Sermon: The Images of God in the Reversed World (Matthew 22:15-22), Oct 23rd, 2022

Sermon: The Images of God in the Reversed World   

(Scripture: Matthew 22:15-22)

After the ConXion service, Oct 23rd, 2022,
celebrating the Matty's Birthday at Broad View United, Victoria 

“The Images of God in the Reversed World” Doesn’t it sound like a fiction title, something like my teenager would read from his favourite Japanese animation? ...

... What are the images of God for, and in, the Reversed World... the Kingdom of God? ... The world Jesus was proposing, “A community resistant to the programme of Rome”? 

The images of God in and for a community resistant to the dominant power, that counters the normalization of oppression. ...

... This world in reverse would also encompass Jesus’ eschatological vision (which means the end of the world of as it is now, anticipating the alternative world to come). In this vision, in this world of reversal, the last becomes first and the least and the lost are not only found, but lifted up. What are the images of God that we are called to lift up?

Some years ago, I had the pleasure of leading a youth group, and one high school kid, Kelly, said the Kingdom of God almost sounds like an “inverted” world. He liked the word a lot, inversion. He said he learned it from Physics class. So, in our discussion on Sunday morning, myself and a handful of young people were journeying towards insight… We caught something about the character of the Kingdom of God… It is different from the power and order of here and now, of the present world… or of the past. It’s at least inverted. It’s a world in reverse. The key principles about life, the definition of abundant life, is turned upside down. The table of the Roman Empire is flipped.

Some years ago, I met Marie at church. (I changed the name. The person gave me the permission to write this story in sermon.) She came to a Sunday morning service just after New Year’s Day. Her hair was handsome and short in a two-block cut, just as mine is now. Her eyes sparkled with intense interest, looking forward to something. She was looking for something. After worship, I approached her and asked, “Tell me one thing about you and one thing you are most interested in today.” She said, she has been reading Kwok Pui-lan’s book, (Pui-lan is a super-renowned scholar, known globally for her Asian American women’s theology). I knew right away we could be friends. To get to know each other as clergy and parishioner, and also as friends, one spring day, we walked beside the river at the Forks (where “the two rivers meet” in Winnipeg), and she told me a story about something that sustained her through the most difficult time in her life. 

When she was in school, a professor brought up a question… What if? … Or Imagine … Or just LIVE as if, and not just as if, but truly as if the world is in reverse. Even here and now. As if the world has been turned upside down. A world in reverse.

The world upside down or backwards or as it could be.

Marie told me, in that moment when her professor put the question forward, she thought of a world where all of us were queer, or most people whom she met were queer… and then, that reversed reality would change her life and her engagement with the world. She understood, then, that even in the world of now, she can live “the As-If-World”, with confidence, authenticity, and trust and love about herself and others.

Have you ever been in a lake, or on a river, and seen another world reflected on the surface of the water? (Show the picture). The forest above, and the forest in the water. And you stand on the horizon in between, looking at the two forests. It also could look like the water holds two kinds of heavens above and below, when the water is a mirror for them. I love Emily Dickinson’s poems; in one poem, she illustrated that sitting under her favourite tree, she realized that she was in the middle of the two kinds of tree: The tree above her and the roots under her and under the ground, which must be the size of the tree above. The world is full and filled with two BIG trees. Leaning against her tree, Emily Dickinson sits and composes herself between the two trees, the two worlds. The three worlds: The skyworld, the rootworld, and her poem. (I use these three images from the Call to Worship this Sunday).

That’s one image of God… The Root. The image of God in the reversed world. It is specific, concrete, but at the same time it requires us to imagine with the power of wonder. The image of God is not something you can inscribe on coins permanently; you can only touch it through who you are, through your struggles and your pursuit of justice. Touching our strength is constant work. That’s the image of God I am suggesting… The image of God, in the world, reversed in order. The order of who is the last, first, lost, and found. 

Then, the next question for you, and for me: How specific can an image of God be? It’s our theme question this Sunday. How specific can an image of God be, in and for the world of radical reversal? What is the Root Image that would enable the tree of hope, love, justice, to grow with vigrour, above the ground? 

When I first encountered the term, or the phrase, or the image, “Gay God” in “Radical Love: An Introduction to Queer Theology”, written by Patrick Cheng, I was shocked. Quote: “For example, the September 1972 issue of the Gay Christian, a newsletter of the Metropolitan Community Church of New York, featured a number of articles about “gay theology”. Howard Wells, the pastor of MCC New York at the time, wrote a provocative piece called “Gay God, Gay Theology” in which he described how the gay community has the right to refer to God — whom he called “our liberator, our redeemer” as our “Gay God”.”

I was shocked because the concept of God, the image of the Resurrected One, was, in my mind, too specific. That was my first response. Can an image of God be so specific, such as Gay God? Hadn’t I learned over the years in Theological School, and also at church, that God’s love is Universal, and God is Universal for ALL? Is this very specific image of God as Gay God or any other specific image, able to, even is it legitimate, serve the world? I will leave the answer to you, to your own power of wonder. 

How about Father God? Isn’t that image also very specific? What kind of specific and alternative image of God can empower the “disenfranchised” in the world? A new understanding of God has the power to change how we engage with the world, how we live in and for the world in reverse, the Kingdom of God. When God’s image is too abstract and distant from our life, here at the grassroots, it might serve, without being questioned, the agenda of the powerful.

Wonder is one way to practice queering religion, queering faith, queering the world. Jose Munoz, the deceased queer theory scholar in Cuba, said, in Cruising Utopia, 

“Utopia lets us imagine a space outside of _________ (for him, heteronormativity). It permits us to conceptualize new worlds and activities that are not constrained by ________ (please add your reflection here).” 

Try imagining, in that blank space, a Kingdom that is not constrained by, “on-going colonization” “racism” “fossil companies and banks that fund a climate emergency” and see what they feel like. 

