Rundle Memorial United Church, Banff, Alberta
2019-07-18
2) entails obligation
3) depends upon belief in doctrine.
A Blog for Theology, Movies, and Preaching by Rev. Murray Speer
What does it mean to have an introverted minister?
Since the early 20th Century psychologists have understood that one way people differ is on a scale of “Introversion and Extraversion” (I/E). First, let’s talk about what these things do NOT describe.
An introvert is NOT always shy, and may be quite outgoing. An extravert is NOT always friendly, and may be very obnoxious. Outgoingness and friendliness are not characteristics of the I/E scale.
What the I/E scale DOES measure is where a person’s energy comes from. An introvert derives energy from within. The result is that time spent alone is refreshing, while time spent with others is draining. The extravert has an opposite experience.
Likewise, an introvert processes internally – thinking deeply before speaking, for example. On the other hand, an extravert processes externally, usually through speech. The quote attributed to Sartre, “Hell is other people at breakfast,” is from the perspective of an introvert who has to share a breakfast table with an extravert.
Approximately 25-30% of people are introverts. Some studies suggest that there is a greater proportion of introverts in ministry than in the general populace. Introvert ministers have long been confused and overburdened, because so many people expect extraverted behaviour from their ministers. At the same time, God has called those people to ministry and God made them introverts in the first place, so God must have a purpose in mind.
It is simply not true that one type of person is better for ministry than another. Each type brings certain gifts and advantages. The challenge for the minister is to stretch beyond what is comfortable, while acknowledging that a trait like this is not to be changed. The challenge for a congregation is to recognize the gifts of the minister they have, rather than wishing for the gifts of the minister they don’t have.
So what can be done?
Here are five ways to rewardingly relate to an introvert in ministry.
1. Understand that introversion is not something that a person “gets over”. It isn’t a disorder or a disability. It’s simply a different set of gifts.
2. Keep in mind that any introvert who has become a minister is probably neither shy nor stuck-up – it only seems that way if you don’t understand the I/E scale and are comparing them with extravert ministers.
3. Join your introvert minister in solitude. It’s only groups of people and high-energy conversation that are draining to an introvert. Time spent in sincere one-on-one sharing is something most introvert ministers yearn for.
4. Make some space for your introvert minister to think. When introvert ministers are quiet, it’s not usually because they don’t want to talk to you. It’s because they’re contemplating what to say next. If you open up the time and space to hear what that is, you’ll usually be rewarded.
5. Consider what your introvert minister brings to the table that an extraverted minister has more difficulty with – thinking before they speak, focusing on depth, calm confidence, articulation of complex ideas, and powers of observation.
You may think that having an introvert minister “sounds good in theory” or perhaps it “might be good for someone else”, but that it simply isn’t what you are looking for. I invite you to consider whether God is calling you to stretch yourself into new areas of living. When the Israelites in the book of Exodus were living in slavery in Egypt, God called them to stretch toward freedom, and he chose Moses – an introvert – to lead them into a new divine covenant.
Rev. Murray Speer
December 7, 2011
Harry Potter and the Ambition to Power
The magical saga of Harry Potter is a story of three men - Harry himself, his great opponent the Dark Lord Voldemort, and his teacher Professor Dumbledore. What is at stake is the tremendous power not only of magic itself, but of the wizard population’s ability to dominate and enslave non-magic folk. The ultimate decision that Harry must make is how to oppose the Dark Lord. Should he attempt to learn difficult magic or discover amazing weapons? Should he build an army and meet strength with strength?
Currently in theatres is the final film in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. The “Hallows” are three magical items which, when combined, are said to make the bearer a “master of death”. Professor Dumbledore was among those who dreamed of uniting the three hallows, but he learned early in life that his ambition to power was a destructive force, and committed himself to preventing suffering. Ambition to power was also a driving force in Voldemort’s life. In childhood he became enamored with feeling special and powerful. His desire for these things led him to devote himself to the Dark Arts of terror, murder, domination, and exploitation.
Harry Potter, however, is free of such ambition. In the first installment of the series, Harry discovers an enchanted mirror that responds to the viewer’s deepest desires. Harry’s ambitions, revealed to him by the mirror, are not to power or glory, but simply to be surrounded by a loving family and to be at peace. It is the injustice and violence around him that motivate Harry to act, not a self-serving ambition.
In the present film, Harry is presented with some of the most powerful tools and weapons in the wizarding world: a sword which only becomes stronger; a crown that enhances wisdom and intelligence; a stone that allows him to speak to dead loved ones; and the most powerful magic wand ever created. In every case, Harry resists the temptation to elevate his own power at the expense of others. Harry is finally the first wizard to ever possess all three of the Deathly Hallows precisely because he doesn’t want their power.
A story and a saying from the life of Jesus come to mind. The story is that, after he was purified by John the Baptist, Jesus retreated to a place of solitude and stayed there for 40 days without food (Matthew 4; Luke 4). During this time, he had to decide what kind of leader he would be. He faced three temptations, which I will call the temptations to power, glory, and celebrity. Jesus decided to eschew those ambitions, and instead become a servant to all, basing his ministry on direct loving encounters with people.
The saying is: When someone strikes you on one cheek, offer the other also (Matthew 5; Luke 6). This is an encouragement against submitting to domination, but it is also a warning against meeting aggression with aggression. Harry Potter could have tried to accumulate great weapons and tools and strike down Lord Voldemort with violence. Likewise he could have tried to run and hide. He eschews these options, choosing instead to trust in the power of love to defeat evil without aggression.
Whether we are Christians or not, and whether we are Potter fans or not, there is a message here for us. Ultimately, Harry’s only ambition comes true – he is surrounded by a loving family and a peaceful life. We cannot achieve love and peace by pursuing violence and power. True peace and true love can only be found when they are sought in themselves.
