>Andrew’s sermon today about incarnation was particularly interesting since, as he noted, this is an aspect of Biblical doctrine that is often substantively unexplored and, as he noted, addressed in a formalistic way.

A significant phrase for me in what Andrew said this morning was stated not in the sermon itself but in the prayer that preceded it. He talked about “continuous creation.” The idea that incarnation continues in our lives is closely related to possibilities of reading the Bible not just as historical narrative but simultaneously also as allegory: the Child is perennial reborn and God incarnate is always with us. Something else that really resonated with me was the notion that spiritual growth, growing more fully into perfect freedom by following God’s way is a gradual journey. When I was doing prison Ministry in Ohio’s jails, I had an opportunity one Sunday to speak with a quiet, sensitive and intelligent young African American man who had clearly been led by poverty into a life of economic dependence on the drug trade. He was perplexed and saddened because he wanted to have faith but had not had a dramatic spiritual experience or “prison conversion” as he would have hoped for or expected on the basis of the variant on Christianity he had been taught in his upbringing. We had been talking about St. Paul on the road to Damascus, and this man was hoping for the scales to fall from his eyes and to see clearly. We talked about how maybe that doesn’t happen all at once for most people, that revelations can be partial, as Andrew said: “surprises”, experiences of God in the personal and in mundane places, like a walk in the forest, a garden, or even a prison.

I also really appreciated the suggestion that perhaps those who claim not to believe in God have not had the nature of God explained appropriately. This idea sheds new light on the hyperbolic debates of folks like Christopher Hitchens and those who mirror him in Evangelical circles. Failure to define terms broadly or sensitively enough leads to foolish debate. Or criticism of Christianity by some as patriarchal when the key element of Christ’s incarnation rests itself on a moment that disrupts patriliny completely: Joseph embraces Jesus as his son despite the fact that he is not the biological father. Or the debates between creationist and evolutionist “scientists”, which rest on a failure of imagination to appreciate that continuous creation can include the processes of science.
… which makes me think of a country song:
“His fingerprints are everywhere
I’d just slow down to stop and stare
opened my eyes and man I swear
I saw God today.”
-George Strait

Rebecca B.

>This morning I found myself thinking about kings. Not surprising, since it’s Epiphany Sunday. We sang “We Three Kings,” and Andrew explained the galette des rois to the children. One of our readings was about King Herod trying to protect his throne by finding the young Messiah. But what especially struck me this morning was how undeserving the child-king Jesus was of those gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Perhaps because I’ve been feeling undeserving lately of all the gifts I’ve received, but it struck me that young Jesus hadn’t done anything to merit the gifts he was brought. They were truly just “gifts.”

Andrew’s sermon seemed so relevant this morning. The wonder and awe, the mystery of the miraculous, that is what’s it’s all about. There are so many things that we don’t understand with our mind, that we can only feel in our soul. I don’t know why I’ve been blessed with so many good things: a happy home, health, God’s great gift of condescension to mankind… But I do know I can accept them, and keep my eyes open to the wonder and awe of it all.

Maureen.

Recorded from the 11am service

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>Our own Peter Rombeek was in the pulpit this week, click below to listen to his sermon, “Knock, Knock.”

Sunday, January 2nd, 2011

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Peter Rombeek, studying at Vancouver School of Theology
Recorded from the 11am service

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>Joyous Christmas! Below you’ll read memories of Christmas Eve’s past. This morning, I invite you to share your Christmas memories in the comments: at St. Andrew’s church or at home with family; your first Christmas away from home; experiencing Christmas as a parent, excited children rising early; or spending the morning in quiet reflection…

Share a Christmas memory!

>

I love Christmas Eve. It has always been one of my favourite nights of the year.

Okay, I imagine I’m not the only one who feels that way; it’s a pretty common sentiment. Having grown up in St. Andrew’s, I have attended at least one of the Christmas Eve services in every year that I can remember, but one. I thought to kick off any bloggy celebrations of Christmas, I would share some of my memories of Christmas Eves past.

One year, my father made quite a mark on Christmas Eve. He was part of the performance of a play in the service, but not obviously so. In the days leading up to Christmas Eve, my father didn’t shave. Before heading to the church, he did not put on his best suit. He didn’t even sit in the pew with the rest of us.