 

Munoz continues, “More important, utopia offers us a critique of the present of what is, by casting a picture of what can and perhaps will be.”

 

One more Munoz quote: “Queerness is … not simply a being but a doing for and toward the future. 

Queerness is essentially about ___rejecting_____ (he said “rejection”. You can use other wording.) the here and now and an insistence on the concrete possibility of another world.”

 

Could this be inviting us to get closer to the fuller definition of the Kingdom of God? Just like when Kelly in the youth group wondered if, perhaps, the Kingdom of God is like the world, inverted by the radical love of a Queering, anti-normalizing God. God who empowers the disenfranchised, lifting up the lost, least, last first and loving them first. Loving all first.

 

This is for now. Today, I shared with you just a few examples of the images of God in and for the reversed world.

We can look for more, search more, find more, celebrate more, because we have lots of time. Advent. Lent. Easter. Pentecost. Today, with the spirit of stewardship, let us invest in the images of God in the reversed world. Let us turn the table of _________ (your words here, for Empire) upside down in faith and wonder. 

Sermon: The Image of God We are Grateful For (Matthew 22:15-22), Thanksgiving Sunday, 2022

Sermon: The Image of God We are Grateful For 

 

In today’s story, Jesus is stuck! He is put in a very tricky spot. The Pharisees and the Herodians, two groups which normally have little to do with each other — The Herodians, who derive their power from the Roman occupiers, and the Pharisees, who align more closely with the occupied and oppressed commoners — declare a temporary truce in order to work together to trap Jesus. These two groups are deeply unhappy about Jesus, this upstart rabbi, and what he has been doing over the previous day, the previous week – even the previous month. What inspired these two different, powerful groups to collaborate? Some time ago, Jesus made a visit to Jerusalem, entered the Temple and overthrew the tables of the money changers. He challenged both the political and religious powers with that dramatic action. ...

Scripture: Matthew 22:15-22

So, in today’s story, the Pharisees and the Herodians compose the perfect question to entrap Jesus, asking Jesus whether it is lawful to pay the imperial tax that funds the Roman occupation. 

 

Should Jesus answer in the affirmative, the adoration of the crowds would likely not only evaporate; it could violently whiplash into opposition. Should Jesus answer negatively, however, then he will have openly positioned himself as opposing the Roman occupation, which is never a wise thing to do. So, they’ve got Jesus trapped.

 

Or as least that’s what they think. Now Jesus, “Wise like a serpent, gentle like a dove” (Matthew 10:16), makes an interesting, ingenious breakthrough… 

 

I have two kids, aged 16 and 11. Their schools start at 8:30 am, and some days, they are still at the kitchen table, fallen into an argument at 8:15 or 8:20! I remind them… “Guys, there’s no end to this debate, because it started with the wrong question!” The questions that tend to cause conflict and hurt are not put on the table for the benefit of the other person. It’s wise sometimes just to let go and to not fall in the direction that the questioner wants to take. I commend that Jesus uses a better strategy. Rather than being distracted by the limited answers that Jesus’ foes have assumed will hurt him, Jesus gets away from the trap like a shrewd serpent, and instead responds by asking a harmless question in return. “Show me the coin used for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. Then, Jesus asks them, “Whose head [Greek: image ikon] is this, and whose title?”

 

It’s the coin of the Empire — the only coin that could be used to pay the tax in question.  Roman coins with their images of the emperor on them were not permitted to be used in the Jerusalem temple for offerings. The denarius is the specific coin that is required to be used to pay the Roman tax. It is a Roman coin. And on that coin is the image of the Roman Emperor, and his title is printed, for example, “Tiberius, Emperor, son of God”. Thus, the coin violates the Jewish commandment to have no other Gods except for Yahweh. It was a violation of the core faith of the Hebrew people. 

 

Jesus asks whose image is on it. 

 

And the Pharisees and the Herodians answer “The Emperor’s.” 

 

They are holding a coin with an engraved confession of Caesar’s divinity, the declaration of the ultimate authority and the rights to govern and control the far-flung empire, asserting Rome’s power over every town and city and person in the known world. But not their souls, and not their Gods.

There are many good ways to look at today’s story — different understandings and interpretive focus, all of which can be valid; the diversity inspires us in a variety of ways, helping us to learn about each other’s context in life and ministry. 

 

And, today is Thanksgiving Sunday - the first Sunday for us to start thinking about the meaning of stewardship and relevant ways to practice it in our life’s context, and in our present, complex times.

 

So, I have decided to present to you a question, inspired by Jesus’s breakthrough declaration: ”Give, therefore, to Caesar, the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” 

 

What is the Image of God you are grateful for? 

 

If you are asked to think about the counter-cultural one, theological one, the living image of God that would inspire us to nurture hopes, share dreams, build gratitude, spread the vision for God’s world and for ourselves, would it be one of those? How are they different from the image or the images of the Empire… The images of excessive capitalism or excessive individualism, White supremacy, classism, the Doctrine of Discovery, heterosexual patriarchal normativity, ableism, — you name it —… What are the counter-cultural images you find in the world, alternative visions, concepts, ideas, things, arts, poems, that inspire a different worldview? And how can we preserve or change the world, with the Imago Dei (the image of God) in such visions, as the new currency of God’s realm, creatively, collaboratively, collectively, as children of God? Can this be what a church can do?

 

The opening chapter of Genesis shares the verse that we can relate to, as we ask these questions: “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness.” 