Rev. Murray Speer
Claresholm, Alberta
At the very start of things was God, and God decided to start things. Everything was all the same, everywhere, and nothing was itself. God blew around looking at everything, and finally decided things should start.
God spoke: Light up!
And things lit up. God liked it. Part of everything was dark, and part of everything was lit up, and God stood in between. God took the light that was lit up and shaped it into spheres. Each lit-up sphere was itself and between the spheres there was darkness. And God called the spheres “stars”.
Then God decided that there should be solid ground. So God took parts of the lit-up spheres and spun them out until they were solid globes. Each globe was itself and God made them to be companions to each other and to their stars, sharing the light and the darkness. God called the solid ground “earth”. And on the earth God made air to separate the solid ground from the darkness between the stars. And God liked it.
Then God walked on the solid ground and decided that there should also be waters on the face of the earth. God made the salty seas and the fresh rivers, the lakes and the swamps, and the rains and waterfalls. God liked it.
Then God decided that there should be life on earth. God started small, with algae and fungus. Soon there were ferns growing on the earth, and God liked it. Trees began to grow, and flowers, and vines, with wonderful fruit and beautiful colours. Each life was itself.
God spoke: Move around!
And life began to swim, and crawl, and fly, and think, and learn. God liked it very much! God put a blessing on the living things, and wished that they would bear fruit and become many.
God blew around looking at everything, and liked it all very much. Then God decided that there should be someone who could look at everything and like it in the same way. So God made human beings who could reflect on their own existence and appreciate beauty. And God made the human beings responsible for all the other living creatures, and the trees and flowers, and all the water and the solid ground.
So God made human beings, both men and women, to be like God in this way. And God put a blessing on the human beings, and wished that they would bear fruit and be many, and that they would take responsibility for the earth and everything on it.
God blew around and looked at everything one last time, and God liked it very, very much.
And God rested.
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. You put faith in God; put faith also in me.
There are many dwelling places that belong to my Father’s household. If it were not so, I should tell you so, because I go ahead of you to prepare your place.
And if I have gone and prepared a place for you, I come again and join up with you, so that where I AM, there you might also be.
And you already know the path I follow."
Thomas said to him, "Lord, we have no idea where you travel. How can we already know the path?"
Jesus said to him, "I AM the path, and I AM real, and I AM alive. No one comes to the Father without me.
If you comprehend me, you will comprehend my Father also. From now on you do comprehend him and have seen him."
Philip said to him, "Lord, explain the Father to us, and we will have all we need."
Jesus said to him, "So much time I AM with you, Philip, and you still do not comprehend me? Whoever sees me sees the Father. How do you say, ‘Explain the Father to us'?
Do you not trust that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The things that I say to you I do not speak from myself; but the Father who dwells in me does his works.
Trust me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then trust because of the works themselves.
Very truly, I tell you, the one who puts faith in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.
And if you ask for something that honours me, I will make it so, so that the Father may be honoured by way of the Son.
If you ask me for something that honours me, I myself will make it so.
Authority, Worthiness, and Marvel Comics’ Thor
Rev. Murray Speer - May 20, 2011
One of my guilty pleasures is to watch comic book movies. The current top film at the box office is Thor, based on the comic book character which is, in turn, based on classical Norse storytelling. In the movie, Thor and his people are extra-terrestrials who live in a paradise city called Asgard and can use a portal to travel to different worlds. Thor’s father Odin is the King of Asgard, and is preparing to hand the throne over to Thor. Thor, however, is proud, arrogant, impulsive, and vain. When Thor’s actions reopen an ancient conflict, his father declares him unworthy, strips him of power, and banishes him to Earth.
What is it that makes us worthy of trust and authority? We all have areas in our lives, small or big, where we are trusted by others. We all have to make decisions that will affect people around us. Unfortunately, sometimes those who have authority are not worthy of it, while those who are most trustworthy are silenced.
Jesus tells a parable of an unjust man – destined to be king - who gives three of his servants money to trade with and then departs (The Gospel of Luke, Chapter 19). When he returns, two of the servants have made great returns on the funds while the third hasn’t even earned basic interest. The King gives enormous authority to the first two, making each the governor of a large region. The third, who was unwilling to risk losing the money, is deprived even of his own wages.
Every time we look at a parable we can see something different. What I see is that the King did not ask the first servant exactly how he managed to double the money. Was it by honest means? Was anyone harmed in the process? Was there criminal activity? The King declares him “trustworthy” without any hesitation. The King is described as a hard man, reaping where he does not sow, so perhaps he approved of ruthless means. The third servant may have been unwilling because he didn’t wish to abuse, exploit, or manipulate others for his own gain. Perhaps it was out of compassion that he buried that fortune.
Thor had everything necessary to be the King of Asgard, but he wasn’t ready to be a good king. When he was banished, his hammer Mjolnir was also sent to Earth, with this enchantment: “Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall wield the power of Thor.” Late in the film, when mortal-bodied Thor is able to have compassion for others and to selflessly offer his death, his hammer finally returns to him.
Sadly, power is not always accompanied by wisdom, and authority is not always tempered by compassion. A message of Jesus’ parable and the movie Thor is that if we are wise, we will always consider the effects of our choices, act with compassion, and try to be worthy of the power that we have.
Originally posted on Facebook - May 16, 2011
The latest issue of the United Church Observer features a cover story on social media and its role in worship, spirituality, and salvation (Kevin Spurgaitis - "Alone Together"). It's one in a long line of such examinations that have, from their inception, left me bewildered and tired. I would find myself asking, "What does it matter?" What's the big deal?
This latest article ultimately, after stating both sides of the "controversy" in the strongest possible terms (which, frankly, borders on exaggeration) comes to the conclusion that what we are facing is a change in form and not of content. Actually, I take that back. The article lays all of the groundwork for that conclusion, then ultimately fails to conclude at all.
