A sermon for Reformation Sunday

Readings: Job 42:1-6, 10; Mark 10:46-52

Today is Reformation Sunday - the birthday of the Protestant Church.  And, as with all birthdays, our celebrations carry memories, ritual and music. We’ve heard some of that music this morning (from Reformer Martin Luther’s hymn Ein’ Feste Burg and music by J.S. Bach, one of the foremost Reformation musicians). Tonight, in honour of this important church festival, the choir and Collegiate Orchestra will present one of Bach’s well-known Cantatas – Lobe den Herren – best known to us through the Reformation Hymn “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation”.   It’s a day when the church colours are celebratory red, beginning the season of celebrating the saints.  It’s a day to wear proudly the Presbyterian name – and the name of John Knox, our ancestor who sits in beauty in our glorious stained glass window at the back of the Church. It’s a day for celebrating the gifts of the past, which have made us who we are.

It’s on Reformation Sunday that Protestants are most likely to recall the great protestant motto:  Ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda! “Even to this day, these ancient words are a rallying cry for Presbyterians and other Reformed Christians. It is a motto that reminds us of who we are and who we intend to be.”  The Church reformed and always being reformed.[1]

On this day I invite you to pause, to ask ourselves how true we are to our heritage. 

If Luther, Calvin or Knox were to step into this church today, I think we could guarantee they would be shocked by the adornment, the ritual and the lack of decorum; things have changed mightily since the 16^th century! So have we abandoned our heritage?  And should my sermon today be calling us to the ways of our re-forming ancestors – keeping to the letter of the Re-formed way - nailing to the church door our challenges to the established church, shaping our faith lives on the sermons of Calvin, Luther and Knox - even holding to their particular prejudices against women, Catholics and Jews; singing only the music of Bach and his contemporaries?  Or does this motto of the Church reformed and always reforming call us into a place of change – perhaps challenging us to abandon all the old ways and adopt the new?  Whatever the answers to those questions, Reformation Sunday provides an opportunity for the 21^st century church to ask serious questions about its directions.

Anna Case-Winters, an American Presbyterian explains “Our Reformed motto, rightly understood, challenges both the conservative and the liberal impulses that characterize our diverse church today. It does not bless either preservation for preservation's sake or change for change's sake.  In the 16th-century context the impulse it reflected was neither liberal nor conservative, but radical, in the sense of returning to the "root." The Reformers believed the church had become corrupt, so change was needed. But it was a change in the interest of preservation and restoration of more authentic faith and life—a church reformed and always to be reformed according to the Word of God.”

...One of the serious charges church authorities hurled at the Reformers was that they were "innovating." In response, John Calvin wrote[2] "We are accused of rash and impious innovation for having ventured to propose any change at all [in] the former state of the Church." But, Calvin counters, these Reformers were not "innovating," but were restoring the church to its true nature, purified from the "innovations" that riddled the church through centuries of inattention to Scripture and theological laxity.... By submitting themselves to Scripture, the churches of the Reformation movement were purging themselves of these unwanted "innovations" and returning to a more ancient and therefore purer form of church life”[3] – closer to its source, the Way of Jesus.

This important Reformed-Presbyterian motto ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda summons us to our roots so that we too may be transformed to the likeness of Christ.  Like our ancestors of the 16^th century, we are invited to shed our blinkers, to cast off that which blinds us, and to trust the Holy Spirit to lead us into a new way of being.  All our rituals, all our traditions, all our ways of being are challenged by the Living Word so that we might become more faithful pilgrims on the Jesus Journey. 

So how do we as Reformed Christians – reformed and always reforming – open ourselves to the radical movement of the Holy Spirit?  How do we each on our daily life-journey ensure that the treasures we hold on to are of God-ness and not the corrupt ways of a human institution which has lost its way? 

