Heathy Sprituality Part 5:
Taking Action
Healthy Spirituality Part 5: Taking Action
Text: Ezekiel: 37:1-14
Since the beginning of Lent, I’ve gone out on a limb that I’ve admittedly never done before. Doing a series of sermons that build on each other, rather than “one-offs” based on the lectionary text for the day. Since Lent is a season where we reflect on our relationship with God, it seemed appropriate to use the stories to reflect on different aspects of Healthy Spirituality. It’s certainly not a comprehensive coverage to be sure… people have written massive books on the subject… but the themes were reflecting points: taking responsibility for our relationship with God, trusting that God is there with us, taking opportunities to learn more about our faith, (something about) prayer, and finally this week, how all of that comes together into putting our faith in action.
My reflection this week goes beyond the usual suspects that we tend to think of when we say faith in action. This is more than mission work. Our actions are how we interact with people around us… in our workplace, in our homes, and certainly within our church communities. Our actions are the concrete ways we interact with the people around us, how we interact with the people we encounter. The trouble is, at least in the church, we’ve learned some habits that are not really all that healthy, and is not really reflective of faith in action.
If you’ll indulge me, I begin with a personal experience.
Last year in May, some of you may have noticed that I wasn’t here for a communion service. I had traveled to Nova Scotia to attend and participate in a memorial service for my Grandmother. She had died on December 27, 2006, but we wanted to wait until the weather on Cape Breton had improved to have the memorial service. The arrangements we made was to have a short memorial service following Sunday morning worship at St. Andrew’s. For that Sunday morning I was simply a visitor to the congregation, along with my parents, brother and other members from our extended family. In all, I think there were about sixteen of us who were visiting that morning. It was not a particularly happy occasion, despite it being Pentecost Sunday.
Even so, we joined in the morning service as we normally would in the pews… and that part went fine. The service was okay, the sermon a little dry but not horribly long, and I did my best to not be too critical. After all, I do the same thing on a weekly basis, and know how much work it can be. However, my learning experience came not from anything the minister said, but from the response we received from the people around us following the service.
As most of you have realized by now I sing in the choir. I do have some semi-professional musical training, and come by it largely in thanks to my father. My Dad served as a church organist and choir director for much of his working life. When not playing the organ, he sings tenor, and is the real anchor for that section in his home church choir. Needless to say, he’s pretty good at what he does… although never likes to make a big deal about it.
However, following the service, two ladies who had been sitting in front of him turned around and said to my Dad, “you should be in the choir.”
Not… “Hi! Welcome to St. Andrew’s!” or “Hi, are you visiting with us today?” or “Hello, we’re glad you decided to come worship with us today!” –None of that… It was “you should be in the choir.” I must say that given our current feelings at the time, this was not particularly welcome… nor was it particularly welcoming. We were there to bury my Dad’s mother… our needs were of a family in mourning… I can safely say that our pastoral “need” was not met by those who tried to recruit us into the choir.
They didn’t have to know that we were there for a memorial service. They didn’t have to know that we were going to bury my grandmother… of course not, how could they? But that’s not the point. People come through the doors of churches every Sunday for a whole host of reasons… but the last thing they need is someone trying to recruit them.
One of the things that churches as a whole have become very bad at in recent years is truly being welcoming to those who walk through our doors as guests. We have collectively become very bad hosts. It’s akin to inviting someone over for supper, and greeting them at the door with the pots and pans and asking them “what’s for dinner?” We look at new people who arrive on our doorstep in the same way that a Vampire looks for new blood. Is that healthy? No… it’s downright ghoulish… and is anything but life-giving. It seems kind of ironic given that today’s scripture readings are all about God restoring life in the face of death.
In this day and age, I think many of us can very much relate to the desolate feelings that Ezekiel invokes with the valley of dry bones. The church in North America is not what it used to be… or rather, what we remember it to have been. The vision of the valley of dry bones is one that Ezekiel used to describe the kingdom of Judah following the Babylonian invasion in the 6th century BC. The walls of Jerusalem fell, the temple was destroyed… and the people of Israel were carried off into exile. This passage conveys that sense of devastation in the aftermath, and that sense of hopelessness that was rampant at the time. The people felt cut off from God, lifeless, helpless… and it seemed as if Israel and Judah would be condemned to be a footnote in history.
