren't at family dinners.

Maybe one day, I will be changed by you...

These thoughts are far from complete… but then, so am I.   But I’m working on it… And for those who might wonder if there’s anything religious in this… it is Jesus, who eats with tax collectors and Samaritans, who reminds me that I need to open up my understanding of tribe and it is a loving God who give me hope that we might all recognize our shared humanity and truly be brothers and sisters to one another. 

Morning Coffee with Jesus

 Now, I appreciate that my humour and imagination might be offensive to some... but for me, they are tools to get me to deeper truth.  So, I apologize in advance to any that I might offend...  I stand befuddled by the Zimmerman verdict, not because the law was improperly applied; not because the jury failed to do their duty, but perhaps because the law was obeyed and the jury did its job... and still a 17 year old boy is dead.   

Sitting in my backyard early this morning… enjoying the cool morning before the humidity takes over… rising sun bestowing a sense of calm hope: A whole new day waiting for me to begin… sipping a nice hot cup of green tea and talking to Jesus.

Well, of course I’m talking to Jesus, it would rude to ignore him.

There he is sitting on my faux wicker couch, cup of black coffee in his hand.  I've often wondered if coffee is really the best way for the Son of Man to begin his day… but as he has explained to me, “You want irrefutable proof of the existence of a Loving God?  It’s that first sip of coffee in the morning…  it tastes like angels singing.  Tea is just a bunch of leaves in water”

This morning He’s still pretty shook up over the George Zimmerman, Trayvon Martin verdict. 

You know, for a guy who spent so much time in the first century under oppressive military rule, surrounded by intolerance and racism, he can sure be naive.   

“The jury did its job, Jesus… they listened to the facts, applied the law and recognized that George Zimmerman acted in self-defense”

“Against, what?  A 17 year old boy with some Skittles?”

“No, an aggressive young man, who, apparently, would not back down”

“So, for being 17 and full of assertive energy, a young boy is dead…. I suppose that I’m lucky we didn't have guns or self-defense laws in the first century, none of my Apostles would have lasted long…”

I let that one hang in the air for a while…

“Jesus, you have to understand the necessity for a ‘Stand Your Ground’ law… people’s right to defend property must be supported, or those who bully and take our stuff will win… and if we’re going to have the right to protect your stuff, we have to be allowed to use lethal force, or the bad guys are simply going to call our bluff.”

Jesus looked at me with those big brown eyes  (they are sooo big) and told me about the first time he met Paul, James and John; how he invited them to leave their nets and their stuff behind to follow him… and they did. Matthew left his job... Andrew left his teacher... everybody who followed Jesus left all their stuff behind.

 “Yeah,” I said, feeling a little uncomfortable,  “but they didn’t have great stuff like I have… I’ve got a convertible and have you seen my new Blackberry?  I mean, it fits right in my pocket and it’s not going to slow me down if I’m following you… and think of the great pictures I could take for FaceBook and Pinterest”

“Well,” Jesus said, “it is a nice phone, although I prefer a real keyboard… but if you want to follow me,  you need to let go of your attachment to goods and property.”  He noticed my jaw drop, “Seriously, give it all up and follow me.  The added bonus is that if you follow me, you  won’t need a ‘Stand Your Ground’ law, will you?” (Mark 10:17ff) 

“Well, sure… but still people can be pretty mean.  Surely we need some kind of law to protect us from muggers and those who would take the shirt off our back… is it so much that I want to keep my shirt on?  I burn so easily in the sun”

Jesus reached over to hold my hand… slipped a little bottle of sunscreen into it and said, “From anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again…”  (Luke 6:29.30)

“Come on, that’s crazy!  It’s my shirt!!  It’s my colour!! I worked hard for it!!!”

Jesus gave me the look that parents give a three year old that just doesn't seem to grasp the idea of nap time… and then he asked  me “Why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?”   (Matthew 6:28ff)

I could feel my face burning… “I think that ‘You of little faith’ is a bit harsh.  I mean, I’m here talking to you, obviously, I believe in you..”

Again with that patient smile, “I didn't say ‘you of little belief’ – I know that you believe in me, but I’m not sure about your faith.  Faith is about living as if you believe in me… faith should change the way that you live… perhaps not worrying about a shirt that brings out the colour of your eyes, or believing that property is more important than human life, or having hope even when everything seems to be falling apart…”

“Sure, I get it… but if someone is threatening me… if they even lay hands on  me…”

Jesus cuts me off… “If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also” ( Luke 6:29a)

Silence.