I think I've finally figured out what the big deal is. My epiphany came earlier today as I was making a photocopy of an old United Church of Canada resource pamphlet (Patricia Wells - "Welcome to the United Church of Canada: A Newcomer's Introduction to A New Creed", ca 1980). Wells writes on page 2 of the pamphlet: "The loneliness of modern life has become a cliche..."
"Ah, modern life," I thought to myself as I warmed up the copier. "How lonely it was." You see, I am not living a modern life. As a person who grew up in the last gasps of the Cold War and came of age after the events of Tiananmen Square and the Gulf War, I am living a decidedly post-modern life. "The modern world" made certain promises - which it failed to uphold. Technology will solve our problems, it said. Democracy is fair and just, it said. There is one best way to do things and progress is revealing it to us, it said. The ongoing collapse of modernity is leaving a different world in its wake, and I am a citizen of post-modernity. The post-modern world is still defining itself, but it is characterized by an emphasis on pluralism and a distrust of metanarratives - stories that tell us who we are and how we fit in, and which often serve to 'colonize' or disenfranchise us.
Henri Nouwen, in 1972's The Wounded Healer, analyzed the situation of what he called "Nuclear Man" - the human being who has the potential and the capacity to destroy all of creation and all of history in an instant. Nouwen proposed that the primary affliction of ministers and the church in the time of "nuclear man" was loneliness. He said that, in the face of annihilation of all that we know, we are overcome with a sense of powerlessness and isolation.
I believe that Nouwen was in fact analyzing the colllapse of self-image of the modern person. The moderns perceived themselves as participating in a greater narrative that would one day come to fruition. In the face of ultimate destruction, and the apparent willingness of prominent individuals to instigate it, this great narrative became flimsy indeed. The succeeding decades would see even greater assaults on that self-image, as progress began to be revealed as something for us to aspire to, rather than an historical inevitability.
It must be said that loneliness still abounds. It will always be a challenge for our communities and our churches, to identify those who are feeling isolated, insignificant, or invisible and find gentle and affirming ways to come alongside them in encouragement and friendship. But, by and large, the primary affliction of the post-modern person is NOT loneliness.
This is the eye-opener I had earlier today. This is why all of the fuss over social media has left me so bewildered. And, I believe this is why the Observer journalist failed to really draw any conclusion at all. The concern about social media as a means of community and redemption comes from a late-modernist point of view - a point of view that tells us that the primary affliction is loneliness and the role of the church is thus to be a community that gives people a social location from which to derive an identity.
"How does online media give a person an adequate social identity?" the late-modern interpreter asks. "How does it help them cope with the loss of self resulting from the collapse of modernism?"
Well, those of us who became ourselves in the wake of that collapse are NOT looking for a social identity. The end of modernism didn't take away our sense of self. Rather, it gave us one. In our world, loneliness (while still a reality) is a matter of PERSONAL, not SOCIETAL concern. Our societal concerns are different. We are looking for meaning in a world with no solid reference points. We are looking for direction in a world with no external reality. The end of the world (through nuclear holocaust, ecological collapse, or astronomical disaster) is something to be combated - but its prospect does not fill us with existential dread. My faith tells me that if I die, humanity goes on; if humanity dies, the globe goes on; if the globe dies, life nevertheless goes on, elsewhere.
Our primary concern is not loneliness and belonging, but emptiness and meaning. In other words, asking whether those who use social media are finding a "proper" sense of belonging is simply to ask the wrong question.
Post-moderns are not looking for belonging. We know where and if we belong.
The question becomes, "Is social media a valid site for finding meaning and direction in a post-modern world?"
The answer to this question is a resounding yes.
I’m going to make an assumption talking to you today. I’m going to assume that, because you’re choosing to be here on Easter Sunday morning – on the Sunday morning of a long weekend – that you’re either a Christian, or what we call a Seeker. I’m not going to say anything that I wouldn’t say to a general audience, but I would word and phrase things differently. If you don’t consider yourself a Christian or a Seeker, I hope you’ll listen anyway, even though it might feel at times that the message isn’t intended for you.
Over the last number of months I have sometimes preached about ways to live the spiritual life. First, the spiritual life has to do with mysteries. These "mysteries" are not quandaries to be solved, as though we were Poirot on the Orient Express. Nor are they questions to be answered, like the mystery of cold fusion. Finally, they aren’t secrets held by some and withheld from others.
Mysteries, the way we’ll talk about them, are things that go deeper than our understanding can follow. By contemplating them, we are drawn deeper into a sense of our own lives, and into a deeper relationship with the ground of all being. No matter how deep we go into one of these mysteries, it is never exhausted.
Second, the spiritual life has to do with rhythms. You could say that each mystery has its own rhythm – its own way of drawing us deeper into itself. I call it rhythm because a true rhythm engages our entire selves – our mental processes, as well as our emotional, and physical, and social lives.
Today is the mystery of the resurrection. If we consider ourselves Christian, and we proclaim Christ risen (Risen indeed!) then we also are risen people – resurrection people.
The rhythm of resurrection has three movements. In the terms of Easter, the three movements can be called Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
We’re all familiar with feelings of loss. Or failure. Or despair over the future. Some of us, I’m sure, are familiar with all three at the same time.
This is what Jesus’ disciples experienced on Good Friday. On Friday, there is no good news.
Friday is exemplified by W. H. Auden’s Poem:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
In our Good Friday service, we examined the possible reactions of four of Jesus' disciples. The apostle Peter wondered whether it was any good going on without him. Judas, who handed him over to the authorities, was overcome with guilt and grief, and could see no hope for the future. Mary the mother of James was convinced that as a group they had utterly failed in their task. Mary Magdalene found her perspective changed, as her devotion was now to a dead man.
This is the epitome of loss. As a community, they are fractured – splintered to pieces. When Jesus was arrested they fled, and it was every man and woman for themselves.
I’m sure some of you have experienced this level of loss. I have, in my own life. I hope that those of us who are not familiar with it will never have to go through it. The combined sense of loss, failure, and despair can often be too much for anyone to handle. Add the loneliness and isolation caused by the fracturing of community, and it can become fatal.