 

‘Likeness’ in Genesis — ikon — is the same Greek word used in Jesus’s question in today’s story, ““Whose head [ ikon] is this, and whose title?” So, Jesus is really asking, “Whose likeness is this on this coin, and what title?” Jesus‘ word choice reminds us of God’s initial pronouncement and promise: We bear, and we must bear God’s likeness, something that inspires closeness to God, kinship to God, and we are therefore, made to be more than we might realize… The image of God is stamped not on coins… but on us… the whole of ourselves… We, all of us, (ALL is important) are created from, and grow into, the Imago Dei…

Broad View United, the banners

Therefore, we are also called to ceaselessly, effortfully, courageously, look for, seek, discover, find, recognize, acknowledge, affirm and spread the images (not just one image, but many) of God in the world. It is an act of stewardship; it is an act of extending, to all, the abundant life God wishes for ALL. Perhaps, we might not always be able to discern the image of Empire vs the image of God, because, in real life, many things are a mix of both — in different ratios. But we can try, in faith, to tug on the strands of idealism, to pull the sincerity and the integrity of God’s image from the complex matrix… We can do the hard work to find the language, the poem, and the lyrics of our faith, our stewardship. 

 

Let’s take a moment, a few minutes of quiet centering, to think about what are the image or images of God, that we are grateful for… What if we were called, employed in God’s Mint, and we were going to make a new coin that God’s realm would use for its future currency, what image would you choose to be on the face of the coin? Would you be willing, open, even excited to invite one another to pull our resources together to create larger possibilities for the images of God in the world to grow, take root, and flourish? First things first: before the garden work, we would need to open our hands, and look for, discover, acknowledge, affirm the seeds… Choose what we will plant on ‘God’s soil… You and I…’ (the title of the next song), as the images of God in the world. The diversity. The sincerity. We need to choose what we are going to plan, to imagine, to design and build such a garden… 

 

The first Sunday in September when Min-Goo and I joined you for our first worship at Broad View was such a fun and engaging experience for both of us. There was, of course, energetic music, hymn-singing in a circle, great coffee, and so on, but what made the one hour fly past as if it were 10 minutes, were the stories that we shared with one another on the three questions… So, let’s make that wonderful time again. 

 

Please find a group of two or three people, next to you, and share the images of God that you are grateful for today… Not just family and friends, even though they are so important, our treasure and blessings… But, in this moment, let’s approach this a bit more theologically or even poetically. Let’s try! What are the images of God, the image of God you are grateful for today, or in the world. What if we were called, employed in God’s Mint, and we were going to make a new coin that God’s realm would use for its future currency, what image would you choose to be on the face of the coin? 

... 

 

Look for the images of God in the world. 

Invest in the images of God to grow, 

take root, and flourish… 

 

Last but not least, remember… the image of God is not for the coin… right? The image of God is not stamped on the coin… God’s image is stamped on us. ALL. Not just as individuals, but the whole of God’s image is on the whole of interconnectedness of everyone’s history, story, identity, their political and spiritual power. ALL includes rocks, soil, earth, air, sea, climate, worms, and bees. Serpents and doves. Not just humans. But “The glory of God is all creatures fully alive”. 

Newsletter: Adjusting oneself to the holy (September 2022)

Newsletter Message (September, 2022)

... I am excited to write my second message to share with you in this Newsletter. I truly consider it a “letter.” When we write a letter, especially when we write it in handwriting (pen and paper, ink and card) and send it to our beloved family or friends in an envelope, we press love and care into each word and close it with our affection as the glue. I try to embrace the same practice — at least the love part —, as I write a letter for you now. 

 

Today, I learned that when I encounter the holy — something admirable, wholesome, deep, quiet and yet at the same time intensive (Each individual can find and define the holy in their own unique terms and experience) — I am willing to make adjustments. 

“Adjusting oneself to the holy” — the holy as a challenging, encouraging, true and spiritually solid aspect of life and the universe — would mean to me that I can practice what I say and do in a better way, in a way that truly honours and respects relationships. Instead of taking the road of convenience, I become willing to take the road of truth-sharing and going slow, in order to find and create a space of authenticity. 

 

This month, we have, during worship, been sharing the story of the Samaritan Woman at the Well. In the story, Jesus says to the woman, “God is Spirit, and only by the power of God’s Spirit can people worship authentically.” (John 4:24) Every time I read and reflect on this text, and encounter the word, “authentically”, I ponder… How can I allow this word to come to life and inspire me? How can I honour the Creator and the relationships that continue to shape my life, more authentically? In the way that authentic engagement can create the sense and the space of the holy in-between? What adjustment will I make to uphold and respect the holy today? 

 

With these questions I close my letter to BVU, and add the benediction as glue. 

 

“Authenticity, then, is found only in a stretch, 

between what we know 

and what we have yet to discover.” 

 

Yours, 

Sermon: Touching Our Strength (August 18th, 2022)

Sermon: Touching Our Strength 

So, as many of you already know, I came here from Manitoba, the vast and wide prairie land, which, in Cree, means “Where the Creator sits”. My family — Min-Goo, myself and our two children — , arrived in Victoria on August 31st, after a long and beautiful road trip west. The city we lived in, Winnipeg, is recognized as the place where the “two rivers meet”: the Assiniboine River and the Red River. The Assiniboine flows east from Saskatchewan, and the Red river flows north from Minnesota; they meet at The Forks and flow together into Lake Winnipeg. As the rivers flow through the land, they change it; they reshape their banks, they bring nourishment and sorrow. The rich history of the Metis Nation was born along these waters; these rivers have nurtured and changed the lives of so many in myriad ways. 

When we move and migrate, we arrive with stories – stories we’ve heard, but also the stories we’ve lived. We embody them; they are stories we continue to write and rewrite, and they rewrite us as well. I am really curious and excited to imagine what story I will become, what new chapters will be written, together with you. On this new land, and in this new context - it is an exciting time for me and my family. I hope it is the same for you!

Before my family moved to Winnipeg in 2014, we found a home in Ladysmith, about a hundred kilometres up-island. Min-Goo was called to Ladysmith United Church in 2010, and shortly after, I was appointed to serve Chemainus United Church as their supply minister; that allowed my two-year student internship to happen. Before then, our first home in Canada was in Burnaby, in 2007, when Peace, our older son was 8 months old. We moved shortly after, and lived in the Vancouver School of Theology’s residence at UBC for 4 years. So, it is really 4 years in Vancouver, 4 years on Vancouver Island, 8 years in Winnipeg, and now we are back to BC, to the island, to this beautiful city. Our migration story as a family, and as myself, makes a circle of returning this time. How I find a home in each place, how I develop a sense of belonging to the land, to the prairies and the island, is also a story… Which I would love to share as I engage with you more personally over time. I often tell my friends that nature is God-given, and therefore the land of the prairies and the island each have their own profound transformative majesty.  