I had nothing to say…

Silence.

Probably the kind of silence that Pilate heard.

Finally, I ventured… “It sure would be easier to do this if you were around.  If you could remind us”

“What do you talk about in church?” Jesus asked.

Not wanting to brag about our latest fundraiser, I decided to retreat into the silence.

My tea was cold.

Jesus took my hand and  looked me in the eyes… not in judgment, not in scorn, but with a deep understanding and love and He said, “Norm, I know that you try.  But do remember when I said that no one can serve two masters? You will either hate one and love the other or be devoted  to one and despise the other?  Well, here it is… you cannot love property over life, or you will find yourself shooting people over a car… you cannot love your “rights” over your desire for service and justice, or you will soon be taking care only of yourself…. you cannot pursue power over love or you will find yourself killing all those things that challenge you… remember Herod?  AND you cannot follow me and shoot me at the same time…”

“But, nobody shot you!  Not this time… it was in Florida…”

“…for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,  I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me…. I came into your neighbourhood and you shot me….   just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me. …” (Matthew 25)

“But, Jesus… it’s the law.... it's fair… aren't you listening?”

“Norm…I'm Jesus... aren't you listening?”

He left shortly after that... 

Trayvon Martin: Us People have to do better.

So what do I do, now?

George Zimmerman has been acquitted.

A man who, unprovoked, followed a young black man in a hoodie… just followed him because he didn't feel that he “belonged”.

A man who ignored the police direction to stay in his car.

A man who referred to this young man, Trayvon Martin, as “they”…("They always get away")

A man who used a gun to shoot and kill a young man who was armed with no more than a bag of Skittles.

A man who’s description of events seemed to change with successive interviews.

A man who I feel strongly should have been convicted of murder, or at the very least manslaughter.

He’s gone home to his family.  (They always get away)

What am I supposed to do with that?

How do I respond to the rotting sickness that I feel deep inside?
How do I channel that anger that boils up?

How do I handle the tears that just want to flow and flow from my eyes?

Is it possible that the jury heard and saw things that I don’t appreciate and that I would have come up with the same verdict had I been part of the trial?  Yes, I suppose that it is.

Is it possible that the jury’s verdict was just another example of pervasive systemic racism in Florida?  Yes, I suppose that it is.

Is it possible that this systemic racism isn't limited to the state of Florida or even the U.S.? 

Yes, I damn well know that it is...

So, what do I do with this anger that I feel?

How do I express my deep, deep, bitter grief over the loss of a young life and this corrosion, erosion, and implosion of humanity?

I pray.

I pray to God for Trayvon and his family.

I pray to God for every young black man who goes for a walk outside of his neighbourhood.

I pray to God in shame and remorse for what we have done with God’s glorious creation: Humanity - our small mindedness, our tribalism and our trading our ability to love for on a promise to keep "them" out of our neighbourhoods.

And then, I make damn sure that I never refer to anyone as "They" or “Them”.

Not Young Black Men

Not Hispanic Women.

Not Asians.

Not Old People.

Not Kids.

Not Muslims.

Not Jews.

Not Buddhists.

No Atheists. 

Not Lesbians, Gays, Bisexual, Transgendered, Transsexual, Queer or Two-Spirited people.

Not Teachers.

Not Workers.

Not Liberals.

Not Conservatives.

Not Dreamers.

Not Idiots.

Not Drug Addicts.

Not Victims.

Not Cops.

Not Criminals.

Not Feminists.

Not Progressives.

Not People with Aids.

Not People Who's ideas piss me off.

Not ... Not... Not....  

No more “THEM”….   I need to talk about “US”.  I need my words and my actions to reflect an attitude and inspire a world where we are, together, brothers and sisters… a time and place where we are one… when this "Kingdom of God" that Jesus talks about really is at hand... where we take seriously, Jesus' example of reaching out and connecting with the margins, the untouchables, the "NOT the Sames".... where my first reaction to seeing a stranger in my neighbourhood is to offer him shelter in the rain, the help that needs, and a safe way to his destination... 

    because that’s how “Us” people treat one another.

I know that it won't be easy... I've got a few people that I like to keep out... that's why I need to pray, because I can't do it alone.   But I will pray... I will try.

God, forgive us… and help us change. 

