In July, while we were in Port Hardy, the Community that is St Columba Anglican/United Church asked me to share in their worship life. I prepared two reflection that were largely based on the experience of the journey we've shared here in Minnedosa. Though I was on a leave from official Church duties, this was like talking to a group of friends and sharing with them the incredible journey of Resurrection that has marked our path since the horrible event of February 12th ...
Since that moment when my phone rang and I was told our beloved Sanctuary was aflame, I have been overwhelmed with gratitude and awe at the responses of people from all over ... recently I was told that my tone has not always reflected that ... I was deeply saddened to hear that. I have had nothing but awe, wonder and a profound sense of gratitude since the fire ... It has, as Dickens once said - "been the best of times and the worst of times ..." but mainly, thanks to the support, care and faithful actions of countless people, it has been a time wherein the blessing have flowed all over the floor in abundance.
My thoughts in early July follow ... Looking back ... I truly been overwhelmed by the generosity we've experienced on the journey ... I think I just got too busy and too preoccupied to pause, to take of my shoes, to savour the moment, and to say - "Thanks ..." But hey - better late, then never: THANKS TO ONE AND ALL ... you've made the journey a wonderful experience inspite of the hurt and the pain ... and it is a journey just begun ...
“In the storms of life …Do Not Be Afraid …”
It is interesting for me to consider that I first preached on these lectionary readings, some five lectionary cycles ago (that would be 1991 – to save you doing the math in your head) … And in the summer of 1991, I was here … as a summer intern student as I moved my way through the process towards ordination.
Now each time I encounter the reading of David and Bathsheba I am carried back to that summer 15 years ago, and more specifically, I remember Edith Cadwallader offering me her take on King David and that temptress Bathsheba. Any time I encounter the story of David and Bathsheba, I can picture and hear Edith giving me HER take on things (I’ve been scarred for life) … it was clear to Edith that it was ALL Bathsheba’s fault … David was faultless … David was duped.
However you slice this story up and examine it, it is clear that the story of David and Bathsheba is a story of choices … bad choices compounded with bad choices, made worse with still more bad choices …
A lot has gone on in my life over those 15 years since I first debated and argued with Edith … Heck, a lot has gone on since we last met here a year ago … I have found myself at the blunt end of some bad choices that were compounded by bad choices and made worse by still more bad choices …
In recent days I’ve read a commentary on the Hebrew Scriptures that, like many of us, wrestled with what to do with this story. How did someone so highly regarded make such a heel of himself. Not only did David spy on Bathsheba, he summoned her to the palace, he slept with her, got her pregnant, then when his attempts to trick Uriah, had the poor and loyal soldier killed – all to cover up his actions …
How could the mighty and powerful and chosen by God, David do such things?? How can we still regard him as a noble and wonderful person when we know what he is capable of – and in the case of this story, see it for ourselves??
What do we do with David and his slip ups??
In many respects, David represents in a vivid way – real life …
We all make mistakes, we all screw up … we all end up doing things we wish desperately we could undo. It’s what we do with those moments that makes the difference.
The story of David and Bathsheba is clearly NOT David’s finest hour. It remains an embarrassment for modern theologians. Yet, in the story we can see and hear and experience the first stirrings of redemption and even resurrection.
On February 12th 2006, the community of Minnedosa United Church began walking a journey of resurrection. It was NOT out choice. It was foisted upon us by the actions of three misguided young people and a can of gasoline …
At two minutes to six on February 12th our phone rang for the second time that morning … Mag and I tend to ignore early morning phone calls – they are usually for her – calling her to pick up a shift at work. I got up and headed down stairs only to get to the phone when the machine picked up and the caller hung up … as I came down the stairs though, I could smell smoke. NOT a good thing in a 100 year old house … The phone rang a third time and I picked it up … it was exactly 2 minutes to 6 in the morning.
The voice on the other end said – “Shawn. Bob (the editor of the local paper), your Church is on fire … you better get down here …” I muttered something about “tell me you’re kidding …”
He wasn’t.
I threw on some clothes and tore down the street … as I stepped out my front door and looked northward towards the down town I saw a HUGE column of smoke rising over our still dark and sleeping town …
When I pulled up behind the church and saw flames flickering through the stained glass windows of the choir stall, I knew it wasn’t going to be good … By 7 am the roof of our 105 year old sanctuary was breached and the flames consumed in its entirety the sanctuary that had been built by the Presbyterians and that had been added to and renovated no less then 10 times over the last Century … The Sanctuary that had survived storms, floods and the passage of 105 years was in a matter of five hours reduced to a smouldering foundation filled with shattered wood, blackened bricks and the tattered remains of hymn books, Sunday school supplies, nursery school toys, games and shoes and the destroyed belongings of Cubs, Scouts, Sparks, Beavers, Brownies, Guides, and most painful of all was the loss of a three year old electronic organ, a new piano and hundreds upon hundreds of pieces of choral music …
Later that morning, we met in the basement of the Catholic Church where over coffee and cookies, our congregation met to weep, to rage and to shake their heads in disbelief … at 11 am, I came and brought a borrowed chalice and a half frozen loaf of bread … we celebrated communion and affirmed that we ARE a resurrection people.
Being a resurrection people means that moments like our fire, do not spell the end of our hopes and our aspirations.