Thankfully for us, this is only the first movement in the rhythm of resurrection. One thing to remember about the rhythms of spirituality is that once we learn to see them, we begin to see them everywhere. One need not suffer a life-altering loss or a brush with death to understand the rhythm of this mystery. It pervades all of life.
The gospel of Matthew tells us that two days after Jesus’ death, the two Marys were sitting outside his tomb.
But he wasn’t there. As they watched, the stone was rolled away from the door. There were guards watching, also, from the moment the tomb was closed. No one went in. No one came out. But Jesus wasn’t there. There is more significance to the emptiness of the tomb than just the question of how this can be.
When we have been through a Good Friday experience, we can choose to gaze into the emptiness. We can stay, waiting, beside the thing that we have lost until our own hearts become the empty tomb. That was my own experience. I hope that none of you will ever have to feel this.
But the two Marys heard the call of God, in the form of a brilliant angel made of shining whiteness and flashing lightning. It told them that there was nothing for them in that place. It told them to go back to the beginning. Leaving the empty tomb behind is the first step towards Saturday.
Matthew doesn’t tell us how long Saturday actually lasted for the disciples. You see, the two Marys heard the call of God to return to Galilee, and they are the ones who convinced the whole group to go with them. How long did it take the group to make it back to Galilee, to the Mountain where Jesus had preached his great Sermon? A week? A year? Ten years? Matthew doesn’t say.
But they have something to sustain them. The Marys get a taste of Sunday as they’re leaving the tomb. Jesus appears to them, and reinforces the message of the angel. “Do not be afraid. I am not in the tomb. I will wait for you in Galilee.”
This is not only a story of a man dying and returning. It is a story of a community dying and returning. A story of the hearts of a small group of people dying, and returning. Their loss is reversed – it is not negated; it happened. It was real. But it is reversed. Their failure is redeemed. They CAN carry on after all. The challenges they face are mighty, but so are they. Their despair is turned to hope. It is not the same hope they had before. It can’t be. But they have hope once again.
And when they get to Galilee - a week, or a year, or a decade later - Jesus is there waiting for them. He is changed. They can see that he’s not quite the man they knew. But there he is, waiting. As he said he would be.
We might wish it could be Sunday every day. But there is brokenness in the world. Love dies. Beauty is destroyed. Christ is crucified. The gospel tells us that Friday is always followed by Sunday. But the only way to get there is to stop looking into the emptiness of our loss and despair, gather into community, and get on our way.
When we learn to see the rhythms of the spiritual life, we begin to see them everywhere. A person loses a job, and with the support of family and friends finds a new future. A family loses a child and it brings the community closer than it ever could have been. A man loses a toe or an arm and gains a new perspective on the world. A woman survives cancer and goes on to rededicate her life.
Ultimately, we are all waiting for the big Sunday to arrive. Oh, we get glimpses along the way. We hear the call of God telling us to make our way to the Mountain. We see Jesus along the way and he tells us not to be afraid – he is not in the tomb, and he will wait for us.
Christ is risen indeed.
Thanks be to God.
Part One: Peter’s Tale
I told him I would never leave him. But, I have to tell you, all this strange talk about how he would have to suffer and die - and how we would leave him to suffer alone - and that I would disown him? Me! Peter, the rock! All this strange talk was getting to be too much.
When we set out on the road for Jerusalem, we knew that big things would happen. Everywhere we went, people were listening to Jesus. REALLY listening. In every town, the local Pharisees debated with Jesus. They didn’t like that he preached resistance against the government, but they had to admit that he followed the Scriptures. And the people loved him, so the authorities had to take him seriously.
It would be the same in Jerusalem, we were sure. The people would love him, and the High Priest would have to admit that his teachings were valid. Everyone would have to take him seriously. And things would change.
We knew it was dangerous. We knew what happened to the Baptizer. Herod had him executed. We had steeled ourselves to face danger. Jesus didn’t want us to fight, but we wouldn’t listen to him. We were ready to fight and die for him. It was absurd to suggest that we would desert him. But surely nothing would happen until after the Passover festival! He would continue to teach, more and more people would listen to him, the priests would take him seriously, and the government would have to start treating us differently.
So, imagine our surprise when they came to arrest him on the night before Passover. How dare they disrespect the holiday? I drew my sword, determined that no one would stop me. But, somehow, he did stop me. And then he did something I never imagined.
He went with them, willingly. Didn’t he have confidence in us? Didn’t he think we could win a fight? Does he want us to just give up, now that we’re so close to our goal?
Part Two: Judas’ Tale
Where could I find forgiveness? I never dreamed they would send armed guards to arrest him. I never imagined they would haul him away in chains like a criminal. We thought his strange talk about having to suffer and die was just pessimism. We thought he was just selling himself short.
We’d been in Jerusalem for days and still he hadn’t met with the high priests. They refused to come out to discuss with him, and he seemed reluctant to go to them. But what if I could be the one who brought them together, where they could listen to his preaching! If I could arrange that meeting, I would be guaranteed greatness in the kingdom to come!
When I told the priests where to find him, I thought they would go alone. I thought they wanted to talk privately with him, without the audience that would gather if they went in public. But when the time came, they made a public affair of it! They brought soldiers, and invited a crowd to follow! There was nothing I could do but beg them to take him peacefully. I saw the way his other followers looked at me. As though I had betrayed them all. It was almost unbearable.
I followed them into the city. Then I realized that they weren’t going to let him explain himself. He would be convicted and thrown into prison, because he held demonstrations against them and the government.
When they brought him out, I thought that maybe I had been wrong. Maybe they had heard him, and everything would turn out okay! But he was still in chains. I followed as far as I could, until I realized where they were going. They were taking him to Pilate. I couldn’t believe it! The high priests were turning him over to the Romans! That a Jew would hand another Jew over to a heathen authority! My heart turned to water. There’s only one reason that they would hand him over to Pilate. They want him killed, and they don’t have the authority. They’ll frame him. He’ll be crucified as a terrorist.