Hard to Belieb

I was about to post this when the bombs at the Boston Marathon went off… It seemed to flip to publish that day.  However, it is still rattling around in my brain and on my hard-drive, so here it is:

It’s everywhere…

   I posted it on Facebook (so you know that it must be news)…

      Justin Bieber said something really stupid.

Shocking, I know.

Stephen Harper was secretive

Thomas Mulcair was confrontational

Justin Trudeau was really pretty

(more things that you just didn’t see coming…)*

So, the young Mr. Bieber visited the Anne Frank Museum for a private tour.  At the end of the tour he was invited to write in the guest book and wrote the following:  “Truly inspiring to be able to come here. Anne was a great girl. Hopefully she would have been a belieber."

Really?

Now, you might defend the statement by thinking that it was great that Justin was able to recognize Anne Frank as a little girl; a child who had dolls and toys and should have grown up to giggle about love and go on a date.  Justin’s ability to see her as “girl” and not just as a tragic icon reminds of the horrific loss to all of humanity: millions upon millions of little boys, girls, men and woman who were exactly like you and me lost to mass murder.

But, it still came off as flippant -  as if our Pop Star believed that if not for the genocide, she would have been so into his crazy dance beats.  How unlucky for them both.

It bothers many of us, that in face of the atrocities of the Nazi regime, Justin is still thinking about his music; his celebrity: Himself.

But should we be surprised?

No doubt, he is surrounded by all manner of “handlers” and assistants… people to fetch his water, make his breakfast, plan his day, fix his hair, keeps annoying strangers away, tell him how wonderful he is, keep his secrets and basically cater to his whims… For all intents and purposes, the world that Justin Beiber lives in IS all about him.

AND he’s not alone.

The M.S. St. Louis with 937 Jewish Refugees was not allowed to land in Canada in 1939… We didn't want them.

After two months and 1600 kms, a group of Cree youth were not greeted by our Prime Minister, because he was having his picture taken with Pandas in Toronto (a much better photo-op).

My cat comes calling at 6am each morning, and if I pretend to be asleep, she will wake my wife -  who can then get up and feed the cat, leaving me to luxuriate in my own bed.

To varying degrees, it always seems “to be about me”.  (or us… or him…  them… you know what I mean)

Our society certainly supports and promotes this attitude, as advertisements arrived through the mail, television and social media telling me that “I’m the one”… “I deserve this”…  “My future is important.”…   Facebook even tailors ads directly to me based on my history of “Liking” and commenting.  (still not sure why I’m getting so many ads for Lipitor and Cialis… what did I say? And to whom??)  In a Facebook and Twitter world it is all about me.

However, before I lay it all on the shoulders of Social Media and Coercive Capitalism, I think that religion deserves a poke, too.  I will speak only for my faith tradition, but feel free to adapt to be critical of your own.  In Christianity we have put quite a premium on and have a long history of emphasizing personal salvation.

Have YOU been saved?

Are YOU born again?

Is Jesus in YOUR heart?  

             (and he walks with me and he talks with me... and he tells me I am his own...)

Why weren't YOU in church last week?

I enjoy the looked of confusion when people apologize to me for not having been in church for the past few weeks and I reply, “I’m not really one to judge, after all, I’m paid to be here… “  But they have a serious sense of obligation; that somehow it is their job to get their bodies into a place of worship every week.

I can do whatever I pleases,

‘cause I’ve got my plastic Jesus,

on the dashboard of my car…           

  (here ends the sing-a-long portion of this blog)

It really is all about us.

I was asked recently by a very intelligent, committed individual as to the purpose of church.  She said, “If we’re all love by God – and I do believe that – than what’s the point in going?  To be reminded that we are loved?”

I offered that hearing and being assured that we are loved is important… we wouldn't let our children grow up without being told frequently how much we love them.  I added, however we can further mine this parent/child God/humanity metaphor when we consider the way that we love our children.  We want what’s best for them, we want them to make good choices, we want to offer our insight and experience as they decide… we hurt for them, we get upset with them and we sometimes hold their hands through hard times… so on-going church experience can mirror that.  The give and take of relationship… the sharing of love, more than just a statement of fact or condition: YOU ARE LOVED.

