PRAYER FOR COURAGE

O Saviour, who didst set thy face steadfastly to go to Jerusalem to thy Cross and passion: help us, thy weak and wavering disciples, to be firm and resolute in doing those things that lie before us.

Help us to overcome difficulties and to persevere in spite of failures.

When we are weary and disheartened and ready to give in, do thou fill us with fresh courage and strength, and keep us faithfully to our work; for thy name's sake.  

Amen

Taken from the Divine Service Book for the Armed Forces, 1950.

CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN

The following story was a sermon delivered by Thom McDonough on September 23, 2012, at Goulais United Church

Once upon a time, there was a man who lived at the base of a mountain.  As he tended his garden, and it was a  wonderful garden giving all the food that he needed, he would often look up the mountain.  He would watch the clouds come scooting along towards it and then be forced up into the air, dropping the rain as they went higher.

He was thankful for the rain because it watered his garden and provided water for the stream that flowed by.  He often wondered what it would be like to climb that mountain.

One day, as he was out in his garden, tending to his vegetables, the fruit trees and the flowers, he looked up to see a stranger leaning on the stone fence.  The stranger had a pleasant face and the man, being kindly and very hospitable, asked the stranger if he would like a drink and something to eat.  The man thought the stranger looked weary from travel.

The stranger said that his offer was most welcome and yes, he would like to take a break for some water and fruit.   So the man provided a pitcher of cool water and cut open a fresh melon that was sweet and juicy.  As they sat in the shade of a vine, they chatted about the weather and the world in a way that men do.

Then the stranger asked the man, have you never left this place.  “Oh, no” said the man, “I am content to work in my garden and around the house. There is enough here for me.”

“But you do so well,” said the stranger.  “I’ve heard about you from others on the road.  They say you are kind and generous and I have experienced your hospitality.  You have been here for some time.  Isn’t there anything else you would like to do?”

The man replied, “It is comfortable here, doing what I know the best.  I have all that I need.”  But as he spoke, his eyes drifted off towards the mountain.  The stranger said, “Have you never thought about climbing the mountain, to see what is up there?”

“Oh, I could never do that” replied the man.  I am just a farmer, not an adventurer.  Leave the comfort of doing what I know?  No, I don’t think I could do that.  

But there may be others who need your skills and knowledge said the stranger.  You can never tell what you might discover if you leave this comfortable place.  You have much to share with others.  You know kindness.  You show love for your neighbours and even a stranger such as I. Why don’t you climb the mountain and share what you have learned?

The melon was finished and the water, drank.  The stranger thanked the man and asked him to consider what he had said.  The man just smiled and shook his head, thinking, “no, I really couldn’t do that.”

But the words of the stranger stayed with him.  As he tended his garden, the words seemed to be berating him.  “Go and proclaim the good that you know.”

One morning, without really knowing why, he took his tools and put them in his shed.  He took a bag with some food, a change of his clothing, and some seeds, shut the door to his home and began the climb to the mountain top.

Well, he said to himself as he entered the rolling hills, this isn’t so difficult.  Hours later, still climbing, with the sweat pouring off his brow, his confidence was waning - but a voice called him on.

Struggling up a steep cliff, he came to a plateau and saw a village.  Actually, he heard the sound of people first.  They were weeping.  From the sounds of it, they were in great distress.  Entering the village he came upon the people in the square.  Asking of their grief, they told him that the food they gathered from the mountain forest had been scarce.  The young children were dying of starvation.  The people were hungry and it was very hard on the elderly.

The man asked them why they did not grow their own food.  All replied that no one had shown them how.  So the man showed them how to gather what few wild crops were still available and how to take the seeds from them.  He showed them how to till the land, how to plant the seeds.  He showed them how to harvest the food and to store it for times when food was scarce.  He showed them how to share.

He had been so busy, the man did not feel the years slip away.  His bones were stiffer now - he ached in places he hadn’t before.  But finally he said he had to leave, because he wanted to climb to the mountain top.  

As he left, he thought of the village and how, now, he heard laughing.  The children were healthy, the elderly lived long lives.  The village had become a community - they cared for each other, helped each other.

And so he climbed higher.  After a number of days, he thought he heard thunder, yet the skies were clear.  Climbing along the mountain trail he come to a fork in the road, one leading west, the other east.  

From the east came a horde of riders galloping as fast as they could.  Behind came another group riding madly, gesturing angrily at the riders in front.  In the distance, the man could see smoke rising from homes on fire.

The two groups thundered past.   In a short time he heard thunder to the west and saw smoke rising from homes set afire.  

He stopped to rest at this fork in the road.  The scene was repeated the next week and the next.  Back and forth the groups chased each other.

With a sigh the man opened his sack, took some seeds.  Using a piece of wood that he fashioned into a hoe, he began to create a small garden.  He built himself a shelter.  He piled stones around the garden.

At first the riders paid him no attention as they chased each other back and forth across the ground.  But as the man tilled his garden even larger, soon they had to ride around it.