I did this. Where could I find forgiveness?
If he dies, I’ll die too. There is no life after he dies. If I can’t live in his kingdom, I’ll take my own life. So be it.
Part Three: The Other Mary’s Tale
Magdalene and I were the only ones to stay with him through his horrible ordeal. The men all ran, including my sons James and Joseph. We saw Peter and Judas in Jerusalem, but by the time the soldiers brought Jesus out of the presidium, beaten and bleeding, they had disappeared just like the others.
I don’t blame them, really. Nobody outside our group had ever noticed us at all, through all the healings and the debates and the demonstrations. The men would squabble over who was his greatest disciple, while we got to work bandaging the sick and giving alms to the poor. This meant that they were so much more visible - so much more recognizable as his disciples.
You never know with the Roman authorities. When they go after a group like ours, sometimes they take only the leader, and other times they round everybody up to be crucified. It was probably smart for them to disappear. But that didn’t make it any easier for me and Magdalene, to watch what happened.
It was horrible when the people called for Bar-Abbas to be released. Again, I don’t blame them, really. Let me tell you about Bar-Abbas. He’s a famous bandit. He and his men live in the hills and raid caravans. They’re angry over the suffering of the poor, so they steal from the rich. But, if you ask me, they’re really doing it for themselves. How much of the wealth they steal do they give to the poor villages they left behind? Almost nothing.
But Bar-Abbas says he fights for the poor, so the poor people love him. And the people he raids are either Romans, or Jews who work with the Romans. So the people who hate Rome love Bar-Abbas. They think that a man in the hills with a sword can change things. I don’t blame them.
How quickly they forgot Jesus - the man who tried to change things by tending to their broken bodies and broken spirits. They forgot the man who tried to show them that God loves each and every one of them. They forgot the one who tried to change the world by touching their hearts and opening their eyes.
I don’t blame them, really. But it was a horrible thing to see.
Part Four: Magdalene’s Tale
What do we do now? When the Baptizer died, Jesus was there to pick up the pieces and show us a way greater than we imagined. But who will pick up the pieces now?
I remember when we first came to Jerusalem - the energy and the excitement. We thought we could change things. Show people that there is another way to resist the Romans other than violence. Jesus was building a community of people who cared for each other. Before him, all you saw was people neglecting others and focusing only on themselves. That’s what the Empire is doing to us. Pilate and Herod prefer to rule over selfish people.
We tried. We tried to show people that by caring for each other, you can have the kingdom of God.
But we didn’t change anything. We failed, and Jesus is gone. I watched him, there on the cross. I didn’t take my eyes off of him. He called out, “Why have you forsaken me?” If only he could have seen me, and known that I was there. If only he could have known that not everyone had forsaken him.
I don’t know what we’ll do next. I think we’ll find each other and talk about what happened. It’s still Passover, and Jesus would want us to be together. Then, when things have quieted down a bit and the Sabbath is over, we’ll go and see where they laid him.
We’ll do our best to pick up the pieces. But things will never be the same.
Originally posted on Facebook - March 31, 2011
Everyone knows that there are different ways of thinking of the year – the two most familiar are the “calendar year” and the “school year”. The first is divided into twelve months and starts a week after midwinter. The second is divided into terms or semesters, starts in the fall, and includes key dates like “report cards,” “finals,” and “spring break.”
The church has its own way of thinking of the year. Instead of being based on months or semesters, the church year is based on the rhythms of spiritual redemption. The church year divides into six major sections of varying lengths, each with its own focus and pattern. The most important days of the church year are Ash Wednesday, Easter, Pentecost, Christmas, and Epiphany.
The church year starts with the season of Advent, which begins on the Sunday between November 27th and December 3rd, and lasts until Christmas Eve. The Advent colour is purple or blue, and Advent music is all about waiting and watching for God’s help in the form of the Christ (who we know will be born on Christmas Day). The Scriptures for Advent are all about God’s promises to send a messiah, and how Jesus was the embodiment of that promise.
After Advent comes Christmas, which lasts for twelve days – from December 25th until January 5th. When people talk about the month of December as “the Christmas season”, they’ve got it backwards. Christmas Day is the start of the season, and the joyous celebrations should last well into the new year! December 24th was chosen as the date for Christmas Eve because it is the first day that is observably longer than the day before – so on that day we celebrate that “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.” The colour for Christmas is white, and Christmas songs are all about rejoicing and sharing the good news.
The day of Epiphany, which I call “the Mystery of Epiphany”, is January 6th. It’s the day when we mark the visit of the Magi, or Wise Ones, to the family of Jesus. Their visit is overshadowed by the threat of King Herod, who is violently protective of his own power. It’s followed by the Season of Epiphany, which lasts until Ash Wednesday. The colour of Epiphany is white, and the songs focus on the gift of light and the star of Bethlehem.
These three seasons, which can last anywhere from 63 to 103 days (this past year, it was 101), make up half the Christian ritual year.
Ash Wednesday is the beginning of Lent, and it falls 46 days before Easter. Its date can vary widely, because Easter is the first Sunday after the first Full Moon after the Spring Equinox. So, for example, in 2008 Ash Wednesday was on February 6th, while in 2011 it was on March 9th. Lent is a time for reflecting on ourselves and deepening our spiritual relationship with God. The colour for Lent is purple and Lenten songs are about examining our lives and coming to God in prayer. Lent concludes with Holy Week, when we remember the last week of Jesus’ life, culminating with the pain of his death on Good Friday. The reason we say Lent lasts 40 days and nights (when it’s actually 46) is because Sundays don’t count – they are a break from the spiritual disciplines of Lent.
