May 24 ~ Day of Pentecost / Confirmation Sunday

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Acts 2:1-21

Psalm 104:24-34, 35b

1 Corinthians 12:3b-13

John 20:19-23

Sermon by Pastor Joel

Pentecost is a story about the good and bad that faith can do in the world. It represents the challenge for us to know the difference. For this reason, it is an important idea on this, our confirmation Sunday.

For the last two years, today’s confirmands have explored this idea of faith and what it means to see the world through the eyes of the gospel. They have handed out supplies to people living on our streets, and, I hope, learned of the good they can do with their individual and collective actions. During one class, a person, dressed in shabby clothes slept in the pews, and all our youth walked by, not noticing or inquiring about them. I tell this story, without judgement – for judging is not part of our gospel mandate, and we all walk on by, at one time or another, when someone is calling for our attention. This was intended as a lesson in what we can fail to see in the world around us – and, I hope, it was another reminder of the power we have in each of us to see the world for what it is and to act within it.

On Pentecost, as our first lesson says, people of many different languages could, for a moment, understand one another – and they were amazed. What clarity that brought - to know the thoughts and intentions of a stranger from a different background.

Pentecost is a dream, an ideal goal – aspiring to a day when people of faith will be able to speak the same language. In the time in which our first lesson happened, the idea was that everyone would become a follower of Jesus – and indeed, the story of Jesus did spread, so that Christians began to appear in many places in the world. But as time went on, those Christians lost the ability to speak peacefully even with one another, let alone with other faiths. And throughout history, we see the destruction and death that is caused when we compete to be right about our interpretation of God, rather than to learn from one another to expand that understanding.

But the Pentecost story has a flaw in the telling. For it suggests that if we just stand around, God will take care of it for us. The gospel has never been about God’s taking care of us – it is about God’s giving us the tools to take care of ourselves and the world around us.

And what is the first way that God gives us those tools? God tells us we are worthy, and capable, and valuable. Each one of us. I speak directly to the confirmands, but this is a promise we all forget. The human world has a way of telling each of us, over and over again, that we are not worthy. The world will call us names and make assumptions about us. The world will say, “You aren’t capable, you don’t have value.”

Do not believe it. You do not need everyone to like you – in truth, following the gospel means getting under someone’s skin, eventually. People have all kinds of their own reasons for being critical of others that have nothing to do with you. Do not believe them.

Believe God. Believe the people who love you. Believe your friends who support you. Believe in yourself. I hope that each morning, when you look in the mirror, you see someone valuable, someone resilient, someone with the power to change the world for the better. I hope that for all us, young and old.

Ultimately, Pentecost is not simply about understanding spoken words. It is about hearing one another, listening to one another. This is the example that Jesus set: to listen, and to be wise, and not to be quick to fall prey to rumour and spin. To resist our own tendencies to wear judgment like a cloak of righteousness, for, I guarantee, we will quickly find that it is itchy, and heavy, and suffocating. We are to try to hear, underneath a person’s less-than-perfect or even destructive actions, a desire to be understood, to be treated as an equal. There is only one side worth taking – the side that seeks out a loving compromise, that keeps presenting love where hate appears to be winning.

Make sure you do this for yourselves as well – insist on being treated like an equal by those who say they love you. In your relationships, establish a standard of compromise and respect. Know your own worth, as God knows your worth.

Our calling is this: Go out into the world and speak the language of the gospel, as Jesus would have us hear it. Love and value one another as you want to be loved and valued. And love and value yourself so that all this can be possible.

In the end, every human speaks the same language – the desire to be connected and cared for, to be welcomed, to be free. That is our common vocabulary. That is the true sought-after goal of Pentecost – that in speaking the language of the gospel, we may all soar. We may all spread hope. We may all be heard.

Amen

May 17 ~ May We Not Look to the Heavens to Wait for Change, but Choose a Kinder Path Here on Earth.