I share a bit of my migration story today with you, because, first of all, I would like to be an open book to you. I would like to introduce myself to you as a story, and meet you as a story too. That’s my hope, and it would be my utmost joy to hear your story. Please tell me how your sense of belonging to the land and your sense of belonging to the community have evolved — if you have some extra time to tell me. Those two questions are my first inquiries to make; learning your stories are my personal goal this year. I would like to hear the stories of this land — the traditional territory of the Coast Salish people, specifically, the Lekwungen-speaking people — and the stories of people living on the land, especially, as you and I, together as BVU, as people of faith, will continue to write a new story, merging and emerging like two rivers meeting. 

It’s been 18 days since my return to Vancouver Island, to Victoria, and now I worship with you, BVU. In the past two weeks, I have been asking myself: What I am called to? It’s an exciting question, a heart-trembling one, and at the same time a sacred one: What am I called to here? To this land, to this city, to this community. What am I going to be? How shall I be inspired, nurtured, led (love + equity driven), challenged, transformed by you and by the land? 

In August, our staff team, Min-Goo, Pat McKay, Margaret, Mark, all the Mighty M people and I, met on zoom and brainstormed our new theme for 2022-23, and everyone welcomed, ”Telling Our Story, Sharing our Faith.” 

Last Monday, the BVU congregation voted on the budget for the renovation and a decision to move forward. 

On the following day, I joined the Just Like Family board meeting and received a warm welcome. A member commented humorously that I came to BVU in the middle of a “tornado” this past week. I laughed because it was so true: as I started to be involved in a real way, I encountered many astronomical numbers (7 digits!) and equally large-scale decisions relevant to the Cedar Hill site renovation and social enterprises. Then, I started to ponder… What about … What if what we are building is not just numbers, but stories? As we ponder numbers, we also carry stories. Amalgamation, renovation, possible funding — these are not just numbers; they are the narratives with which we write the story of Broadview, even now. Questions like, “Why here, why now?” inspire stories. They do not just explain what has happened and will happen; stories are interesting and spark the imagination. I am interested in learning and hearing more about “Why we do what we do”, and believe that only when we know and can answer why we do what we do, and why we are proud of what we do, we can love ourselves. And the confidence of loving ourselves opens up more room, (like a renovation of the heart) for loving others. 

What I admire about Broad View is that you’ve already written many pages and many chapters in the story that you have been creating together: amalgamation, renovation, social enterprises, worship, outreach, many areas of ministry. This hard work and joy of co-writing are composed of many facts that are translatable to numbers in financial statements. I am excited in working with you in bringing these facts and this work together as a storyline, too. The hard work and joy of co-writing, co-creating… How does it work for you? I have been personally inspired by the work of Jennifer Aaker, at Stanford Business Graduate School. She said, “Everyone needs a signature story. It’s a story that, after you tell people, those who listen to it somehow look at you differently. And the most powerful signature stories are those that take the audience where you want to go. One of the most powerful stories is the vision story. The vision story is about where YOU want to go. For many of us there’s a gap between how we see ourselves and where we are going, versus how others see you and where you are going. Story is the most effective way to close the gap. The story brings other people along on your journey.” 

Last July, while my family visited Korea, we were able to travel to Japan for three days as well. Our older son Peace is fascinated by Japanese animation, and travelling to Japan has been his number one dream in recent years. We visited Osaka, and the tour guide said, “There are many reasons why many people dream of visiting Japan in their lifetime, and one of the attracting factors is that visitors know/learn the story of each place from books, movies, etc. Because of the story they learn, they become more interested, and as a result, the stories attract more travellers. Every corner of this tour is built on a story.” 

Stories have power. Our brains are hard-wired to hear and interpret stories. Stories stick to our brain like Velcro. Stories open up people’s heart and interest, and makes them want to engage more. That’s how our brains work. If anyone comes to our door and asks about Broad View’s signature story, what would you say? What adversity have you overcome together, what dreams have been met like two rivers meeting and flowing richly to nourish us? What are you proud of, and what do you love most about our community? How do you love our purpose together? Can we move from asking “What do we want to achieve?” To “Why here, why now?” in order to co-write, co-build the story: “What is the story that we are, together, writing, creating, building, or even innovating and renovating — here and now?

Writing is both hard work and a great joy. It is so similar to building a home. To do the hard work and joy of co-writing… Here are the foundations, here are the walls, here we are, together, building a new story. 

I believe that “Telling our story, sharing our faith” can be hard, because we are telling about ourselves. Telling “our” story really well is a deep work, because for any good story, adversity plays a key role, and in order to share it, the storytellers, the storybuilders, you and me, Broad View, will need to be willing, need to be open, to be vulnerable. Reflective. Learning.

 

Touching our Strength, by Carter Heyward, is one of my favourite books. I am honoured to use her book’s title to explain the process of telling our story. I believe that the hardest part, and at the same time the most rewarding part, in telling our story is “touching” our strength, because the place of strength is deep. Strength and vulnerability share the same origin, connected in love and struggle all at once, and touching both strength and vulnerability is really the same as daring to love ourselves. Touching is skin to skin, deep to deep, an intimate action. It is the courage to truly love ourselves, and as a reward, loving ourselves becomes the foundation we need in order to love others as ourselves. Hayward says in Touching Our Strength, “In fact, loving is hard because learning to share our passion, the exuberant yearnings of our erotic/sacred power, requires of us, ‘revolutionary patience’ with one another…It takes a great deal of time and love for us to learn how to let go of our senses of separateness, isolation, and self-control, and risk not only reaching out to touch others but also allowing ourselves to be touched deeply by them.” Hayward continues…

“We are not the same, not in the beginning, not in the end. We are not one, not a merger, not a unity of look-alike-think-alike-act-alike-be-alike. 