Easter Sunday is the start of the seven-week season of Easter. Just like Christmas, which starts on the 24th of December and lasts twelve days, the “Easter season” happens AFTER Easter Sunday. Easter is the season of resurrection, and we use symbols like bunnies, eggs, daffodils, butterflies, lambs, and lilies to remind us that life springs forth from death. We also use the empty cross, the transformed cross (with flowering vines), and the empty tomb to remind us that not even death could conquer the power of Christ’s love. The Easter season lasts seven weeks because that is how long the scriptures say the risen Christ spent with his disciples after his resurrection. The colour for Easter is white or gold.
On the Day of Pentecost we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit. As we read in chapter 1 of the book of Genesis, the Spirit was active at the creation, brooding over the formless waters. On the day of Pentecost in the book of Acts, the apostles discover that the Spirit is with them in a powerful way. On Pentecost Sunday the liturgical colour is red and the symbols include flames, wind, birds, and other images for the Holy Spirit.
The season after Pentecost is the longest season of the church year. In 2011, it will last 23 weeks. The colour for this season is green, as it is the time when we are encouraged to grow and bear fruit for the gospel, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit and the teachings of Jesus.
The church year is an important way to experience the rhythms of redemption in our own lives, by setting aside specific times to focus on particular portions of God’s activity. Hopefully, this little introduction can help you in your own faith journey and worship life, to see how God is at work within and around you.
Perfection, Control, and TRON: Legacy
Rev. Murray Speer - December 30, 2010
For as long as I can remember, my hobby has been movies. When I was very young, a movie came out that I found difficult to understand. It was about a man who created a world that he could only see from the outside - a world of circuits and computer programs. When the world he created was under threat, he unexpectedly found himself inside and fighting - not only for his own survival, but for the future of both the computer world, and the computer corporation he helped build.
That movie was called TRON, and there is currently a sequel in theatres (TRON: Legacy). Oscar-winner Jeff Bridges reprises his dual role as “the Creator” Kevin Flynn and his creation, the program Clu. A few years after his first trip into the computer world, Flynn disappears and leaves his son bereft. The orphaned boy, Sam, now a young man, discovers his father’s secret office and follows him into “cyberspace”. Sam quickly learns that Clu, once his father’s most trusted helper, has become a tyrannical ruler obsessed with purity and perfection. Clu intends to exit cyberspace with an army, and bring his mania for perfection to the outside world. Flynn himself is in exile, for although he is the most powerful individual in cyberspace (he is the Creator after all) he has given much of his power to Clu and can’t oppose him directly without destroying everything.
The schism between Flynn and Clu took place when a miracle occurred - cyberspace gave birth to new individuals. These beings were not programs, but were intelligent, and emerged independently from nothingness. Flynn celebrated this miracle, knowing that by studying them he could solve many of humankind’s problems in the outside world. Clu, however, was created to build the “perfect system”, and to him the spontaneous arrival of unprogrammed entities was the very height of imperfection.
How do we respond when our desire for perfection is met with unexpected intrusions? The word “perfect” appears many times in the Bible in both the Old Testament/Hebrew Scriptures and the New/Christian Testament. In the Hebrew Scriptures, it is most often used NOT as an attribute but to REFER to an attribute: perfect beauty, perfect knowledge, perfect work, perfect way.
In the Christian Testament, we find the familiar commandment to “be perfect as the Father in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). This word, however, does not mean without flaw - it means something like complete, fulfilled, or mature. It is related to the word that Jesus speaks from the cross in John 19:30 when he says, “It is finished.” Furthermore, it is in the context of the commandment to love our enemies. Don’t be childish and selfish, it says. Try to “see the bigger picture” the way the heavenly Father does.
The villain Clu is motivated by feelings of rejection and anger, and his desire for perfection is twisted into a desire for control and purity, and a hatred of all that does not fit into his ordered view of things. Psychologically speaking, perfectionism is related to issues of control and fear. Late in the film, Flynn admits that it was wrong of him to instruct Clu to seek perfection. The Church in various incarnations is also guilty of this mistake. By asking people to fit perfectly into a carefully constructed order, we have misunderstood the scriptures and created psychological trauma.
The perfect system is not one that is pure and orderly. It is one that is mature rather than childish and selfish. It is one that embraces the beauty of inspiration rather than a cookie-cutter ideal. It is one that sees the bigger picture, that true security comes not from control but from respect and equal justice for all. When we tell ourselves that we are pursuing perfection, it is really control that we are after. And that, say the scriptures, is very far from what the Creator had in mind.
Intimacy and “The Social Network”
by Rev. Murray Speer - October 29, 2010
Currently in the Top 5 films at the movie box office is David Fincher’s The Social Network, the story of the origin of Facebook.com. Jesse Eisenberg plays Mark Zuckerberg, a young computer genius who is an undergraduate at Harvard University. In an opening scene, we watch as he bombs a date with a pretty girl. It becomes obvious that he is socially inept, highly ambitious, and has a grudge against the world.
The story unfolds in the context of two different lawsuits, as we shift back and forth between the two deposition hearings and the stories that are being told there. Zuckerberg continuously displays disdain for other people and their feelings, as well as for community laws and standards. He is convinced that he is superior, and therefore has the right to do what he wants. His actions are motivated by a deep-seated desire to be popular, successful, and accepted.
The problems arise for Mark when he launches the Facebook website as his own creation, when he had earlier been recruited by some upperclassmen to develop a similar site for them. Mark’s partner in the Facebook venture is his only real friend, Eduardo. As the story unfolds and the website expands to include more and more colleges in more and more cities, he gradually edges Eduardo out in favour of people who will stroke his genius and do what he says.
The story of the film is one of tragic failure, as in pursuing popularity and acceptance Zuckerberg betrays his only friend and surrounds himself with coworkers, and women, who are impressed only by his fame and money. The poignant final scene has him, online, requesting that his former college girlfriend become his Facebook “friend”, and repeatedly refreshing the webpage to see if she has accepted his request. The tragedy is that he had the opportunity to have a real relationship with her, but his misogyny and selfish ambition stood in his way. He continuously chooses the path that will, in fact, prevent him from forming true and fulfilling relationships.