Finally, the riders from the east stopped their chase and asked the man, what in the world he was doing.  “Growing food,” said the man.   “Don’t you just take what you need from others” said the riders?  “No,” said the man.  “There is no need to do so, I grow my own and I also share it. And really, I don’t believe one should take what others have worked to grow.”  

Soon, the riders from the west came back wondering why they were not being pursued.  They asked the same questions of the man.    They wondered at his strange words, about simply growing one’s own food; not just taking.  

Not everyone thought this was a good idea, but one or two riders from both sides were interested and they worked at fields beside the man.  Soon a few more joined in the growing.  The riders chasing each other were fewer.  Then, they stopped.

No more houses were destroyed.  The people ate the food they produced.  They set up a market at the cross roads to trade.  Children learned to be farmers rather than riders.  Horses were used to till the fields, not for raiding.

The man had been so busy that he had not realized how the years had slipped by.  He had not realized how old he had become.  He looked down the mountain side and in the distant plain, he could see his old home - there appeared to be someone living there - smoke rose from the chimney, the fields looked good. He smiled.

He looked halfway down the mountainside and saw the first village he had stopped at.  All seemed to be well.  Some the villagers where now coming up to trade at the market that had been built at the cross road.  He smiled but felt so tired.  Maybe he would stay a little longer and climb to the top of the mountain in a month or so.   

Later that week, as he sat in the shade of the vine growing outside his small shelter, the stranger who had set him on his journey came walking up the road.  “You have been busy,” said the stranger.   “But I haven’t made it to the mountain top.” said the man.  

“Ah,” said the stranger.  “It isn’t about getting to the top that is important.  It is the journey and what you have done on your way that is important.  You have been a teacher, a peace maker.  You have shared your wisdom and have proclaimed the good you know.   You have made a difference in the lives of others and peace has come.”

Three days later, the man who proclaimed good things passed away.

Who was the stranger?  I don’t know, but I do know that God calls us to go into the world to proclaim good news.  Who was the man?  I don’t know - he could have been a she - could have been you or me.

We are called to journey.  We are called to climb the mountain of life - a mountain that is beset with obstacles to our journey, full of hardships, dangers, disappointments and yet - full of loving potential.

God does not measure our effort on whether or not we climb to the mountain top.  God calls us on a journey of faith to create a new earth, where we find it is needed.  God does not ask us to stay where we are comfortable.  It is the journey to proclaim Good News that is important.  

And as we climb God’s holy mountain, we know that nothing in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

It is the journey and what we do on that journey, that is important.  Amen.

IS THERE A PURPOSE TO COLLAPSE?

I am compelled by life circumstances to ask the question: Is there a purpose to collapse?  I think there is, but I'll get to that in a bit.

As I look around me, I detect many signs of collapse at many different levels.  The levels almost don't matter; if I experience the sense of collapse, then the level is in some way, always personal.  And, so I do - experience a sense of collapse, for myself and those around me.  Collapse of people and of things.  Collapse in health, collapse in confidence, collapse in purpose, collapse in strength...you might be able to add to that list.

From a scientific perspective, collapse is linked to implosion.  That is, a circumstance when "objects are destroyed by collapsing on themselves.  Implosion concentrates matter and energy.  Implosion involves a difference between inward and outward forces, so large that the structure collapses inward into itself."  That scientific explanation just about says it all...except for the grief, pain, stress, sense of loss and helplessness, all the human elements that are involved in collapse.  It's the human or personal aspects of collapse that are so daunting and which have brought me to the point of asking the question of "purpose". 

Is collapse "natural", something that is a part of nature?  If it is, any attempt to prevent it will ultimately fail.  If it's not part of nature (i.e., it is something that is a product of human action or inaction), then can we prevent it and how would we do that?  As living beings, are we a catalyst to collapse?  I know...too many questions!

On a recent walk along a nearby side-road, I arrived at some personal conclusions which I offer to share, along with the all the questions I posed.  My feelings and response to collapse change depending on whether I am inside the fall or outside it.  When I am an active player in collapse (a "stakeholder" as they say), my tendency is to fight it, to analyze it, to make plans, to take action.  Sometimes this action is helpful; collapse can be forestalled but only, as it turns out, in the sense of delay.  When I am on the outside of collapse and looking in, it is easy to take a calmer approach.  Danger looms when calmness becomes disconnectedness.

Inside or out, I conclude that times of collapse are opportunities for discernment.  Some time ago, a woman who was at a different place on her faith journey than I am, gave me a hint of that when she warned that in being so deeply invested in church life, I was in danger of not being able to foresee the likely outcome of my actions.  And so I recognize that in the midst of collapse, if I can find the focus for it, there is the need to see and understand people, things and situations with clarity and intelligence.  There is a need to re-examine the values that have been declared as important, to see if that still holds true.  There is a need to weigh priorities.  It is a time for choices - not "yes" or "no", but perhaps "both/and".  Above all, there is a need to treat everyone involved with kindness, fairness and with love.

By the end of my morning walk, I had regained most of my resolve and determination: I can do discernment.  Part of my hope in the outcome of collapse is the understanding that in Creation, collapse leads to a new equilibrium, a regaining of balance.  It's won't be the same as before, but it can be better, stronger, clearer and truer.  That's my hope.

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