But that was merely Ezekiel’s starting point. While he does eventually move to a point of hope, it’s not before he firmly establishes the starkness of that dead and lifeless image. The image of dry bones was a metaphor for the whole house of Israel… and maybe that’s something that we relate to in our churches today… that we have become a church in exile… cut off from the society around us that has dismissed us as relics of a bygone era. Unfortunately, we don’t do ourselves any favours when we look to what newcomers can do for us, rather than the other way around.
Fortunately, Ezekiel’s vision of dry bones doesn’t leave things there. He witnesses God knitting the bones together and breathing new life into them, and proclaims Israel restored. Notice that it’s not anyone coming over the horizon and picking up the bones and puts them together. No… it’s the power of God’s Holy Spirit that does this. It’s something that God does. It is a reminder that on our road to the cross, and to Easter, that God is the one who gives new life. God gives new life to us, and it is out of this that we have this great desire to share that new life with others. Seeking new life from others is completely against what we proclaim as Christians… seeking new life in Christ is what we are about… and sharing that new life with others is what God calls us to do.
That’s our faith in action. In terms of healthy spirituality, our approach to people who come into our midst should be one of giving. A healthy attitude should be, “Welcome… What can we do for you?”–not expecting anything in return.
On the occasion that new people walk through our doors, they may be coming for a whole host of reasons. Certainly when my family went to worship last Pentecost Sunday, there was not even the remotest chance of any of us even considering joining the choir. We had come because we had our own need to be there. We had come because we were in mourning, and were saying goodbye to someone that we dearly loved. Yet how often do we take into consideration that those who walk through our own doors come with needs of their own? Maybe it is one that they can articulate, maybe it’s one that they’d prefer to keep quiet. I think our task of welcoming needs to be that of the good host… In terms of our own action, that is and should always be our first priority. Maybe then we can remind ourselves that God calls us to share the new life in Christ… that is truly part of healthy spirituality.
Amen.
Text: Ezekiel: 37:1-14
Since the beginning of Lent, I’ve gone out on a limb that I’ve admittedly never done before. Doing a series of sermons that build on each other, rather than “one-offs” based on the lectionary text for the day. Since Lent is a season where we reflect on our relationship with God, it seemed appropriate to use the stories to reflect on different aspects of Healthy Spirituality. It’s certainly not a comprehensive coverage to be sure… people have written massive books on the subject… but the themes were reflecting points: taking responsibility for our relationship with God, trusting that God is there with us, taking opportunities to learn more about our faith, (something about) prayer, and finally this week, how all of that comes together into putting our faith in action.
My reflection this week goes beyond the usual suspects that we tend to think of when we say faith in action. This is more than mission work. Our actions are how we interact with people around us… in our workplace, in our homes, and certainly within our church communities. Our actions are the concrete ways we interact with the people around us, how we interact with the people we encounter. The trouble is, at least in the church, we’ve learned some habits that are not really all that healthy, and is not really reflective of faith in action.
If you’ll indulge me, I begin with a personal experience.
Last year in May, some of you may have noticed that I wasn’t here for a communion service. I had traveled to Nova Scotia to attend and participate in a memorial service for my Grandmother. She had died on December 27, 2006, but we wanted to wait until the weather on Cape Breton had improved to have the memorial service. The arrangements we made was to have a short memorial service following Sunday morning worship at St. Andrew’s. For that Sunday morning I was simply a visitor to the congregation, along with my parents, brother and other members from our extended family. In all, I think there were about sixteen of us who were visiting that morning. It was not a particularly happy occasion, despite it being Pentecost Sunday.
Even so, we joined in the morning service as we normally would in the pews… and that part went fine. The service was okay, the sermon a little dry but not horribly long, and I did my best to not be too critical. After all, I do the same thing on a weekly basis, and know how much work it can be. However, my learning experience came not from anything the minister said, but from the response we received from the people around us following the service.
