Passage: Matthew 14:22-36    

  Description: A friend of mine once told the humorous side of today’s gospel reading as he recounted the discussion between Jesus and Peter. Having watched Jesus walking on the water and wanting to prove himself, Peter steps out of the boat onto the wind tossed waves and immediately sank to the bottom. Why, exclaimed an anxious and disappointed, Peter? Why did I sink? Oh, said Jesus. I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you where the stones were! It’s a groaner, I know. And for some perhaps not all that funny. But I like it. Because, as soon as we try to explain the passage and the physics of it, we lose the story’s momentum and its meaning escapes us like air passing out of a balloon. When we read these stories, we need to remember that for the most part, people were in relationship with an enchanted world. Meaning and mystery were inextricably interwoven into God’s creation. Air, Earth, Water, Fire were evidence of powerful natural forces that gave voice to the Divine and sparked the human imagination in its search for meaning. Thunder and lightning were the properties of the gods as were windstorms and earthquakes. Against the backdrop of an enchanted world and human imagination, Jesus walks on water where the natural elements are clearly part of the drama as the wind howls and the waves are tossed. This is a story told in a Jewish context against the backdrop of a pantheon of Greek gods. And the point is the gospel’s attempt to portray Jesus as the source of divine power, truth, wisdom and the one upon whom we gaze as the icon of our faith. The gospel of Matthew calls upon the disciples and especially Peter to keep their eyes on Jesus—not the wind, not the waves, not the disruptions and not life’s turmoil’s. Matthew’s gospel is completely aware of the enchanted world along with it’s mysteries and powers. Matthew beautifully conveys this in the reaction of the disciples who try to explain the unexplainable as a dramatic paranormal experience at first. But then learn that the wisdom and compassion of the experience is really about a faith-filled relationship with the Christ. This is a message for believers—essentially for the church. When we step out of the boat and risk the elements from time to time we do so not according to our own merit, but we do so recognizing that we need faith in Jesus, otherwise we sink. The grace of course is that even when we doubt or lose our gaze, Jesus reaches out to us and helps us clamour back to safety. And remarkably through the struggles and torment, the winds cease once everyone is back in the boat. The imagery, the literary devices, the focus on Jesus as the one who is the object of our faith and the one who heals is the intent of the story. Not about how did Jesus do it. If we go down the path of how-did-Jesus-do-it by employing the disciplines of science—physics, quantum mechanics, matter and motion, we subject the gospel to an investigation to which it simply cannot respond. And because it cannot respond accordingly, this becomes the fodder for atheists who generally speaking reject religion as mere primitive science and therefore, irrelevant in a modern or post-modern world. As we unpack this a little more, I have the caring words of my dental hygienist in mind when I say, “Bear with me”.

Passage: Acts 2:1-8    

  Description: …And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Whenever the Bible tells a story about a new beginning, we can be sure that God’s spirit will be blowing through the narrative. The Spirit blows over the waters at creation’s birth; The spirit/breath of God blows into the nostrils of Adam, Jesus’s breathes upon the disciples and gives them the Holy Spirit; a mighty wind blows and tongues as if of fire rest upon the disciples and suddenly, the people of the cosmopolitan city of Jerusalem hear one another, in their own language. It’s truly beyond our imagination to be sure, and yet sparks awareness that something new is beginning. The Holy Spirit blows through the rafters and streets of the city and with that, the tradition marks the beginning of an intentional community of faith led by God’s spirit and shaped by the wisdom and teachings of the risen Christ. This is a story about beginnings. It’s designed to convey drama and foster inspiration and awe in the reader. It’s not intended to be factual or historical. This is a creation story about the early church. It draws on images of wind and flames and the amazing capacity for everyone to hear each other in their own languages. Kind of strange for our 21st century ears, I know. But, wow. I found myself sitting with the whole thing around language and understanding. Somehow, all the different peoples represented in the story are hearing each other despite their different linguistic back grounds. I love languages. I enjoy how learning a language is a doorway into culture, a way of thinking, a mindset with unique and wonderful expressions of humour, and story telling and seeing the world. Now, it’s a human defense to distrust differences and not venture far away from one’s cultural group. And, it’s painstakingly tedious to learn a language and culture and still, not entirely possible to learn it all. Yet this story goes in the opposite direction. It is not distracted by differences and diversity (the many languages and peoples are present). The story is meant for everyone. Its wisdom, compassion and justice transcend that which usually divides or excludes. The message seeks first the human heart, and that deeper expression of humanity that we all share. It is a truth that we can all hear each in our own native language. It is a truth that includes and extends beyond the Jewish world into the cosmopolitan, multi-cultural world of the time. It is a deeper “knowing” that reaches into the soul and sparks a spiritual awareness and consciousness that helps us hear and see each other.

