Sermon: What Makes a Remarkable Space?
On the Eve of the actual day of Epiphany, January 6th, I gathered with some people at a sweat lodge in Duncan. As I listened to the introduction and stories of the Elder, the weather began to change, making a mockery of my light clothing. The rain started to fall “둑 둑” (dook, dook), and the wind grew colder, making us all shiver, longing to enter the sweat lodge. Our wish was soon granted; walking barefoot on the hard, damp ground, we crawled into the lodge counterclockwise, forming a circle as we sat down. I gratefully noticed the intimate space of the sweat lodge's dome warming up from the body heat of the people. Outside, the lodge keeper, Marcus, brought in the first red-hot, grandfather rock. My cheeks flushed with heat. “Come, come, o Grandfather,” the person next to me breathed. Another grandfather rock followed. O grandfather!
The rocks that had been part of the river, grazed by salmon, entered one by one, followed by medicine, and then a water vessel, after which the door closed, leaving us in darkness.
In a moment, like a starless, black night sky, when the dry medicine was crushed into powder and sprinkled on the stones, in the middle of the complete blackness, only the small lights of the burning medicine - cedar, sage, and tobacco - sparked like fireworks, twinkling like mini light bulbs on a Christmas tree, shining like silent thunder.
I thought to myself: could the star of Epiphany, which guided the Magi and stopped over the place where Jesus was born, have been like this medicine fire?
Then, the twelve of us sitting around took turns naming our intentions, naming our ancestors, expressing our sorrows, rage, and gratitude. In the small, hot space of the sweat lodge, what were we giving birth to during the next 3 hours of labour?
The water in the vessel began to be poured on the hot rock manger. The serious labour of healing had started. Could God’s birth pangs for a new creation have been like this dark, steam-filled, sweat lodge birth place?
In the middle of it, the weather, which had been slowly changing, intensified, and it began to pour down heavily. “좌~좌~” (Jooa, Jooa) However, inside this lodge, similar to Jesus' stable, a completely different temporary alternative world was unfolding, apart from the stormy world outside.
It was my second time experiencing a sweat lodge. My first one was in Manitoba, before Easter, on a hill adrip with melting snow. I cherish this second experience as well, embraced on the Eve of Epiphany in this new year. Although it might be a stretch to directly compare Jesus' birthplace with a sweat lodge, I often find myself pondering this question as Epiphany Sunday approaches: What made that unnoticed, marginalized place where the small life named Jesus began, become a remarkable space?
What I like about the Children’s Pageant during Advent is that every main character in the Nativity story, whose stories are told in different books of the Gospels, all come together. In the Gospels, the story of the Magi is only found in the Gospel of Matthew, and the shepherds are highlighted in the Gospel of Luke. Whether these different groups actually met on Jesus' birthday, or knew of each other, is another question. As far as each written book is concerned, they never met, but in the children’s pageant, we get to see all of them gather and give their own unique tribute and contributions. To note: All of the characters gather, Mary, Jesus, Joseph, often imagined with birth doulas, animals, shepherds, and Magi, … except for Herod. Herod is not welcome.
Priya Parker, who wrote the book The Art of Gathering, suggests the secret of the “art of gathering” that God could have used in this nativity-Epiphany story. Quoting Parker, “It was exclusion that allowed that diversity to be activated.”
The first part of her book centres on the concept or insight that a remarkable space, any remarkable gathering, serves a clear, specific, unique, and “disputable” purpose. I think she means that if we create an event that is said to be for everyone and for everything — in other words, “When there really is no clear, unique, specific purpose”, it is no longer remarkable. For us here, who want to express a progressive, affirming and intercultural vision for whatever we do, there needs to be always a “disputable” purpose. We will engage with the process of “exclusion” in order to create an impactful, deep, remarkable inclusion. The exclusion of any aspect of oppression is necessary, in order to create a remarkable space. Herod is not welcome (Herod, not as Who, but Herod as What. It’s not about who as an individual, but what as the system) Herod is not welcome: It is easy to say in the nativity story, but in reality, it would not always be easy to say, “Herod is not welcome. Oppression is not welcome.” “Colonialism is not welcome.” "Transphobia is not welcome." To many, these are still disputable. It’s hard to be told you must change, you must shed the old assumptions in order to be fully welcome in a new space. But when you do change, when you are willing to drop long-held, harmful, beliefs, the remarkable space opens to you,. just like what I encountered in my second sweat lodge experience in Duncan. The weather was changing, we were seeking the warmth… Grandfather rocks and our ancestors were named. It was a safe place, a welcome space, a warm space, with the clear, specific, unique and intentional and disputable purpose of exclusion: exclusion of oppression.
I like to think about the Nativity-Epiphany story. The key character that anchors the two weeks in between as one is the Epiphany star, which arose when Jesus was born and guided and stopped over the stable for the Magi. It was a humble stable, but how did it happen that, following the starlight and the voices of the angels, these totally unrelated different groups, Magi and shepherds, gathered on Epiphany? What made this unnoticed, marginalized place where the small life named Jesus began, become a remarkable space? Can we learn God’s art of gathering from this Epiphany story? How can Broad View United be a remarkable place, creating new relationships, on this new location and in this new context?
I asked myself all of these questions, and pondered them… and thought, for BVU, I would like to envision an “Overflowing of love.” That’s the phrase I thought of, and I love this aspect of being a community: to create an overflowing of love. But how could we help this to happen? How can we bring in grandfather rocks and pour the living water in our lives here? How will we create the hot-steamed overflowing of love, embodied and empowering? What is disputable about us and our purposes?
Our intention and its impact, our courage to ask questions, willingness to gather in the storm, creating our own warm, safe lodge, learning about medicine and how to heat rocks, away in a manger, away from oppression – those are the things that matter. Moving away from the conventional ways that keep us stagnant. To be and continue to become a remarkable place with the clear, specific, unique and disputable purpose of how to be a church.
So, (the following image comes from the Children’s Time) Untangle the chairs and join us, taking part in creating how we gather and why it matters. Lion dancing, Danza Colombia, Queer Apocalyptic Nativity, Christmas Fiesta, salsa dancing, retelling the traditional stories and transforming them into visual arts or other political justice art forms,
inviting the diversity of the Latino community, Chinese community,
encouraging Spanish speaking, Korean prayers,
red dress, ribbon skirts,
Palestine voices, Naming Herod (as What, not Who), casting out oppression, overflowing love,
a dream space.
All of these things are not just spicing up the old church. It’s reconstructing how we gather and why it matters – to come together without Herod, building a new lodge with our unique, specific, loving and disputable purposes.
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