But, more than that, I added… we also go to church to be reminded that it’s not all about us.  We aren't just in this world to be personally comforted and saved.  We are in this world to be free… free for the other.  We are in this world to announce, promote and be the Kingdom of God: A way of being that is not coercive or violent, but just and loving.  Justice and Love are abstract notions until they are enacted; lived out by people.  People like us… and church equips us to be loving and just.  It challenges us to make a difference in the world.  It picks us up when we fall, encourages us when we doubt… it opens our hearts and minds, so that we can love one another, fully and completely.   Church exists to celebrate that it is NOT all about us…  And if we could really embrace that, truly live such an attitude and perspective, we might soon discover that hunger is not impossible to eradicate,

Violence need not be prevalent

Justice can be real

Passion and commitment can be honoured

Photo Ops can wait.

Refugees can be welcomed and embraced.

I can get up and feed the blessed cat

And Justin Beiber can visit the Anne Frank Museum and be left speechless.

At least that's what I believe (of course, it's not all about me)

*With apologies for foolish exaggerations and caricatures … I know that Prime minister Harper is not just secretive, Mr. Mulcair can be more then confrontation… Mr. Trudeau is not THAT pretty.

Boston and Brokenness

I had a blog ready to post… but today isn’t the day for my wit.

As I watch the coverage of the Bombing at the Boston Marathon, my mind has been going like this…

We Christians talk about ourselves as the body of Christ… and we mean it as more than simple literary metaphor.  We mean it as deep spiritual metaphor… we are the body of Christ.  We are many diverse parts, and yet one… we are invited to be as Jesus and heal, feed, dance, embrace, struggle and hurt, as his body.    

We also recognize the power of Jesus’ body broken in our communion celebration.  In that brokenness, love is revealed.  That brokenness is our way into understanding, embracing and sharing God’s love.  God’s love, the true “love” of the universe: the peace and wholeness that we all desire in our innermost beings, is not found in acts of strength or bravado; it is not conferred on another as a gift from on high… it comes pouring out and through a broken body.. and only through a broken body. 

In the face of the horror and tragedy of the Boston Marathon today, I cannot be unaffected.  As a Christian, I cannot look away… those broken bodies are my Lord.  I am one with those broken bodies.  That’s where my God can be found… not at some victory party when the enemy is defeated, but in the brokenness of my brothers and sisters.  It is here that I can discover the true power of love, the true heart of God.

I don’t know that means for you or me… what our responses should be… but I know that I cannot turn away.  I know that I can only truly understand, embrace and share this Divine love, when I am willing to be a part of the brokenness.  And not just my brokenness… but that of the whole body; the whole world.  

I know that I’m just rambling now… but I guess that I what I need to affirm, is that even though the people whose numbers I have in my Blackberry are safe and sound – my friends, my brothers and sisters, my Lord and MY body lie broken on Boylston Street.  And it hurts.

Holy, Holy Week!!

After a great Palm Sunday Service, I find my mind wandering as I drive home from church... here's where it wandered.

Holy Week.

Yes, it is… Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil, Easter Morning… it’s going to be something.  

But Holy?

Hmmmmmm....

What do we mean by Holy?

Growing up, holy always meant "special"... something you covered in plastic, like a Holy Relic, or Nana's furniture... something you couldn't really explain, you just knew... something that is beyond language… often something that we keep to ourselves.  (Shhhh… it’s Holy!  Don’t talk about it!)

I think of friends who were NOT allowed to read the Bible while going to the bathroom because the Bible is Holy.  (Apparently, this was a big thing for teenagers to do… sneak into the bathroom with a King James and read!!   Bobby, what are you doing in there???  You’d better not be reading Holy Scripture!!) 

I remember parts of churches and temples that the “Public” are not supposed to access (Not, here… it’s Holy!)    

So, Holy is special… but I never thought of my girlfriends as Holy (if we did date decades ago, I did respect you and thought you were special… just not “Holy”  I mean, that really doesn't sound like much fun).  Holy seems to be something that we strive to obscure; even keep away from others.   Ask yourself, why do we call it Good Friday?  Do you know?  If someone asks, do you have an answer?…. Or are you more likely to tell them that if they don’t understand, than they never will?  (yes, Ross Lockhart did explain it in last Month’s United Church Observer, but how many of us are that smart??)   

How about Maundy Thursday?  Do you know we call it that?   Is it really what the Mamas and the Papas were singing about in the 60s? (Maundy, Maundy, so good to me… Maundy, Maundy, it was all I hoped it would be…) 

Holy seems to mean something that we keep to ourselves and something that is confusing to outsiders.