In the beginning is the relation, not sameness.

In the beginning is tension and turbulence, not easy peace. 

In the beginning, our erotic power moves us to touch, not take over; transform, not subsume. 

We are empowered by a longing to not to blur the contours of our differences, but rather to reach through the particularities of who we are toward our common strength, our shared vulnerability, and our relational pleasure…”

In today’s Gospel, the Samaritan woman is a story-builder. In the story, she develops the storyline through questions, such as:

“You are a Jew, and I am a Samaritan—so how can you ask me for a drink?”

“Sir, you don't have a bucket, and the well is deep. Where would you get this life-giving water?”

In the beginning, the Samaritan woman starts her questions based on her habitual binary thinking of either/or. Black and white. 

For example, 

There’s Jacob’s Well and we get water from it — OR we remain thirsty. 

Worshipping God on this mountain as Samaritans do — OR in Jerusalem as Jews do.

And yet, she evolves each time with Jesus’ answers, and Jesus and the Samaritan woman, together, build a revelatory story line. 

Jesus proclaims who he is by answering the Samaritan woman’s questions. Like two rivers meeting, Jesus teaches and affirms that the way of God is not either/or. The way of God is like the sea or a big lake that transcends and embraces opposites (two rivers flowing from different directions). The water Christ gives is Living Water, which does not come either from Jacob’s well, or someone else’s well. The location it comes from is not the issue, because it is about Life. Living Water is about quenching and nourishing the spiritual side of thirst. Christ also shows the Samaritan woman that even if we may be more interested in determining who is more right and what is more appropriate, ultimately God is interested in authenticity. Honouring God and one another, in spirit and truth. 

Understanding what that means is the foundation to building our own transformative storyline in our individual lives and here at Broad View. At the end of today’s story, the Samaritan woman reaches an understanding of who Christ/Messiah is. She invites her community to come and see and ponder with her: “Can they be the Messiah?” In her story, the ending is an open-ended question, and invites us to ponder the question ourselves. 

Circling back to the question, “Why here, why now?”, let us ask ourselves again: What is the story that we are, together, writing, creating, building, or even innovating and renovating, here and now, with me, with you, even at this moment? If anyone comes to our door and asks what Broad View’s signature story is — What is the storyline of the beginning and the adversity, the celebration and hope, the memory and faith — , what are the open-ended questions that keep pushing the story forward, what would you answer?

Come and tell us. 

Let us build our story of revolutionary patience. 

Let us build the story of two rivers meeting. 

Let us build the story of touching our strength.

We need your story to build OUR story. 

Sermon: "A Text Forward" (Sept 25th, 2022)

Sermon: A Text Forward

So, our Question of the Day this week is “Have you had a text message that changed your day?” I hope you think about this question, during coffee time or later this week.

We do text messages these days… Years ago, they were known as SMS, Short Message Service. For example, here’s a text message my 16-year-old son sent me last Tuesday: “I need my calculator by tomorrow. I can’t take Chem without it” was the longest one. Then, “Yeah, yeah” “Oh yeah I did” “Yes” “idk”. Nothing about those messages really changed my day.

Daily, we exchange a lot of “texts” (not just text messages). Newspapers, novels, poems, even the BVU Newsletter. :) An online dictionary provides the definition: Text is the original words and form of a written or printed work. Text is the original words of an author or speaker, as opposed to a translation, paraphrase, commentary, or the like. 

 

I became interested, and was pondering what “text” means and what we do with it, when my new friend who is a singer — and a preacher in her soul — told me her story. She focused on the remarkable moment of her ordination, in 1969, in the heart of the civil rights era, Black womanist movement, a time of great social change. She was “ordained” in the Baptist church in the US by her grandfather…

“I was ordained / because I was a woman / and Black / woman of colour / and / lesbian.” She told me. My friend emphasized each identity with her eyes, and the pause and rhythm of her speech. She continued:

 

“For me, what is more important than, or equally important, as melody, is a text forward.” The lyrics. Originality, sung and spoken in words. Not only melody, but the Text, the Message, the preaching of music, can change our day, even our lives. 

In today’s reading, the Samaritan woman at the well made that connection. Her “text forward” changed how the first disciples understood who the Good News was for: God’s “Love colours outside the lines.” After hearing Jesus say to her that God is spirit, and only by the power of God’s Spirit can people worship authentically, the woman confesses, “I know that the Messiah will come, and when he comes, he will tell us everything.” And Jesus affirms it, saying “I am he, I who am talking with you.” Then, the woman left her water jar — she completely forgot the reason why she came to the well, to draw water, — and instead, went back to the town and shouted out God’s message - she put her text forward! “I am not ‘Just a Girl’ (which is the title of the song our musicians played last Sunday). I am not ’Just a Samaritan.’ And here’s my text in a bold font: Come and see, the Messiah is here!” Like an SMS message. The woman texts her proclamation forward. Her text, her message, is short. Clear. Efficient. Strong. “Come and See the Messiah.”

 

If you got her text message today, “Come and See” on your cell phone, and your screen showed the Sender to be Anonymous, or the Sender: Undefined. Or the Sender: Samaritan. Or the Sender: Samaritan woman.” Would it change your day? How? What would happen? What would be your response? It could be a scam. You might delete it right away. Or you might just ignore it, depending on who the sender is. And how busy you are that day. In today’s reading, it is most likely that the woman knew the townsfolk, and the townspeople knew her, so there’s relationship, connection, she’s not totally unknown; she’s not anonymous to her own Samaritan folk. But what kind of reputation does this woman have? What kind of community has she been able to build in spite of the context of her life — when she has had 5 husbands and the person with whom she lived when she met Jesus was not really her husband. Even with this knowledge, the townsfolk listen and follow the woman and they see. 