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Acts 1:6-14

Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35

1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

John 17:1-11

Sermon by Pastor Joel

I recently watched a panel clip talking about the characteristics of Gen Zs. This is the generation that came after Millennials, identified partly because they can’t remember where they were during 9/11, or a time before the iPhone. They are now, depending on how you count them, between 15 and 29 years old – and, if you know and love some of them, you also know they don’t have it easy. Entry level job postings have dropped in half, from last year to this. Climate change is worsening. Most of them, in surveys, don’t expect ever to own a house. They are, according to their own assessment of life satisfaction, the unhappiest 20-something generation we have had in modern Canada, And before our eyes, we are seeing inequality expand in a single generation – between those whose parents have the money for tuition and downpayments and the connections for jobs, and those who don’t.

In that uncertain world, it’s obvious why this group, according to research, appears more risk-averse than past young people. The higher the potential cost of risk, the less any of us are likely to take it. But the Gen Z on this panel had another explanation as well – and listening to it made me feel even more sorrow for my kids. If young people aren’t going out as much anymore, aren’t dating, aren’t dancing – money is a factor.

But it’s also because they can’t trust they won’t be filmed doing their goofy dance moves – and then go viral to mockery on TikTok. They can’t trust that a date that doesn’t work out won’t end up being hashed out online. In some cases, our phones act rightly to police behaviour - the creep at the gym who won’t leave a woman alone, ICE on the streets of Minnesota. Even the most well-meaning people say dumb things and act badly in ways they regret. And the panelist said Gen Zs, who grew up in this world of social media know, know better than anyone, that any private mistake or imperfection can become a public shaming.

How does this fit into our readings this morning? Let’s recap.

In our first lesson, we are told not to look to heaven for Jesus to come; he will arrive again, the same way he came the first time.

The psalmist is in a mood – venting about God’s enemies, and the wicked perishing, the rebels banished to the desert. It sounds, to be honest, like the kind of polarized talk we hear today. Indeed, who are the rebels who deserve to thirst in the desert – the frustrated Gen Zer who paints a dinosaur to protest climate change? The young people pointing out that the traditional definition of happiness – based on the accumulation of material wealth and career titles by a certain age - isn’t working anymore?

In our Second Lesson, then, we have Peter, warning us that those who follow the gospel will be scorned by the world. “Like a roaring lion, our adversary—the devil prowls around you,” we are told, “looking for someone to devour.” We are then to be disciplined, steadfast, and humble.

And finally, there is Jesus, asking for God to look after the world, to care for those who follow the gospel, to protect those people so they may be one.

If I am honest, taken together, the readings challenge me – they have a sense of othering that makes me uncomfortable. Of one group being in, and another being out. Missing is the forgiveness and openness that characterizes the ministry of Jesus. There is nothing mentioned of rescuing or providing care to the lost sheep. If someone were sitting here, knowing nothing of the New Testament and hearing this for the first time, they would think the gospel was judgmental and intolerant, ready to cast a questioner out into the desert. That gospel would tell us when we see someone doing something wrong, or making a mistake, to haul out our phone and get it on video, for persecution later.

But of course, hidden within the words, we may find another meaning. The disciples in the first lesson are being reminded that Jesus was not a king; he was the child of an ordinary family, who worked hard and listened to people, and did what he thought was right. He approached people’s failings with empathy. He said: “Tell me your story.” He asked: “How can I help?” He grew up just like us, and he set the example of responding to the pain and weakness of others with kindness.

Who of us haven’t been the Psalmist, raging against those who wronged or systems that are failing, looking for it all to be solved by God, or government, or anyone else? In doing so, we forget how much we control ourselves. Our own actions decide what our communities are like. Our choices determine the world we leave to our children. When our spouses and friends make mistakes, we decide whether to shame them or support them. The government can put rules on social media for instance, but we can also choose to put down our phones when someone is behaving badly and try to intervene to make things better.