Macrina Wiederkehr[4] offers a perspective on this dilemma.  “The most exasperating stranger I’ve had to walk with is myself” she writes.  I go through life juggling my tourist pilgrim heart.  There is a part of me that longs to be a pilgrim.  I was born a seeker.  I want to travel to all the holy places of the universe, including my own poor heart.  I long to stand barefoot on holy ground. ... But alas my tourist mentality begins to take over and the lens of my eye is not enough.  The memory of my heart is insufficient.  My albums fill up with pictures just in case my heart forgets.  My backpack turns into several suitcases as I begin to accumulate treasures from all these holy places.  I begin to plan for new trips and regret all of the things I’ve missed.” She tells the story of a man visiting Niagara Falls, who took out his camera, “snapped a few pictures and then rather impatiently turned to his wife and said, “OK Mabel, we’ve seen it.  Let’s go.” ... In sifting out the tourists from the pilgrims, Wiederkehr suggests “By their cameras you shall know them” (by the way we see, we will be known)... The true pilgrim is the one who has no need to capture every piece of beauty (every past tradition).  I’m always a bit envious, she reflects, as I see them sitting quietly receiving the beauty instead of trying to capture it.  They pray with the lens of their eyes and their hearts.  They are able to gaze upon, to reverence and adore.  They serve as wondrous models for those of us who find it easier to clutch, to possess, to collect.  I believe, she writes, there is a hidden pilgrim in every tourist.  I constantly juggle these two seekers in my life.  On some days the tourist wins out. But there are many times when the pilgrim in me feels at home.  Maybe I have to settle for being a tourist pilgrim.” [5]

As tourist pilgrims, we look back and forward at the same time – drawing on the wisdom and biblical interpretations of the past – and at the same time – doing in our day, what our faith ancestors have done in theirs – we travel with a spirit of pilgrim-“openness to the Word and the Spirit that formed and continues to re-form the church.”[6]

“There is a power in you, a truth in you that has not yet been tapped. 

You are blinded with a blindness that is deep for you’ve not loved the pilgrim in you yet. ...

To be a pilgrim means

to be on the move, slowly

to notice your luggage becoming lighter

to be seeking for treasures that do not rust

to be comfortable with your heart’s questions

to be moving toward the holy ground of home  with empty hands and bare feet ...

There’s a road that runs straight through your heart.  Walk on it.”[7]

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[1] Anna Case-Winters “What do Presbyterians believe about ‘Ecclesia Reformata, Semper Reformanda?’ Our misused motto”  Reprinted from the May 2004 issue of Presbyterians Today http://www.presbyterianmission.org/ministries/today/reformed/

[2] John Calvin "The Necessity of Reforming the Church”

[3] Anna Case-Winters

[4] Macrina Wiederkehr Seasons of your heart, 1991

[5] Macrina Wiederkehr “Tourists or Pilgrims?” Seasons of your heart, 1991 p.183-185

[6] Case-Winters

[7] Macrina Wiederkehr, Seasons of your heart, 1991 p.185

A sermon for October 14, 2012

Readings: Hebrews 4:12-16 ; Mark 10:17-31

I’m guessing that for most of us, at least initially, we can’t even begin to imagine ourselves in the role of the rich young ruler, who runs up to Jesus, kneels down before him and

asks, "Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"  We’re also probably a little reluctant to look at this passage with its reference to wealth and riches – perhaps even a little embarrassed that this is the reading set down for this Sunday, on which we have our annual meeting where we will be reminded yet again of financial difficulties, which surprisingly, we never seem to be freed from in this congregation.  And, we of Knox Church might also feel rather uncomfortable in hearing this particular Gospel in the company of our guests from the Presbyterian Church of Myanmar, who by their very presence remind us of our common humanity and the embarrassing riches and freedoms we experience in this country of Aotearoa-New Zealand.

But then again, perhaps this juxtaposition of discomforts might be fruitful, in helping us hear the gospel anew – fresh for this day – at this time in our lives. 

There’s an urgency in this well-known story – an urgency to get an answer to a question – a question which probably doesn’t feature highly in the thinking of many Christian people today. Eternal life?  Many of us would be quick to discount this concept.  I doubt it would fire us at the heart of our being, making us put on our running shoes to catch up with a charismatic preacher at whose feet we would embarrassingly throw ourselves as we implore him to provide us with an answer to the burning question of how we might achieve eternal life. What possible relevance is there for us today in this story?

But let’s not get caught out by the language here.  When Mark writes about Eternal Life, he’s not talking about some life-state after we die.  Eternal life, for Mark, is another way of describing the ‘already-and-not-yet’ Kin-dom of God.  What must I do to inherit Eternal Life – what must I do to live life today within God’s eternal reign – what I must do to inherit full flourishing life – aah, when we use that kind of language, perhaps we can get inside the skin and the running shoes of the rich young ruler – perhaps we can now understand his distress, his haste and his urgency.

