From the Bishop's Desk

Email is both a blessing and a curse. At its best it can facilitate speedy, clear communication, and help grease the gears of institutional life. At its worst, it snarls those gears, promotes bad or ineffective communication; and fans the flames of interpersonal conflict in ways that are destructive and hurtful.

I can’t tell you how many times I have been copied into a thread of reply-all email conversations, usually among Congregational Council members, where in the space of just a few hours, reputations have been maligned, feelings hurt and resignations tendered. By the time I am copied in, the damage has been done.

Conflict is something whose presence cannot be avoided in human interactions. Christ may well have promised to be present whenever two or more gather, but that doesn’t preclude the fact that those “two or more” are going to disagree with one another from time to time! It’s human nature.

When conflicts arise, they need to be addressed. How they are addressed will determine whether the conflict will be constructive or destructive. Not all conflicts can be resolved, but they can be managed in such a way that harm can be avoided.

In Matthew 18 Jesus gives some helpful advice on how we should deal with interpersonal conflict. The first and most important step is to go to the individual with whom you have a dispute and address it face to face. (If Jesus were advising us today, I think he would add the phrase “and never via text or email!!!”)

In my experience, the most destructive elements of church conflict would be avoided if people followed this primary advice. Sadly, I find that this is the step that people consistently avoid taking. Instead they carry their disputes elsewhere, thereby unleashing potentially harmful threads of recrimination that are exponentially more difficult to address than was the original cause for complaint.

The first question I ask whenever someone comes to me with a complaint about a rostered minister, council member or parishioner is, “Have you spoken to this person directly about your concern?” Ninety per cent of the time the answer is “No!” If that is the case, I provide some coaching on how they might go about doing that in a constructive way and ask them to report back after having had this conversation.

More often than not, the two parties, in meeting, are able to begin to address their differences in a constructive way. Sometime, if needed and appropriate, I may offer to convene a further conversation to help them move forward. But it’s not usually needed.

When conflicts arise, we need to talk with one another and not about one another. Follow that simple rule and you will have done a lot to reduce the harmful effects of the interpersonal conflicts that will inevitably arise in any relationship.  Do that, and you will have done a lot to build up the health and resiliency of your congregation.

The Easter morning account from John’s Gospel sets a pattern that is repeated in all the accounts of Jesus post-resurrection appearances. Jesus appears – he’s not recognized – but then, in an instant, ears and eyes are opened, and the Lord is revealed.

In most of these accounts, the disciples typically come off looking like dimwits – or, to use the kindlier description of the scriptures – as being “slow to grasp.” But are they? Really?

Most of us don’t come to faith through a purely intellectual exercise. Certainly, it wasn’t how the disciples came to a renewed faith.  In their case, faith was GIVEN – in a flash of recognition – in the calling of a name, in the breaking of bread, in the sharing of a seaside breakfast.  In each instance, faith was “given.” It was not some trophy for evidence well tallied – for a job well done; but rather, it was a gift, offered, received and then shared.

The Easter Gospel reminds us that faith always comes as an unexpected gift – a gift that is often most accessible to those whose hearts have been broken open by intense longing and profound disillusionment. In the space of a few short days, Jesus’ disciples had been lifted from the midst of a street parade and dropped into the middle of a funeral procession. But it was these aching ones that Jesus sought out, on several occasions; with “words that burned,” with the bread of life.  And in their neediness they recognized Him.  In the midst of their hurt, faith was awakened and the Lord was revealed.

As I recall the biblical stories of God’s dealings with people, as I think about the faith stories of friends and fellow believers, and my own faith story, it seems that this has always been true.  We are more likely to encounter the thin spaces between us and God when we have abandoned any illusions we hold concerning our strength, competence or control of our lives. It is when we are most keenly aware of our own poverty of spirit that we become most accessible to God’s self-revelation.

Like you, I have days where I am frightened, fearful and frustrated; days when I wonder where it is that the Lord can be found! But perhaps I need to remember that, as for the disciples of old on the Emmaus road, the burning ache within my heart may be a righteous burn signalling the presence of the Risen Lord.