But surely that’s not what Jesus meant by Holy.

This week I’m imagining Holy to mean broken open.  Like Jesus at the Last Supper, breaking open his body – literally, figuratively, metaphorically – and making it Holy.  Breaking open that we might receive, breaking it open that we might understand, breaking it open so that we might be included… the opposite of what we often do with “Holy”.    What if Holy Week was a week of 2 billion Christians being open to each other and the world?  Open to loving who we love, regardless of local customs; open to engaging with others no matter what the community at large might consider “proper”… open to not knowing some things, feeling other things and daring to share our special, secret traditions… open, if it might hurt… open, even if we might look foolish…  Open, like Jesus, not elevated like the Holy of Holies; but broken open to the world, willing to pour ourselves out for others.  

Imagine what kind of Holy Week we could have….

It’d sure be different… and just maybe, what we all need right about now. 

Glad I'm not preaching Palm Sunday

Good thing that I’m not preaching this week…

It’s Palm Sunday.

It happens every year and I've run out of things to say other than, “Hosanna!”

Fascinating discussion evolved in my Tuesday 8am Bible Study.  Now, to be clear, this isn't Bible Study, like you see on TV… it’s not a gathering of dour people who listen to some scripture and then look to the leader who points on an a map where all of these things took place; there are no “flannel boards” and not once have we hugged and sung “Kumbaya”.

The six to 10 people who gather on a given Tuesday have varying political views, differing theological perspectives and life experiences.  Some rush off to jobs, others are retired… (oddly, it’s the currently employed folk who hang around the longest in the morning).  The first 20 minutes are usually reserved for political discussion, world events or things that amuse us…  Pope Francis, Rob Ford, Justin Timberlake share time with Alice in Wonderland and the many creations of Charles Dickens.  We have coffee.  We often get around to talking about the scripture that will be read for the upcoming Sunday.   (note, I didn't say “always”)

This week we started to talk about Palm Sunday and whether or not Jesus staged the whole thing and if he did, was it a political statement or was it a conscious decision to “fulfill” the written prophecies.  Of course, it was agreed that no one believed in pre-destination… the idea that everything is already decided, set in motion inevitably by God.   Pre-destination seems to be come from a need or desire to see God so completely in charge; so powerful, that nothing happens that God has already ordained will happen.   If you’ve read my earlier blog on the Omni-God, you know that I have a problem with such an understanding.  It was stated with some confidence that if you went out into the streets, work places and educational institutions in and around Toronto and asked people if they believed in pre-destination, the vast, vast, almost beyond vast, majority would say “No”.  (except for a few extreme Calvinists, who knew that you were going to ask that question….).    This was a rare moment when we all seemed to be in agreement….. UNTIL

“What if you asked the question another way… what if you asked people if they really had much choice in life… or any choice…  I’ll bet a lot of people would tell you that they/we don’t really have much choice… most of what happens to us in life is inevitable”

So, we may not believe in Pre-Destiny, but many of us live our lives as if we are co-opted by fate, routine or the powers that be.   I’m not making a case here for pre-destination, but I wonder if maybe Jesus was when he arrived in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and made his way to the cross.  

Personally, I do think that Jesus made choices that lead him inevitably to the cross: He could have avoided Jerusalem at Passover, stayed in the country and stayed off the radar (perhaps those who go away for Easter Weekend do so as a religious observance, ritually saying “if only Jesus had done this); he could have slipped into town unobtrusively, he could have avoided Judas’ kiss (PDAs will get you every time), he could have engaged Pilate in a conversation, he could have pointed out that Barabbas was not such a great guy… but he went to the cross.  So that he could be resurrected? Possibly… although again, I think that he was as surprised as anyone at his resurrection that weekend.  So why go so obediently to the cross?

This is where I think that our classic depiction of the three crosses on the hill can be misleading.   Contemplating this image we can sometimes think that what happened to Jesus was remarkable or “special”.  The record suggests that it was anything but….whether the suggestions that the roads outside Jerusalem were lined with the crucified are accurate or not, it is agreed that Pilate was not reluctant to put down civil unrest by crucifixion.   Is it possible that Jesus’ foray into Jerusalem, confrontation with  and execution by the State, is meant to reveal and “unspoken” truth that if we are to be governed by an Empire based on war and the threat of war, then the death of innocents is inevitable or pre-determined?   Jesus goes obediently to the cross to be in solidarity with the tens, hundreds, even thousands put to death on crosses, to reveal the truth about such a state and our choice…

Let’s remember that Rome was not particularly bad for Judaism.  Rome allowed the Temple to stand and function, Pax Judea was a decent deal… and the economy was good under Rome… the roads were good, sanitation was good… I don’t want to sound like a scene from Monty Python’s Life of Brian, but apart from the sanitation, medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, the fresh water system and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?