So, let’s take ourselves into the story, rephrasing his question just a little, being (like him) the one who recognises that in spite of trying to do everything right in our lives, we are still driven to despair.  Despite the many riches in our lives, despite trying to be good people, despite giving money time and commitment to many and various mission projects, like the rich young ruler, we still find within the depths of our being, a lack of meaning, a hopelessness, an emptiness.  With the rich young ruler, we throw ourselves at the feet of Jesus, this Wisdom teacher asking – what must I do to make this world a better place?  What must I do to bring about peace and justice in this world?  What must I do to make this life full and flourishing for the whole cosmos?

It may well be that what prevents us from participating in the kin-dom’s fullness of life is our possessions, our wealth and our attitude towards them.  It would be surprising if it wasn’t that, in this Western world where personal greed dominates our thinking and everything is measured in monetary terms.  As we approach our AGM, we might like to think about how our possessions and our wealth get in the way - preventing full and flourishing life for the world.  The answer to the question “What must I do to participate in the kin-dom of God” may well lie in a very careful consideration of personal attitudes to money and possessions.

But let us not limit our reading of this gospel passage. At the beginning of this week of prayer for world peace, we might extend our consideration to ask also about the feelings, thoughts and mindsets we refuse to let go, which prevent the blossoming of peace in this world.  Is the ‘one thing we lack’ our inability to let go of resentment, our refusal to see a different point of view, our desperate need to nurse our anger? 

A story from the Buddhist tradition

Jato, was the instructor to the Emperor’s sons.  He noticed that the oldest boy was given to outbursts of anger, which could prove dangerous in later life - especially when his turn came to be Emperor.  One day in the midst of the boy’s tantrum, Jato dragged the youth to a flowering bush and thrust the prince’s hand against a cluster of feeding bees until one bee stung the boy.

The prince was so surprised that anyone would treat him so roughly that he stopped his raging.  Cradling his stinging hand he yelled at Jato, “I am going to tell my father.” 

“When you tell your father, tell him this …”

“What”

“Look at the bee.”

Together they studied the bee writhing on a leaf with its entrails torn out with the stinger.  They watched the agonized insect until it died.

“That’s the outcome of anger,” said Jato.

That night the boy told his father, who rewarded the teacher.  The boy, learnt his lesson well, and when he became emperor, reigning for a long time during a very turbulent period, was known for his quiet judgment and his unwillingness to be provoked.[1]

Whether it be our rage or our riches that we are holding onto, wise teachers like Jato – and like Jesus – expose the gaps in our self-knowledge – taking us to places we might never have considered for ourselves.  The ‘one thing we lack’ comes as a surprise; it is the attachment we hadn’t even thought about.  When we throw ourselves at the feet of Jesus, begging to know what we can do to make this world more like God’s realm, we too might be caught unawares.  Under the microscope of Jesus’ teaching, we learn what it is in our way of living that prevents this world from being a place of love, justice and peace.

The amazing good news of the Gospel is that when we are ready to ask that question ‘what must I do?’ – we find not judgment, not guilt, not shame but a wise teacher who looks on us – as he looks on the rich young ruler – with deep love. (It’s interesting to note that this man is the only person in the Gospel of Mark, that Jesus is said to love).  And from a place of compassionate love, Jesus offers a challenge which penetrates the safety barriers we have erected around ourselves. 

Jesus looked at him, loved him and said… “you lack one thing…”

The end of the gospel story is a sad one – the young man wasn’t ready – wasn’t able to give up that which tied him to his protections and precautions.  Although inspired enough to ask the question, he found its answer too perceptive, too shocking…. And, deeply grieved, he turned away – unable to follow … 

How hard it is for those of us who have wealth … how hard it is for those of us attached to our anger and our many securities …. How hard it is to enter the kin-dom of God….

Perhaps this is a day to end the sermon abruptly … and to invite each of us into ongoing reflection and response ….

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[1] Zen story from Zen Fables for Today: Stories inspired by the Zen Masters by Richard McLean