These post resurrection stories of Jesus’ encounters with the disciples are more than just their stories. They are also the church’s story; my story and your story. They are not stories that “we Christians explain” so much as they are stories that “explain we Christians!” So fear not; the Lord is near! Alleluia!

Martin Luther once wrote, “The riches of music are so excellent and so precious that words fail me whenever I attempt to discuss and describe them …. In summa, next to the Word of God, the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world. It controls our thoughts, minds, hearts, and spirits…”

Over the course of this pandemic, I, like many of you, have taken the opportunity to experience a lot of the online worship experiences that our congregations have been offering. It’s been wonderful and I am so grateful for everyone who has worked so hard to make these services available to us. Of particular note, for me, has been the wonderful musical creativity that I have experienced, often by individuals and groups whose gifts for leading worship were newly discovered or newly utilized!

I don’t know about you, but when I have sung or experienced others singing or performing beautiful music at church, I feel as if I have worshipped. Conversely, it is difficult to feel that I have truly worshipped when our music is weak, doleful, and uninspired. Indeed, as highly as I regard the importance of the spoken Word in worship, I must admit that the sung Word has a much greater capacity to help me worship.

We live in an age that is blessed with an abundance of tremendously rich musical and liturgical resources representing all styles and genres. We have settings for every possible combination of instrumentation. Our musical menu includes a wealth of riches that transcend this time and space. How truly blessed we are! 

But if music is so vital a part of our collective worship experience, why is so little support and attention given to ensuring a strong, healthy music programme in many of our parishes? Many of our church musicians are poorly compensated, poorly trained and inadequately supported. They do the best they can with what they’ve got but have the capacity to do so much more if only they were supported in doing so.

Does your congregation regularly review your church musician’s compensation schedule? Do you provide funding for ongoing training and continuing education? Do you provide adequate and well maintained instruments; or an annual budget for the purchase of new music resources? Do you provide opportunities for kids with musical gifts to share those gifts in worship? If you do – way to go! If not, why not?

I’ll give the last – albeit harsh – word, again, to Dr. Luther.

“A person who gives this some thought and yet does not regard music as a marvelous creation of God, must be a clodhopper indeed and does not deserve to be called a human being; he should be permitted to hear nothing but the braying of asses and the grunting of hogs.” So there!

“Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God you are very great. You are clothed with majesty, wrapped in light as with a garment. You stretch out the heavens like a tent, you set the beams of your chambers on the waters, you make the clouds your chariot, you ride on the wings of the wind, you make the winds your messengers, fire and flame your ministers!” Ps. 104:1-4.

I love the summer. I particularly welcome the gift of a renewed appreciation for the wonders of creation. The created world comes alive for me in a special way as I visit a summer cottage, paddle a kayak or simply spend some time reading in the back garden. I experience a renewed appreciation of creation, and hopefully, a renewed appreciation of my own creatureliness!

We do not stand separate from creation. We are a part of is. As such, creation is not some superior entity to be worshipped, but rather a sibling, an expression of life with which we share kinship.

Just as one child in a family can have father’s nose and another mother’s eyes, so also can the different elements of creation reveal different aspects of our common parent. Different components of the created world reveal different characteristics of our common creator.

What does the magic of an evening sunset – no two exactly alike – tell us about our God’s creative impulses? What does the fury of a summer rainstorm tell us of God’s unbridled power and unpredictability?  What do the various shapes, sizes, colours and textures of created things tell us of our God’s playful love of variety and diversity? What does a mother’s soothing caress tell us of God’s s inexhaustible capacity to love and to care?

As you enjoy the blessings of these special summer months, may you also experience a renewed appreciation for the wonders of the created world. May you experience a renewed delight in your own creatureliness and may you be blessed to catch a fleeting glimpse of the creator’s hands and face mirrored within the wonders of this beautiful season!

And may that blessing inspire and empower you to preserve, protect and safeguard the wellbeing of our common home.

Oh Lord, how manifold are your works. In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures! Ps. 104:24

Earlier this spring I had occasion to preach on the story of the prodigal son. And as I reflected on that day’s gospel lesson, I kept asking “who is the real prodigal in this story?”

Certainly, there is the prodigal after whom this parable has been traditionally named – the son – the prodigal son who asked for, received, and then wastefully squandered his share of the father’s inheritance.