Brought Peace?

Oh, peace... shut up!! 

But it all comes at a cost… If you want peace the comes from the threat  of force; of war and/or death – the cost is that political dissenters will be executed.  Innocents will inevitably be killed…. There’s nothing you can do about it.

Or you might decide that instead of that kind of state being in charge of your destiny… God is in charge.  Jesus presents the choice quite powerfully: Rome’s way… God’s way.  God’s way is revealed in his way of Jesus’ life, his parables that invite radical hospitality; question the hoarding of resources; invite us to trust and rely on one another – all very scary prospects.  And the cost?  Your life… but your life poured out willingly by you, not a life taken by the state.

I don’t know… maybe Jesus is not so political.

And I’m not preaching this Sunday, so maybe I’m going to let it go for now… but I do wonder sometimes.

The horrific rape case is Stuebenville and coverage that seems to focus on the lament the damage done to rapists’ futures as young athletes and scholars over the “actual” victim’s pain and loss.   Dare we say that in a culture that objectifies women, celebrates power and commodifies sex, it is inevitable that woman are going to be raped and rapists protected?

In a culture that demands “lower prices”  and puts the consumer’s rights above all others, could we say that it is inevitable that workers will be exploited somewhere… even if it’s our of our view?

As I consider the plight of miners and those who live near mines in South America, I am moved. But when I consider what part of my pension might be invested in those mining stocks and the economic impact my family might experience if we divest… I focus my gaze on the three crosses on the hill on Good Friday and try not to look at the hundreds of crosses lining the roads.   Could we say that in a culture that focuses on profit and economic security for some without regard for the rest; in a system that says more is better than less and that it is the responsibility of financial institutions to make the most money for their clients… it is inevitable that innocent people will suffer and die, as the fund managers say “I was just following orders… I had no choice”?

Today, I think that Jesus goes to the cross to be in solidarity with all those who die needlessly and unfairly… all those who are made to pay the price for the security and luxury of others… and I think that he does so trusting us to look around and realize that we can choose our destinies… we can follow the ways that lead to death, or the ways that lead to life… but whatever we choose, there will always be a cost.  So, spend your life… or spend somebody else’s… your choice is not pre-determined, it’s up to you.

Then again, I’m not preaching this week… 

   (God must have planned it that way)

Habemus communicationis defection est! Part II

Habemus communicationis defection est!  Still.

I was chatting with my son late last night and he quoted somebody who said something that somebody else has said to me earlier in the day...and so my mind got stuck there, even as my son likely revealed the secrets of the universe to me or what to expect from the new season of MadMen.

If God was speaking through the Cardinals when the elected the Pope, then why weren't they unanimous in their voting?

A fair question.

But one that reveals a certain understanding of God, that I do not share.

For many people this talk of “God” is about a great big bearded man in the sky, throwing lightning bolts, pulling strings, occasionally mooning Moses (look it up) and watching over Justin Beiber’s career.  With time and sophistication, we've moved away from the lightning bolts, most of us “the man” and a few of us “the beard”…. But we stick with the God who pulls strings.  A master marrionettist who makes Cardinals vote. 

I sometimes struggle with my understanding of God.  Do I choose a distant, removed clock maker who put thing in motion and then disappeared?  An eternal kid tapping on the glass of a giant ant farm?  Why would the creator such an elegant design as the universe, break in from time to time and suspend the very laws and machinations so lovingly created?   Tough to choose; hard to figure out...

What I do know is that the God that Jesus reveals is not coercive.  We can talk one day about the nature of Jesus humanity, divinity and combination skin, but for now, let’s agree that somehow, someway, Jesus reveals the nature and intent of God – either because he is so begotten, or because he’s very careful and intentional in all his actions.  Looking at Jesus very carefully tells Christians something about God… in fact, studying or following Jesus informs Christians about God more than studying or following anybody else.   

AND 

Jesus is not coercive.   