 

Now, here’s my story about the “text” that changed my day. Have I had a “text sent forward” to me that changed my life? Yes. This text changed the course of my life. During my first Sunday worship with you, on Sept 11th, I shared a little bit about that time… You might remember I told you that I had a life-changing conversation with my husband, Min-Goo, at my parents’ apartment’s playground, in Korea, in the summer of 2006. That evening, when Min-Goo said, “Why don’t you become a minister?”, the question, the idea, was one that I had never considered as a possible, real option in my life, especially since I had never seen any female ordained ministers in Korea. 

 

Min-Goo was ordained during our engagement, a few months before our marriage. He soon became the assistant minister in his church. All my relatives who knew about the life of Korean churches and their patriarchy warned me about my future role at Min-Goo’s church as a Samonim. Samonim is an honorary title for the wife of an ordained man in the Korean protestant church. A good Samonim will sacrifice herself, her identity and ambition, to sustain the things that benefit the church and her husband. I said yes, I was willing to make that commitment, not having experienced the negative influence the church patriarchy would have on me. I trusted that I could do whatever it would take to give what was needed of me. “I am smart. I am wise. and Min Goo promised that we would leave Korea after the two years are over. I’ll please the church people.”

 

However, I have to admit that I was over-confident. Soon, I started to look closely at the other minister’s wives I met. They looked terrible. They seemed to have forgotten how to smile brightly, happily, from the inside. These women looked hollowed-out. I wondered why; it took much less than two years to find out. After our marriage, we started our lives together in a make-shift house, conveniently built/added on the rooftop of the four-story church building, Min Goo’s workplace, which stood right next to a slightly uphill eight-lane highway. (Traffic was loud!) While my husband became like a church prince, I became like a “smiling angel.” I had to say yes to all the compliments that the church women and men made to praise Min-Goo. I felt that I must always agree with them despite my feelings. I sensed something was wrong when a church member, who really cared for me and Min-Goo, complimented me, “Our young Samonim is an angel.” A smiling, silent, creature. 

 

After two years, I began to experience huge anxiety issues. I couldn’t be alone in a room without having an anxiety attack. I remember one day I desperately needed to hold the Rosary beads my mom blessed me with on my wedding day, to overcome panic. Over those first two years of being a ‘smiling angel’, or ‘silent angel’, my personality changed dramatically - from an intelligent, competent, independent woman to an anxious, passive and dependent hollowed-out shell.  

 

I knew that, for my own mental health, I needed to stop performing the role of the smiling angel, the ‘shadow’ of the ordained husband. That’s when Min-Goo suggested, “Why don’t you become a minister?” It was a time of incubation for me to reinvent my whole world. A few months later after the summer playground bench talk, I accidently found a book “Struggle to be the Sun Again: Introducing Asian Women’s Theology”, written by Chung Hyun Kyung, a Korean feminist, eco-spirituality Christian theologian, a pioneer, a Goddess theologian, a tenured professor at Union Theological Seminary. I picked it up, read it, and found a poem in it, “The Hidden Sun”, which Japanese feminist poet Hiratsuka Raicho wrote, as her original text, in the 1900’s. The text Hiratsuka sent and forwarded reached out, from Japan to me, from 1911 to 2006, almost a hundred years later. 

 

“Originally, woman was the Sun.

She was an authentic person.

But now woman is the moon.

She lives by depending on another

and she shines by reflecting another’s light.

Her face has a sickly pallor.    

We must now regain our hidden sun. 

“Reveal our hidden sun!

Rediscover our natural gifts!”

This is the ceaseless cry

which forces itself into our hearts;

it is our irrepressible

and unquenchable desire.

It is our final,

complete,

and only instinct

through which

our various

separate instincts

are united.”

 

Reading this poem, I immediately identified myself with this poet, who claims that “Originally, woman was the Sun. She was an authentic person. But now woman is the moon. She lives by depending on another and she shines by reflecting another’s light. Her face has a sickly pallor.” It’s a perfect description of the life of a Samonim. I had become the moon. After I received this text, I declared to myself, to God, that I will struggle to be the Sun again, the Sun as the wholeness about me, by me, of me, within me. And I carried the text, the poem, “Hidden Sun” as my prayer, and said it when I flew to Canada in 2007 to walk a different path, shining my own light, in nobody’s shadow. 

Now, my BVU friends, I would be extremely keen to learn what has been the “text forwarded” to you and the “text” you forward to the future that has changed your life and will change other lives as well. This year, we will continue to worship with the theme of Telling Our Story, Sharing Our Faith. We will continue to explore why we tell a story — as a way to find our strength within: Touching Our Strength. Let us gather to worship, sing, reflect, pray and share what it means to each of us when Audre Lorde (the incredible pioneer, self-declared as a “Black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet”, who shared the same era and the voice of our musician LR) says

that our story is “The transformation of silence in language and action.” 

And here’s the ending quote for us, as my benediction, commissioning and prayer for you (which is also shared in the Friday Email): 

 

“As a woman it is important for me that I am in God, and God is in me. No longer do I see God as a rescuer. I see her more as power and strength within me.” (Lee Sun Ai, Korean theologian)

 

Come and See. Text forward your message to God, to yourself, to your neighbour. 

The memories of Seine River Trail and Al Matheson... (Shared on June 18th, 2022)

Reflection: And Music Echoes Eternal Tones

 

(The following message was shared on Saturday, for the celebration of life of Al Matheson at Immanuel United Church.)

In his poem “On the Death of the Beloved” (“To Bless the Space Between Us”, p. 170), John O’Donohue says: 

 

”Let us not look for you only in memory, 

Where we would grow lonely without you.

You would want us to find you in presence, 

Beside us when beauty brightens, 

When kindness glows 

And music echoes eternal tones.”