In the 1960s, psychiatrist Eric Berne proposed a type of psychoanalysis called “transactional analysis”, or TA. TA breaks all human interactions down into a series of transactions, which take place on three levels. Within us, we each have an inner child, an inner adult, and an inner parent. We have all three, regardless of our age or stage of life. We relate to each other on different levels, but, says Berne, true intimacy is when we can relate on all three levels at once. Speaking from his position as a white middle-class professional in the 1960s, Berne believed that this kind of intimacy is exceedingly rare, and essentially unattainable – so we are all left to approximate it in the best way we can.
I can’t help thinking about Berne and his thoughts on intimacy, when I reflect on the story of Mark Zuckerberg. His misogyny, and his disdain for his “inferiors,” keep him aloof from the people he desperately wants to be in relationship with. He childishly believes that the Facebook project will satisfy his desire for intimacy, but all it does is further alienate him from those who truly care about him. As long as he refuses to relate to anyone from the perspective of his inner child, he will never, ever, find the friendship and love he longs for.
I agree with Berne that this kind of intimacy – relating to another person on every level – seems rare in our culture. And when we are looking at a story like The Social Network, it can indeed seem very difficult to achieve. But I am not convinced that it is as hard as Berne makes it out to be. In fact, I believe that this kind of intimacy is the very definition of the church. When we relate on every level, we are playmate, teacher, student, co-laborer, and companion to another.
To me, this is what Jesus was attempting with his disciples. We don’t have many stories of them being playful with each other (if at all), but particularly in the gospel of John we see the teacher/student roles being reversed. First, in John 11:34, his disciples invite him to “come and see” – words that were previously associated with his own teaching activities. In this moment, then, they become the leaders, and he follows them. Later, in chapter 13, Jesus washes the feet of his disciples, becoming their servant. Peter is highly reluctant to allow this – relating on every level is far too intimate for him. Finally, Jesus gives them the “new commandment”: that they love one another as he has loved them.
Whether we are Christians or not, whether we believe this is the role of the church or not, there is a lesson here for us. Mark Zuckerberg wanted his gifts and efforts to be recognized, but refused to recognize the inherent value of the people around him. Peter was happy to serve the teacher, but refused to be served as a friend. Both of them misunderstood what it truly means to be in relationship. We must be ready to greet others on all levels – those of the inner child, the inner adult, and the inner parent – and to allow them to greet us likewise. Then, and only then, will intimacy flourish. And that, if you ask me, is the key to the kingdom.
Originally posted on Facebook - October 25, 2010
“Lectio Divina” – The Golden Reading
A Modified Form by
Rev. Murray Speer
We begin by entering a contemplative time and space, where we can be relaxed, free of distractions, and focused entirely on the task at hand. Set aside at least 30 minutes for contemplation and reflection. Choose a passage that is a reasonable length – possibly only a few verses.
Lectio Divina traditionally consists of four stages, but they are difficult for “moderns” and “post-moderns” to embrace. My form retains the content of the traditional form but puts it in a new box, so to speak.
Step One (“Getting Familiar”): Read the passage silently to yourself at a comfortable rate. Do not begin to look for meaning at this time. Focus on the passage as a whole. Remember to stay relaxed.
Step Two (“Paying Attention”): Read the passage aloud, with a slow pace. This time, pay attention for words, thoughts, phrases, or images that “jump out” or have power for you. Remember to relax. You may want to use pencil and paper to write down the words that draw your focus, or to draw a picture or diagram.
Step Three (“The Spirit Works”): Ask what message God has for you in this moment of engagement with scripture. Allow the Holy Spirit to work within you and illuminate the meaning of the words. This is not an act of thought, but of prayer. Don’t forget to relax.
Step Four (“We Respond”): Take the meaning you have discerned into your heart. Let it touch and transform your deepest self. When feelings or memories arise, allow them to blossom and then speak over them the message that God has illumined for you. If you used pencil and paper in Step Three, you may want to write or draw your way through this step as well. Continue to meditate on the feelings and memories that are triggered by God’s message, until you feel release.
Step Five (“We Rest”): Relax again. Rest in the wordless embrace of God until you are ready to re-enter the world. This stage may last many minutes - do not rush yourself.
Luke 18:9-14
And now he spoke to some people who were confident in their own faithfulness and despised all the rest, and told this parable:
"Two men went up to the temple to pray. One, a Pharisee. The other, a tax-collector. The Pharisee, standing in the open, was praying:
'God, thank you that I am not like all the rest: thieves, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. I fast two times every week [instead of just once] and I give a tenth of everything I own [not only things that are normally tithed].'
"But the tax-collector stood way in the back and would not even raise his eyes upward. He kept hitting his breast, and said:
'God, show compassion to me, who is not a good Jew.'
"I tell you, when this one went down to his house he was pronounced faithful, more than the other one. Because those who raise themselves up will be brought down, and those who bring themselves down will be raised up."
Genesis 32:22-31
22 The same night he got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok.
23 He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had.
24 Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.
25 When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him.
26 Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.”
27 So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.”
28 Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.”
29 Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him.
30 So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.”
31 The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.
October 17, 2010
Murray Speer, minister of grace and preacher of the word,
to my friends in the Claresholm-Stavely Pastoral Charge.
Dear friends,
Grace to you and peace in the Lord Jesus Christ. I am writing this sermon to you in the form of a letter because I fear I will not be able to be with you this Sunday morning. I am very ill with a sinus infection and to be with you would drain me terribly. So I am asking you to share this letter together.
The reading you have just heard, from Genesis 32, has long been a favourite of mine. I can identify with Jacob, alone in the night, waiting for the dawn when he knows he must cross the river and face whatever it is that awaits him on the other side.