Passage: Proverbs 8:22-36    

  Description: It has been hard watching the news in this last month. Even as we watched and wondered about the huge piles of snow melting in our yards & streets, we have been hearing day after day of the flooding in Taber area, in Vulcan County, and other parts of Alberta, and now the pictures of the St. John River in New Brunswick overflowing its banks. It is all eerily familiar, and creates that uneasiness for us, here in High River. We are a town who now knows what that means. We watch those pictures & we understand what is happening behind the scenes in homes & basements. When evacuation notice is given, we are acutely aware of what that means. Two years ago, at this time, it was the Fort McMurray fires. Last year, it was extensive fires in BC, fires & mudslides in California, multiple devastating hurricanes hitting the Caribbean and the southern US. And I haven’t even left our continent yet. It is not just because we have such immediate and easy access to news that there is this overwhelming sense of natural disasters. Statistically, there really are more natural disasters more often in our world. The climate is changing. Humans are, at least, part of the cause of that change. But my point today is not to get into a debate about how much of this is a natural cycle on the earth and how much is human caused. Humans have a part to play in addressing climate change and my point today is to talk about what it means for us as people of faith.

Passage: Luke 24:36-49    

  Description: “Have you anything to eat?” Such an ordinary question, in a situation that was far from ordinary. “Have you anything to eat?” The disciples are hiding out in the upper room, where they shared their last supper with Jesus. They are confused, frightened, lost, and alone. Jesus, their teacher and friend, has been killed by the Romans. Three years before each had made the decision to give up their livelihoods, to leave behind family and friends, and to make their life as disciples of Rabbi Jesus. They had imagined that they would spend many years at his side, learning, debating, gradually being given more roles in teaching their own students. That is how it worked. But then, suddenly, three short years into this endeavor, it was all over. Their Rabbi had been crucified. Nothing made sense. Into the void, came the fears. The authorities had seen Jesus as a challenge to their authority, a challenge to Roman rule, a challenge to the Roman enforced stability, and so they crucified what they considered to be a dissident and a rabble-rouser. It didn’t take long for the disciples to wonder if they too might be arrested and crucified. After all, they were known to be disciples of Jesus. But they hadn’t been arrested yet, not that night in the garden when Jesus was arrested, and not in the hours as they watched at a distance as Jesus died on the cross. There had been no pounding on the door, announcing the arrival of Roman soldiers to take them away. So maybe, if they laid low and stayed out of sight, they might be fine. So, they waited, startled by every little noise, wondering if this was the moment when the soldiers would come. I think of the same situation that has happened in many places throughout the centuries: Protestants worshipping in secret in the early 1500’s fearing arrest and burning at the stake or Jewish people hidden in fear or the Dutch resistance hiding from the Nazi soldiers. For the disciples, a noise did come, but it came right from the middle of the room, not from outside. The voice of Jesus said, “Peace, my friends. Don’t be afraid. It’s me, touch & see. Oh & by the way, do you have something to eat?”

Passage: John 21:1-14    

  Description: Come and have breakfast. It’s a beautiful invitation to a bunch of young fishermen who spent the night catching nothing and then, after following a rather quizzical instruction to fish on the other side of the boat, end up catching a net full of fish. It must have taken lots of hard work to pull that catch in not to mention their amazement that the net didn’t break. I wonder how many fish that net could hold—153 apparently. Any fisherman would want to know. A disappointing night, an amazing morning catch and now a simple, satisfying breakfast of fish and bread on the shore of the sea of Tiberius—AKA the sea of Galilee. There is an echo in this story that takes us back to a much larger event involving fish and bread—you might remember the story of feeding the multitudes with loaves and fishes. While no one can really know for sure, I wouldn’t be surprised if that meal didn’t happen just a few paces away from this intimate breakfast over a charcoal fire. Again, just like feeding the 5,000, this is a story of holy presence, provision, and promise. Again, it’s on the beach by the waters of the Sea of Tiberius. The narrative is so plain speaking. After these things… says the first verse of John 21, Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberius. I assume the disciples are trying to establish some kind of new normal in their lives. They go back to what they know best… fishing. But it’s not quite normal. Their lives have been changed. They pass the night in the doldrums, but at the day’s new light they find themselves in the presence of the resurrected Jesus surrounded by abundance. They are in orbit around the holy presence of God made known in the risen Christ. They are slow to realize this, but once the penny drops they recognize it and eventually, they trust it.