Being a resurrection people means that we confront death and loss and moments when life takes a jagged turn with faith …
We pick up the pieces … we gather what we can … and we take a tentative step forward. Even when, in cases like David, when it is OUR own actions that have landed us in the soup, we take one hesitant step forward, knowing – no – believing that we WILL experience a resurrection. Knowing and believing that God will see us through the process of picking up the pieces and carrying on.
It’s about trust … trust in God, trust in ourselves, trust in our circle of family and friend.
Yet, trust is a funny thing. In moments of grief, when the pieces are scattered across the floor, it’s hard to imagine that we will again find a moment when things are “okay” and we again feel whole. But that process of carrying on demands a great deal of trust. But in our faith journey – there is an abundance of trust …
It is trust that Jesus called on when, sitting amongst a vast crowd, he manages to feed a vast multitude of people. Now, I am not one inclined to believe in hocus-pocus kinds of miracles. Instead I am more prone to take William Barclay’s lead and see this miracle as a massive change of heart …
IN Jesus day, you traveled prepared. It’s easy in a time and place where people often pack with them bottles of dasani water, or neoprene containers of cooler water, to recall that in Jesus day people traveling from village to village carried food and water with them. There were no walk-thrus or take outs. If you didn’t bring your own food – you might well starve. And you couldn’t travel far without water before dehydration set in …
So that day on the hillside, Jesus asked people to share their food.
Had I been in the crowd, I might have a chunk of dried fish and a couple of pita breads. But I’m not about to take it out and eat it, when the guy over there doesn’t have anything. Because if I share it, I won’t have enough … and all through the crowd people are thinking the same thing. You and you and you and you … all of you have food, but you don’t want to bring it out in case those beside you don’t and then you’d be obligated to share and … well, what’s a couple of hunks of bread and slice of dried fish for 5000 people ????
So we stay quiet … until a little boy steps up and say – “Sir, I’ll share my lunch …”
Then in the twinkling of an eye the crowd is transformed … “well, if the little kid can share his lunch, I guess I can too …” and out comes dozens and dozens of lunch … so much so, that there are baskets of food left over when everyone has eaten their fill …
In Minnedosa, the Catholic Church quickly stepped up and offered us their building until we get back on our feet. All of the other churches in town offered us space – but the Catholic Church worships at 9, allowing us to continue with our 11 am worship services. In time, other offers of help came - our Anglican sisters and brothers, who should be doing this for themselves, held a fundraising potluck dinner and gave us close to 1400 dollars … the Covenant Church held two special services over the Easter weekend and donated to our building fund … The stories of generousity became and continue to be legion … from all over Canada, and indeed the world came donations …
Some stood out for me. An envelope written in pencil with a note saying this was to help rebuild – a little girl sending what she could. A typed letter from a priest, now retired who was serving at St Boniface Cathedral in Winnipeg when it burned down in the late 1960’s … letters from churches who like us had lost their buildings to fire … cards from people who were touched by our story …
All around us, lunches were being shared – literally … and the crowd was being transformed. Offers of help, donations of money and gifts of hymn books, banners, collection plates and even a baptismal font … each day brought something new. Each day we were offered support and care from the crowd … people slowly pulled out what they had and shared. And the community of Minnedosa walked forward in trust. Trust in God, trust in themselves, trust in each other.
Over and over, I have continued to say – “we are a resurrection people,” we are a people who are transformed, renewed and recreated by faith …
Our building burned down – but the Church didn’t. We say it regularly as a people – we sing it – “The Church is NOT a building, the Church is not a steeple, The church is NOT a meeting place – the Church is A people …” and since February 12th we’ve lived that reality …
I wish I could say it has been an easy journey and everything has happened smoothly, but you and I both know life just ain’t like that. And a community can’t go through the destruction and loss of something as important and as central as its Church structure without lingering effects, and unexpected effects … we’ve had them. We’re still having them. We’re going to continue to have them for quite awhile … but … BUT … even though the trust was at times stretched and tested – the journey forward continues …
In June, I sat in the court room in Minnedosa along with a handful of others and we listened to the Crown read into the record the events of that horrid night. He noted that it began with the three involved making the choice to sit in the cemetery in Minnedosa and drink … then they started making their choices – bad choices … and each choice was compounded by more bad choices … and by dawn on February 12th, they were responsible for burning down the heritage structure that for 105 years, Minnedosa United Church called home …
By the end of that day, the three were sentenced to sentences ranging form 22 to 36 months … (not long enough for many) … and we were left knowing that they didn’t really see anything wrong with what they did. They took no responsibility for their actions or their choices ... and therein lies the redeeming quality of David and Bathsheba …
David messed up – in a BIG, BIG way … but David, when his house of cards fell, took responsibility for his actions. David alone stood before God and the prophet Nathan and took ownership of this mess … It didn’t undo it, it didn’t unring the bell, to use a contemporary term. But David took responsibility for his misstep, thereby offering to us an example of how to live in real life …
There will be no resurrection without responsibility. The crux of Christian theology is a call to God for help – not rescue – but help … When life takes an unexpected turn – and it does – we call out to God and seek God’s healing and help and guidance – not a divine hand that will lift us out of the muck we’ve created for ourselves. Resurrection means picking up the pieces, not rewinding the clock …
David may not be the most shining example of virtue (sorry Edith) … but he is human like the rest of us. He tried really hard … and sometimes that is all we can do … to try really hard and leave the rest in the hands of God …
We ARE a resurrection people … It is about more then hope – it is certainty that we will experience renewal and transformation – that is the promise of our faith … In that we can not only trust, but believe.
May it be so – thanks be to God … let us pray …
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