Perhaps I should tell you a little about what brought Jacob to this place. Jacob, the son of Isaac and Rebekah, was born only moments after his twin brother Esau. The story is that Jacob left the womb grabbing on to Esau’s ankle – so they named him Jacob, “the grabber”. We might call him “the swindler” or “the backstabber”. And that’s who he became. When he was a young man, Jacob tricked his brother Esau into signing over his inheritance. And later, he tricked his father Isaac into naming him, Jacob, his heir,over the head of his older brother.
That trick meant that Jacob had to run away. He went to work for his mother’s relative Laban, in another land. As an employee, he married both of Laban’s daughters –Rachel and Leah. Then, after a long twenty years of work, he took Laban’s daughters,all the wealth that he had acquired at Laban’s expense, and his gold statues, and made off with them. God had told him to return to his home and face the music – but at this point, Jacob was still swindling and smooth-talking his way out of every situation.
He knows that he has to return to Esau and make amends. He takes all of the extra wealth that he has accumulated and sends it off to Esau as a gift – essentially saying,I am not coming to compete with you politically or economically. I will give you the upper hand and be satisfied. But will his brother accept the offering? Tomorrow, he will find out, but he is not ready to cross the river yet. He sends everyone ahead of him– his two wives, his two mistresses, and his eleven children, and all of his employees and friends, as well as his flocks and herds and all of his goods. But he cannot bring himself to cross the river with them. Not until morning. For he knows, that no amount of smooth-talking will help him against Esau.
My friends, have you ever had a night like this? Completely alone, in the dark, unable to sleep, distraught by your own feelings, with nothing to do but wait for morning? In psychological terms, it is called “angst”, a word related to “anguish” and “anxiety”. In the language of Christian spirituality, it is called “the Dark Night of the Soul”.
During Jacob’s Dark Night, something very strange happens. He is suddenly aware of another presence. We might imagine him jumping to his feet, looking all around.“Who’s there?! Show yourself!” he might shout. And out of nowhere, he is gripped by an overwhelming power. He finds himself struggling, physically, his entire self engaged in a life-and-death wrestling match. And something very important hangs in the balance– who will he be?
You see, throughout his life, Jacob was a swindler. He could always talk his way out of anything. The one time he couldn’t, he ran. Surely he’s tempted to run again. Surely one reason he sent his entire household across the river was because some small part of him thought he might leave them and run away. By the time morning comes, he will have to decide what kind of person he will be.
His struggle lasts through the night. He is gripped so tightly that he cannot run, and there is no chance to lie, cheat, or smooth-talk his way out of this. His grief, shame, and fear are overwhelming. But something begins to shift. He realizes that this struggle is not about winning or losing. It’s about holding on. So he holds on.
The struggle is so intense that Jacob’s thigh is wrenched from its socket. But still he holds on. In this life-and-death struggle, he chooses life. He says, “I will not stop until you bless me.” Finally, his opponent asks him his name, and his grief, shame, and fear all come to a peak. “I am Jacob,” he says. “I am the grabber. The swindler. The back-stabber.” And his opponent blesses him and says, “No. Your name is Israel. The wrestler.”
Finally, Jacob is able to face his brother. No matter what happens in the morning, he can be at peace. Finally, he has earned a blessing all on his own, rather than stealing it from someone else. Finally he is his own man. He has been to the very bottom of his own soul, and discovered a will to live and a desire to fight on. But he will always be wounded from this encounter. His leg will never be the same. And he will become the father of the Hebrew people. Through him, they, and we, will always be both wounded and blessed.
Jacob can be a role model for us, my friends. Some of us may be more like his twin brother Esau. Esau never doubted himself. Esau always knew what he wanted and went for it, straightforward. Esau, the elder twin, never lied or cheated because he neither had the brain nor the heart for it. But some of us are more like Jacob. And even if we are more like Esau, there is a little Jacob in all of us. For we, too, are the spiritual descendants of Israel.
Sometimes, we have the opportunity to cross a river like Jacob did. To return home,perhaps, or to journey to a new future. Right now, the river is in front of all of us. We could leave everything behind and run. Sometimes, we do. Sometimes the future is too much for us to handle. But when we are ready, we have Jacob’s experience to guide us. First, we empty ourselves of all we have brought with us. Then, we allow ourselves to feel all of our fear, and shame, and grief. And when we reach the bottom of our souls, we cling to life and demand a blessing. It isn’t easy, and we will probably limp fora good long while.
But we will have a new name. And we will be able to freely enter the promised land of the future. And this will be our song:
“I am not who I wish to be. I am not who God would have me be. But, by the grace of God, I am not who I used to be.”
Thanks be to God.
My friends, please greet one another in peace for me after your worship is finished, and know that I hold all of you in my prayers this morning. I look forward to seeing you all again.
Blessings and love,
Murray Speer.
Luke 16:1-9
He kept speaking to his disciples: There once was a rich man who had a steward, and this one was slandered to him how he was spreading around his wealth. And he called him and said to him: “What is this I hear about you? Produce the books of your stewardship, for you can no longer steward.”
And the steward said to himself: “What will I do now that the master has removed the stewardship from me? I am not strong to dig; I am ashamed to beg. I know what I will do, so that when thrown out of the stewardship they will welcome me into their houses. “
And calling his master’s debtors one at a time, he kept speaking to them. To the first: “What do you owe to my master?” And he said one hundred barrels of oil. And he said to him, “Take your account and sit down; quickly write fifty.” To another he spoke: “And what do you owe to my master?” And he said one hundred loads of grain. He said to him, “Take your account and write eighty.”
And the master praised the steward’s unrighteousness, because he acted with insight. Because the sons of this age are more insightful than the sons of light into this age in which they live. And I say to you: Use your unrighteous wealth to make true friends for yourself, so that when this age ends they may welcome you in the eternal dwelling place.