As most of you have realized by now I sing in the choir. I do have some semi-professional musical training, and come by it largely in thanks to my father. My Dad served as a church organist and choir director for much of his working life. When not playing the organ, he sings tenor, and is the real anchor for that section in his home church choir. Needless to say, he’s pretty good at what he does… although never likes to make a big deal about it.
However, following the service, two ladies who had been sitting in front of him turned around and said to my Dad, “you should be in the choir.”
Not… “Hi! Welcome to St. Andrew’s!” or “Hi, are you visiting with us today?” or “Hello, we’re glad you decided to come worship with us today!” –None of that… It was “you should be in the choir.” I must say that given our current feelings at the time, this was not particularly welcome… nor was it particularly welcoming. We were there to bury my Dad’s mother… our needs were of a family in mourning… I can safely say that our pastoral “need” was not met by those who tried to recruit us into the choir.
They didn’t have to know that we were there for a memorial service. They didn’t have to know that we were going to bury my grandmother… of course not, how could they? But that’s not the point. People come through the doors of churches every Sunday for a whole host of reasons… but the last thing they need is someone trying to recruit them.
One of the things that churches as a whole have become very bad at in recent years is truly being welcoming to those who walk through our doors as guests. We have collectively become very bad hosts. It’s akin to inviting someone over for supper, and greeting them at the door with the pots and pans and asking them “what’s for dinner?” We look at new people who arrive on our doorstep in the same way that a Vampire looks for new blood. Is that healthy? No… it’s downright ghoulish… and is anything but life-giving. It seems kind of ironic given that today’s scripture readings are all about God restoring life in the face of death.
In this day and age, I think many of us can very much relate to the desolate feelings that Ezekiel invokes with the valley of dry bones. The church in North America is not what it used to be… or rather, what we remember it to have been. The vision of the valley of dry bones is one that Ezekiel used to describe the kingdom of Judah following the Babylonian invasion in the 6th century BC. The walls of Jerusalem fell, the temple was destroyed… and the people of Israel were carried off into exile. This passage conveys that sense of devastation in the aftermath, and that sense of hopelessness that was rampant at the time. The people felt cut off from God, lifeless, helpless… and it seemed as if Israel and Judah would be condemned to be a footnote in history.
But that was merely Ezekiel’s starting point. While he does eventually move to a point of hope, it’s not before he firmly establishes the starkness of that dead and lifeless image. The image of dry bones was a metaphor for the whole house of Israel… and maybe that’s something that we relate to in our churches today… that we have become a church in exile… cut off from the society around us that has dismissed us as relics of a bygone era. Unfortunately, we don’t do ourselves any favours when we look to what newcomers can do for us, rather than the other way around.
Fortunately, Ezekiel’s vision of dry bones doesn’t leave things there. He witnesses God knitting the bones together and breathing new life into them, and proclaims Israel restored. Notice that it’s not anyone coming over the horizon and picking up the bones and puts them together. No… it’s the power of God’s Holy Spirit that does this. It’s something that God does. It is a reminder that on our road to the cross, and to Easter, that God is the one who gives new life. God gives new life to us, and it is out of this that we have this great desire to share that new life with others. Seeking new life from others is completely against what we proclaim as Christians… seeking new life in Christ is what we are about… and sharing that new life with others is what God calls us to do.
That’s our faith in action. In terms of healthy spirituality, our approach to people who come into our midst should be one of giving. A healthy attitude should be, “Welcome… What can we do for you?”–not expecting anything in return.
On the occasion that new people walk through our doors, they may be coming for a whole host of reasons. Certainly when my family went to worship last Pentecost Sunday, there was not even the remotest chance of any of us even considering joining the choir. We had come because we had our own need to be there. We had come because we were in mourning, and were saying goodbye to someone that we dearly loved. Yet how often do we take into consideration that those who walk through our own doors come with needs of their own? Maybe it is one that they can articulate, maybe it’s one that they’d prefer to keep quiet. I think our task of welcoming needs to be that of the good host… In terms of our own action, that is and should always be our first priority. Maybe then we can remind ourselves that God calls us to share the new life in Christ… that is truly part of healthy spirituality.
Amen.
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