You can search the text and find a sentence that might be in tension with my assertion, but by and large – Jesus is not, himself coercive and so reveals that God is not coercive.   Jesus asks people if they want to be healed, he doesn't just show up and take leprosy away (no matter what Monty Python says)… He doesn't demand, he invites the rich man to give up his wealth… Jesus teaches in parables, inviting people to wonder and think for themselves… He doesn't impose a new order, he invites people to consider their own lives and traditions..  Not coercive, always persuasive.

That’s how I believe that God acts in the world: Persuasively.  Not pulling strings, but speaking to me from within; catching my eye and moving my heart from without; engaging my imagination and helping me to see new possibilities… to that end, almost all of my decisions are in fact, mine.  (except where my wife is involved… but that’s for the best).  My decisions are mine, influenced by God, but ultimately an expression of Norm in relation to God.  Which means that I am likely to make a different decision than Cardinal Thomas Collins  (how great is it to have a gin and lemon Cardinal?  But, I digress…)

For me, it’s almost the lack of unanimity that’s affirming to me.  It reveals to me God who is persuasive, not coercive; not imposing, but inviting… the very God that I find in the stories and experience of Jesus.

So, now... off to call my son and figure out what he was talking about last night...

Struggles with an Omni god

I struggle with an Omni-god.

Not a god that reads a defunct Sci-Fi magazine; or one that drives around in a vintage 70s Dodge automobile.   My problem is with a god who is Omnipotent.  I think that I can embrace a god who embraces all possibility and novelty; who is “already there” in the reality that my decisions create (already there in the alternatives, too)-  but still leaves the decisions to me, making me a co-creator in reality.  Perhaps that is a kind of Omniscience – all knowing… but it is in my choices; and choices of the others that the knowledge becomes evident and/or relevant.  God simply knows everything, because that is God’s nature.  Big Deal.

I suppose that’s more of an Omnipresence.  God is already “there”; always “there”… there is no “there” without God.   Again, it would seem to be a feature of God’s nature; or the nature of reality… so, again: Big Deal.

But, when I get to Omnipotent, I get into trouble.  Not simply because I am become very disappointed in a god who hasn’t fixed the things that vex me; hurt the world; make lives tragic.   But because the construct creates an untenable reality.

In trying to come to grips with the God that inspires “awe” and wanting this “awe” to be extreme, we decided that God was the smartest, lovingest, bestest, fastest, strongest thing in reality  (for brevity let’s go with the acronym SLBFS).  In fact, God is not a thing (as a thing exist within something else), but God IS reality.  And we live in God.  Except that we don’t, because we can sin and wander away from God… so, how can we wander away from that in which we live…   so, as a working hypothesis, God is IN reality, but is the smartest, lovingest, bestest, fastest, strongest for all time  (which doesn’t exist for God either).  Cross our hearts and hope to die.  (which can’t happen to God either).  Do you see how hard this all becomes??? So we settle for an Onmipotent God.  At least that we can understand.  The strongest that there can ever be!  No matter what you think the ultimate power may be – God is bigger and more powerful.

So, living with this God who is so powerful and all-knowing… when bad things happen, it must be part of God’s plan.   When thousands die in an earthquake, it must be God’s plan.  Surely, God could have save them… but as God did not, there must be a reason.  God is not cruel… (refer back to the SLBFS god), God knows it all, sees it all, controls it all… So, those that perished did so because they either deserved to die or because their deaths provided a greater benefit to the rest of us.   Sucks to be an object lesson.

With this god, there is no chaos in the universe; no random occurrence; no “real” novelty (already known by God)… but, instead, a whole lot of seemingly wanton and capricious acts of cruelty.  

And along comes Jesus and reminds his disciples that the blind man is not the result of his parents’ sin; that those who died when the towers fell were no different than those who survived or lived nowhere near… in other words, Jesus would seem to indicate that there is a random element in the universe: Shit does happen.   And there is God.

God who is revealed in Love, not in power.  The great thing about Love is that it will out… love always find a way.   Strength and power fade, it is in their nature; but Love need never fade… We can be distracted from love, waylaid and pre-occupied, but when we return, when we discover the limits of power, love comes back to life.  Again and again… and will do so always. 

I don’t know… my thoughts are half baked, as I emerge from the cocoon of my bed… there may be an Easter sermon here… at the very least there is a sense, for me, that Jesus struggled with an Omnipotent god, too – which is why he always seems to point to a different God, one of compassion and love.