But he is not the only, or even the primary prodigal in this story. Our English word prodigal comes from the Latin term prodiger which can properly mean to be either recklessly wasteful or recklessly lavish, recklessly generous.

We see both in this story; but the identity of the primary character, or protagonist, is clear. Jesus does not begin his tale by saying there was a man who had a father and a brother. He begins it by saying “there was a man who had two sons.”  The story is primarily about the prodigal father who offers a lavish, extravagant, seemingly wasteful love to both of his children. It’s primarily about this father who loves each of his children beyond what either of them expects or deserves.

Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons.” And as the story unfolds, we find that both sons are lost; one in a fog of greed and lasciviousness and the other in a cloud of resentment and jealousy. Both are lost, but the father will let neither of them go. He is determined to love them both, not because of what they’ve done or haven’t done, but simply because of who he is! It is his nature and essence to love.

I’ve often wondered what might have happened if Jesus had decided to spin the story out further. Would the brothers be reconciled? That would tie it all up with a neat little bow, wouldn’t it? Or would there have been further acts of deception or conflict between the brothers? We just don’t know because Jesus didn’t continue the story and chose this point for the narrative to end.  We are left to only speculate.

I think Jesus stops the story here because there are no guarantees of happy endings in this life, no matter how much grace, love, forgiveness and acceptance we might receive. It is guaranteed that those blessings are and will be present for us, for such is the nature of the God who creates, redeems and sustains us.  But what we do with those blessings is another matter entirely.

At our best, we treasure those blessings and share them with a generous prodigal abandon. And when at our worst, we wastefully squander them with a prodigal abandon of quite a different kind. Both inclinations are amply evident in our history and in our lived life today as church.

Our God is a prodigal God who gifts us our church with an abundance of blessing. Blessings of word, sacrament, prayer, song and fellowship. We are privileged to receive those gifts in such prodigal abundance. We dare not take them for granted.  May we receive them with the deep, deep gratitude they warrant and share them with a similarly prodigal abandonment.

You will have received this issue of Canada Lutheran shortly after our celebration of Easter Sunday. This article, however, has been written in mid-February, one week prior to Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent.

Most of our congregations resumed in-person worship this past Sunday with a few to follow in the next few weeks. Government restrictions are being reduced in all four provinces where our synod is present and we are tentatively hoping that our Easter worship will, for the most part, be reminiscent of our pre-pandemic celebrations of the Lord’s resurrection. We shall see.

I find it instructive to remember that the post-resurrection Christ still bore the marks of his crucifixion. Indeed, when he first appears among his disciples, he specifically shows them his wounds, saying, “Touch me and see.”   A week later, he appears again, making a similar revelation to Thomas. Jesus in his post-resurrected form, still bore the marks of his suffering. I suspect that will similarly be true for the church when it physically gathers in its post-pandemic form. We will still bear wounds.

I wonder what impact this virus will have had on how we experience Holy Communion. Will it be safe to eat and drink from a single loaf and a common cup? Will it be safe to share the peace of Christ with actions that include physical touch and not merely a nod or bow? When will I next tuck into a good old congregational potluck with all its attendant tastes, fragrances, and spirited table conversations? How long will the songs of the saints be muffled by the squares of fabric we’ve dutifully worn for more than two years to help protect one another’s safety? I just don’t know.

But just as Jesus’ wounds, though still evident post resurrection, did not define the totality of Jesus’ resurrected being, neither will our pandemic wounds define the totality of the church’s post-pandemic experience. That’s important for us to remember! Indeed, new experiences of being church have come to life during the past two years and I pray we have the good sense to lean into them.

We’ve learned that on-line experiences of worship and gathering can make our assemblies much more accessible. We’ve learned that we can stray beyond the sharply delineated lines of congregational bounds to establish new connections and partnerships. We’ve learned how to better collaborate and share gifts with one another. Many of us have experienced a reset in how we understand the relationship between the people who comprise the church and the buildings in which those people gather.

Those learnings were largely unexpected and certainly came unbidden, as do all gifts of grace! I pray that we treasure them as the precious gifts they are, gifts that may bear possibilities for renewed life and resurrection.  

“But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies.”                      2 Corinthians 4:7-10