And yes, we need to be alert to the roaring devil lion – indeed we do. For the lion roars mostly within our own minds and hearts, and its voice comes out of our own mouths. The lion roars when we bicker between generations and forget we are all connected, when we join in the snickering about some viral video. The lion makes us feel like victims surrounded by people out to get us. It prevents us from seeing the world as nuanced and complicated. It prevents us from understanding we all want the same thing: to be free and loved and seen as worthy.

And finally, we have Jesus – and what is his appeal to God really saying? Is it even meant for God – or is it meant for us? Behind those words, I hear Jesus saying: given the chance, people are good. Sometimes, they rise above everything else and are amazing. But they are not perfect. They will promise to be faithful, and they will, more times than they like to admit, be faithless. I will plead with them to unite, but they will bicker and compete amongst themselves. Still, they try, and that makes them worthy.

And so, we are reminded – in this difficult world, where our own children fear the shame of public censure, where we are so quick to judge and divide – that Jesus was us, and we are Jesus, with power to choose a kinder path. That anger may make enemies of those who would be allies. That we must be disciplined against the devil lion that lurks within us. And that despite everything we do wrong, Jesus, who saw us for all our failings, asked God to love and protect us – so that we would do the same.

Everyone in this world deserves to dance, free and happy and with wild abandon. May we not look to the heavens and wait for that to happen. May we make the choice within our own hearts and minds to choose the kinder path in all that we do and say.

Amen

May 10 ~ Who Taught You to Face the World with Gentleness and Respect?

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Acts 17:22-31

Psalm 66:8-20

1 Peter 3:13-22

John 14:15-21

Sermon by Pastor Joel

A lot has changed in the world since I was a boy growing up. When a lot of us here were young, being a man meant being tough, decisive, physically strong, and stoic. Those are all good qualities, but pushed too far, and those same men are not given permission to be emotional and vulnerable. Motherly and fatherly traits were equally split by gender roles – mothering was kind and soft, fathering was hard and strict.

Even now, when much has changed, we have trouble fully shaking those stereotypes– even though, as we see so clearly in younger parents today, they denied many of our mother and father roles that would have made life more fulfilling.

Research repeatedly shows that qualities such as empathy, other-centredness, collaboration, and openness are highly valuable leadership qualities. On the TV shows that are hits today, we see male characters expressing their emotions and female characters supporting them, and female characters expressing emotion, supported by male characters. When tragedy strikes our country, we are comforted more by a Prime Minister who weeps with us than one who vows angry, overly simplistic vengeance. And still even now, in the most important decisions of the world, we see strength elevated above compassion.

The gospel, unfortunately, often uses this same gendered language as metaphor and example. But the difference is that this represents an ideal combination of all qualities: decisiveness tempered by compassion, strength balanced by mercy, reason influenced by love.

And so, let’s ponder that important line in our second lesson, when Peter says, “, “Always be ready to make your defense… yet do it with gentleness and respect.”

In this line, we hear this: it is okay to defend yourself, to respond with strength to injustice. But do it gently and respectfully.

If only it were so easy. Gentleness is hardest precisely when we feel we need to defend ourselves. Respect is hardest when we are convinced the other person doesn’t deserve it. And humility—real humility—is hardest when we are sure we are right.

Blame evolution. Our brains were designed to protect us, so they see risk even when life is safe. When we feel threatened – physically, socially, emotionally – our brains step in like overzealous bodyguards. In that protective state, we become less open, less curious, and more certain that we are right. In psychology, this is sometimes called “defensive cognition.”

The mind tightens its grip, and we think and react. Often, we don’t even realize it is happening until the moment has passed. We have defaulted to “fight, flight, or freeze.” That’s not a moral failure—it’s biology. We respond out of instinct.

But the gospel is about not being a victim to instinct.

Both faith and psychology agree: courage is not doubling down. Courage is staying open.