 

In our lives, there are moments when we are moved by the grace of Nature, in which the presence of God, on earth, is revealed to us in the subtlety and mystery of being alive.

 

Personally, I receive such a moment while taking an evening walk on the Seine River trail. Especially when there is a beautiful sunset that dyes the sky with scarlet red or the blend of pink and blue; or in the early morning when tiny songbirds are widely awake and busy singing their chorus, only relying on their instinct and improvising an accidental heavenly harmony. In those moments, I learn why Mary Oliver said “All eternity is in the moment.” 

 

“The moment” is the magic gate to heaven on earth. The music that fills the presence and space between us, like today; “When beauty brightens,” “When kindness glows,” “When music echoes eternal tones.” 

 

Karen told me that when she brought forward an idea, cautiously and with loving care, about how the family might celebrate Al’s life — Al, without hesitating, was able to say what he would embrace: Music, especially a Jazz service.  It could be a celebration for the family and friends who might travel from near and far to gather to support one another. 

 

When beauty brightens. 

When kindness glows. 

When music echoes eternal tones. 

 

Such a moment is the magic gate to the heaven on earth. All eternity is in the moment. 

 

When I walk on the trail, I see that some birds communicate just like humans. Or to be fair, I might need to say as well that we humans sometimes know how to communicate like birds. One day on my usual evening walk, I saw birds that were the size of my fifth finger sing like neon signs. Two birds or more took turns to shoot the “sound signs” to the other like, bbeeeep. Then the other responded and sent the same bbeeep. Bbeeep. Bbeeep. Bbeeep. Bbeeep. They kept shooting their messages to each other, against the west-facing background of the glow of the setting sun.

 

That sight made me wonder… revealing a question for me in the moment: 

 

How do we, on earth, communicate with our Creator and our beloved ones in eternity? 

 

How do you find your magic gate to the heaven on earth? 

 

“All eternity is in the moment.” (Mary Oliver)

 

Let us honour this moment as the gate to the heaven, blessing the space between us with our prayers, hymns and loving support. Let us remember Al, from our hearts, and give thanks to the Creator for the life and love which Al, great-grandfather, grandfather, pop, uncle, brother, beloved husband, friend shared with us. His gifts of blessings glowed with kindness, in a beautiful embrace of each sacred moment with the family; he loved to laugh with children and all; his humbleness…

 

When I asked the family which of his gifts they would like to honour and to choose one word to describe it, these words were immediately spoken as each face lit up like songbirds singing a melody of joy: Al was classic (a gentleman), hopeful, respectful, funny, blessed, thoughtful. 

 

The magic moments with Al were: 

 

When Al made you feel that you are the world to him. 

 

When Al attentively listened to you… and let you know he really cared about you.

 

When Al, your great-grandpa, played uno with you, enjoyed desserts with you, laughed with you so hard he was almost squeaking… 

 

Then, Karen and Suzanne dearly remembered the moment when Al blessed the space among them by saying, “I Love You,” with action, from heart, at their last moment of farewell… 

 

Circling back to another moment of eternity from my evening walk on the Seine River trail:  At that moment, someone was explaining to me their thoughts on the Word of God, and at the same time, in the distance, I saw a bird swoop down flitting from one tree branch to another. The movement of the bird was so significant, it blessed me with an unforgettable, deep sense of comfort. In that instant when my eyes followed the bird’s movement, I realized that sometimes God’s word is spoken through action, without needing words from lips. But God’s Word can be powerfully demonstrated through what we see, what we hear from the heart. Not just by seeing with eyes and hearing with ears. The blessings and the sign of God’s eternal presence are demonstrated in action, in movement, from heart, from listening. 

 

May the Creator’s eternal song, the music, the gate to the heaven, echo in our lives, and bless the space between us. May Al join the joy of God’s eternal presence, and now be embraced by the everlasting arms of the Creator, the peace on earth, as it is in heaven. 

Reflection: 浩然之氣 as the church, (August 21st, 2022)

Reflection:  浩然之氣 (Ho Yeon Ji Chi) as the church

Welcome, Transcona Memorial, Birds Hill, John Black, Grey Street, Gordon King, and North Kildonan, 

Immanuel welcomes you all, wholeheartedly! 

The gathering today for worship of our beloved seven United churches, echoes Jesus’ community’s first communion in today’s Gospel reading. It was an electric moment for all who sat with Jesus on that day, experiencing the unexpected, unbelievable overflowing abundance of God’s providence - inspired by a child’s initiative, the small basket of 5 loaves and 2 fish, at an open “park”, a grassy field, where there was no market or shops — no commerce at all. It was the wilderness. Those who gathered, under the heavens and on the earth, had nothing in common except for their desire to be close to Jesus. The Gospel of John tells us also that the gathering place was on the eastern side of the sea of Galilee, which was Gentile territory. The crowd came from varied places, different hometowns, cities, nations, different synagogues and temples. We model our gathering today on the event of this first, open-field communion on the eastern side of Galilee. 

So… Imagine… Where we gather, where we are today, as if it is…  

… A place you’ve never been to… The grassy land is wide and open; the scenery might be familiar but the people are new and diverse… You might hear different languages or accents and dialects here and there. It’s the Gentiles’ territory; you’ve crossed over an unspoken divide, and yet somehow, mysteriously, everything strange is peaceful and positive until you become… hungry. Your stomach starts to growl… You’re far from home, far from your bread, your larder – what will you do?

There is Jesus, Word-made-flesh… You do not know yet who he really is; but you have a strong impression that this person is very special and prophetic. 

There is Jesus, Bread of Life – very special and prophetic, but you do not expect him to do something extraordinary with a mere offering of bread and fish from a child — not with five thousand people before him, hungry just like you. 

Just like in our lives, when we cannot dare to expect the extraordinary, when we have nothing to give, not enough to nourish ourselves, or others. 