Studies in recent years have shown that people who are able to express emotion and sit with vulnerability are happier and have better relationships. People who able to admit mistakes—publicly, honestly—are not weaker leaders. They are more trusted. More credible. And more resilient. When we live in that space of gentleness and respect – for others and for ourselves – we are not wasting energy building walls or protecting an image. We are free to hear the truth. We are free to tell the truth.

This is how Paul is inviting us to act, with a kind of regulated courage. A grounded presence. The ability to stay rooted in love even when we are misunderstood or maligned.

Psychologists call this emotional regulation—the capacity to remain connected to our values under stress.

You can see this quality throughout Jesus’s ministry when he is confronted by religious and political leaders, the mob of men ready to stone a woman to death, and countless other examples.

When confronted, Jesus rarely becomes defensive in the way we expect. He doesn’t scramble to protect his image. He doesn’t try to “win” arguments in the usual sense. Instead, he often tells the truth more deeply or asks a question that exposes what’s really going on.

Think of moments when religious leaders challenge him. He doesn’t react with anxiety about being misunderstood. He stays grounded. He redirects. He refuses to be controlled by the need to justify himself.

That is not passivity. It is a different kind of strength.

Courage is found in the ability to admit what you don’t know, to truly listen to another person, to see the fullness and complexity of who we are.

And telling the truth about ourselves is one of the bravest things we can do. And the most rewarding: who is stronger and more grounded in the gospel than the ones who truly know themselves?

It would, however, be hard to defy instinct on our own. A recent study on how to handle defensive people found that challenging them only made them shut down more – but making them feel socially connected and welcomed was the best way to open up.

And is that not what Jesus does in our Gospel this morning? He reminds us that we are connected and welcomed into his circle. “I will not leave you orphaned,” he promises.

Knowing we will not be abandoned, feeling that we are accepted, matters so much. One of the reasons it is so hard to admit we are wrong is that it feels like losing something – status, control, or belonging.

Jesus tells us that we can take the risk of openness, charity, and humility, because we are not alone. The Spirit abides within us. Our worth is not dependent on being right. Our value doesn’t collapse when we fail. We can, in that space, afford to be free. Free to listen. Free to change. Free to admit when we are wrong. Free to be honest with ourselves.

The Gospel cannot be achieved in a posture of defensiveness – it asks that we fight against that instinct. Someone who wants to change the world will always feel exposed, criticized, or uncertain. If our brain sees that only as a threat, we would shut down. But the Gospel moves us away from instinct to thinking and feeling, away from reflex to reason.

Here’s another way to think about it. Defensiveness assumes that our worth is fragile and must be guarded. And yet the gospel declares that our worth is already secured in relationship with God. So, when we cling tightly to being right, when we resist admitting fault, when we react instead of listen -- we are, in a sense, living as if the Gospel were not true.

We are acting as if everything depends on us. But when we trust the promise “you are in me, and I am in you”—then something shifts. We can afford to be wrong. We can make room for another person’s truth.

A defensive posture tries to protect the self at all costs. A faithful “defense” advances love and hope even if it costs something.

Today is a moment to say thank you to whoever it was in your life who helped you practice these values - decisiveness tempered by compassion, strength balanced by mercy, reason influenced by love. That person – a mother, an aunt, a sister, a teacher – and maybe a father, uncle, or brother – who demonstrated how to defend ourselves in the world, with gentleness and respect.

On Mother’s Day, we celebrate the womanly influences that made us who we are today. But also, with this day, we are elevating those qualities that make the world so much more feeling, compassionate, and caring.

The next time you feel your frustration rise, the next time you feel shame, the next time, you feel judged - Take a breath, pause, and open yourself up. Hear the wisdom of that familiar voice that showed you a better way, even though they were imperfect themselves. Recall the example of Jesus, who blended these best-of-qualities together. Remember the gospel.

Ask yourself: why am I feeling this way? What false or incomplete story am I telling myself right now? Whose need am I not seeing?

In this world, we may need to defend ourselves, and we are called to defend others. Always be ready. But take that next step gently and with respect.

Amen