Like the disciples in the second story in today’s reading, we feel frightened — Jesus is walking on water! Can this be possible? Is it even allowed? The disciples in today’s reading not only saw Jesus walking on the sea, Jesus was coming to the boat where they were sitting, terrified. Oh, that kind of precarious approach, even if it is Jesus, is not welcome. The day has been exhilarating, but they’ve used up all their energy. It was an exhausting trip, to be honest, even though, thank God, it ended with the happy, massive communion — seeing a miracle, being part of the miracle. But their bodies and brains need rest. The sea becomes rough; a strong wind is blowing. They see Jesus walking on the sea. What if Jesus, even unintentionally, capsizes the boat, drowning all! And it’s evening! It’s getting dark! They are going HOME after spending an extraordinary day in Gentile territory. Not the best timing to see another miracle, Jesus. No thank you. 

Jesus says to his friends… “It is I; do not be afraid.” V. 21, “Then, they [disciples] wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going.” [Home]. 

No grand miracle. Just home. This time. 

Today’s Gospel story leads me to remember another foundational story in the Bible in which we, human beings, are terrified, vulnerable, and naked in spirit, exposed to deep shame or anger, the moment in which honesty, openness, forgiveness and acceptance call us. … In which God calls God’s beloveds. God’s children. Eve and Adam at the garden of Eden. In that open, grassy Eden, Eve and Adam suddenly found themselves naked in body, and also in spirit. For the first time between these two, Eve and Adam see each other in vulnerability and shyness. They are naked! ”How can this happen between us?”

Both quickly reach out their hands to a tree near them, not to pick delicious fruit and enjoy it as they used to, but to find something to hide their shame, anger, disconnection, difference. In that moment God calls them. God “walks on” their garden and calls Eve and Adam, gently, in the wind, in God’s original sweet voice. Calming, peaceful, caring, comforting. God covers them with love, not judgement. God’s intention is to protect them; God’s blessings are for the growth of God’s beloved children and creatures, for their continuous flourishing even after the first covenant between them is broken, maybe, with the hope of mending what has been broken for a reparative, creative future. 

Confucianism, a major Asian religious tradition like Buddhism, teaches the concept of “호연지기 浩然之氣” (The Korean way to pronounce this phrase is Ho Yeon Ji Gi. Gi is pronounced in the West and in Chinese as “Chi”, the word that means spirit/energy. In Chi, Spirit and Energy are inseparable, always one action, flow and movement together, surrounding, composing, changing the world’s creation and recreation. 浩然之氣 (Ho Yeon Ji Chi) is translated as “vast-flowing energy,” referring to the spiritual and physical state that nourishes, develops, and “revives one’s exhausted energy.” It’s the “vast spirit” and “great morale” we can experience when we climb a high mountain and reach its top, alone (or with a small group of friends), only you between the great heaven and the earth. it’s like the water that flows vigorously as if there’s nothing to prevent it (that means 浩然, literally meaning ‘flowing as such’). When we are terrified, like the disciples in the boat in a rough sea, our body naturally crouches, or becomes alert with muscles prepared to fight or flee. Nourishing/experiencing 浩然之氣 (Ho Yeon Ji Chi) is opposite to that ‘fight or flight’ response, analogous to extending your arms and legs in a giant “X”: hands touching the sky, feet standing on the ground, fully connected. The energy opens up with your open body. It becomes vast, it becomes flowing, it becomes great, reviving our exhausted energy. Just like Jesus extends his arms up and breaks the bread in that open, grassy wilderness, where there’s nothing but the community of disciples, neighbours, ourselves, between the vast flowing heaven and earth. We are nourished. We are enlivened. We are regenerated, because Jesus is our 浩然之氣 vast flowing energy (Ho Yeon Ji Chi), Living Bread. Living Water. 

Now we gather, in joy and giving thanks, at the building of Immanuel United Church, but imagine with me as if God is showing us the 3D architectural rendering. God gently holds up the building and takes it away from/above us, and now, between the great heaven and earth we are ourselves, in our neighbourhood, like Eves and Adams, like the first disciples of Jesus at the wilderness: finding ourselves open, vulnerable, encouraged, empowered, confident and beloved. Then God invites us to hold each one’s arms, by extending our own. Our own feet touch our friends’, and we don’t mind. (No need to say Canadian sorry.) Actually, we will welcome that touch, that connection. We are not alone. We have companions to walk a long journey together. The connection of the people of 浩然之氣 (Ho Yeon Ji Chi) is the church. Not the names of the churches. Not the buildings of the churches. This communion echoes the miracle of the Loaves and Fishes. In our intermingled congregations, we know some folks, but we do not know all. We might hear different languages, accents or dialects, and theologies, here and there. We’ve crossed over unspoken divides, boundaries, and even rules, but that’s fine! Everything is peaceful, positively strange, with time to become comfortable and enjoy this extended friendship in God, Christ-centered fellowship, … and after some exhilarating exhaustion, you start to feel hungry. Your stomach growls! The communion is the church. The 浩然之氣 vast flowing energy (Ho Yeon Ji Chi), only Adams and Eves can be making, with courage, truth, joy and welcome, is the church. As the big Xes, from the tips of our toes to the tops of our heads — connected to each other’s X — together creating the Cosmic Christ, the church can be extended as big as the cosmos.

So, beloved mingled friends, mingled churches, extend your 浩然之氣 (Ho Yeon Ji Chi) and sing a song of faith as if we all are now sharing a mountain-top experience on Golspie Street! There are no roadblocks between Heaven and Earth; the table of Jesus, the table of welcome, truly revives our exhausted energy. Even if the covenants between humans may be broken and we end up hurting, wounded, changing, the steadfast love of God, God’s holy covenant with each one of us, the Creator’s duet with us, with everyone of us, with everyone of you, never, never changes. We live in God’s world. Let us praise God who is present amongst us as Living Bread, Living Water and calls us in the wind, and protects us and blesses each one of God’s Eves and Adams.