The play began, and shortly after the first lines were recited, a scruffy man in the back row objected, causing a bit of a to-do and seemlingly interrupting the first scene of the play. Yes, it was my father. His role was that of a skeptical outsider who would come to the church and learn about Christmas. He relished this role, and he was quite pleased when one of his friends admitted that he (the friend) was about to get up in case this scruffy looking ne’er-do-well needed to be escorted out, not recognizing my Dad.

As a youngster, I, too, participated in a number of Christmas Eve services, beginning as a member of the junior choir, and later performing in plays and with the bell choir. I specifically remember one Christmas Eve play. It was not the typical pageant. It was not a pageant at all. It was set as a father talking to his children. It was a series of lessons explaining not just the Christmas story, but reason for Christmas and the need and joy of folloing Christ.

The play was directed by one of the choir members, Doug. Doug would pass away when I was 16, but throughout the years he spent at St. Andrew’s, Doug’s love and compassion was always evident. He was as devoted to the church and the children as he was the choir. Unfortunately for Doug, this particular performance hit a bit of a snag. Doug was directing, but not acting… or at least, he wasn’t planning to act. Shortly before Christmas, the man who was to play the role of the father had to drop out, and Doug did not have the time to find a replacement or learn the lines. He stepped right in, though, with the script taped inside a book used as a prop. From what I recall, it was a near seamless performance. Certainly, it went better than anyone would have guessed a few days earlier.

As I became a teenager, St. Andrew’s revived it’s senior bell choir, and Christmas Eve performances quickly became a staple. Each year, whether led by Sue or Kerry, we would be there, ringing out carols for the congregation. At first, we would perform at the Family Service, inhabiting the choir loft. It was rather magical to be up there, after years of watching the choir from below (it would also be a precursor to future Christmas Eves spent in the choir loft). Sitting up there offered a front row seat to one of the more memorable Christmas Eve performances I have witnessed, as one year my uncle, Ewen and Archie performed a trio of We Three Kings.

During the mid-1990s, I developed a different Christmas Eve ritual, one separate from my parents. As I approached the end of my teen years, my cousin and I began ushering on Christmas Eve. We were asked one year and, since there was no longer a senior bell choir, we decided to give it a go. It was, in many ways, a natural step. We had always been active in Christmas Eve services, whether performing in plays, singing in the junior choir or playing the bells; now, we were greeters, and as greeters we gained a whole new perspective on the Candlelight Service.

Ushering at the north door offered an interesting perpsective to the Christmas Eve service. We would not encounter as many “regular” attendees of St. Andrew’s. We would be blessed meeting visitors, both from within the city and elsewhere in the world, and seeing old friends who were no longer able to attend St. Andrew’s on a regular basis. Occasionally, we would even see friends we knew, but whom we never knew had a connection to the church. Upon ushering once, we made a point of ushering on Christmas Eve for many years to come.

Of course, ushering on Christmas Eve offered some unusual challenges, at times. There was one year where a bat found its way into the Narthex. With the aid of Maurice, then the church officer, we attempted to give the bat an escape, leaving all the doors open for the bulk of the service (making for a rather chilly sanctuary). The bat never did leave, but flew up into the bell tower instead.

Christmas Eve 2002 was quite strange for me. My mother was in the hospital. She would be in a coma for the majority of the holiday season, and we didn’t know if she’d emerge. As difficult as I knew it would be, I still felt the need and desire to go to the Candlelight Service. I was a little wary. I knew there would be questions about my mom, and I wasn’t sure how well I’d handle them. I also knew that there was no place I would feel more comfortable or comforted. I settled into the pew and never felt any regret for my decision. Despite all that was going on, it was like so many Christmas Eves of the past. In all honesty, I don’t particularly remember the service. I don’t remember the hymns or anthems. My memories are much different. I remember, again, spending a Christmas Eve with my cousin. As our repsective church attendance became more sporadic, we no longer saw each other on the weekly basis as we had while growing up. Having yet another evening with him was important.

After the service, my cousin ran in to a friend of his who was on the verge of joining our church. The three of us spent an hour chatting after the service; that’s no exaggeration. The church officer practically had to kick us out at 1:00 am.

A year later, Christmas Eve 2003, my mother was gone, having succumbed to leukemia the previous August. My cousin’s friend that I had met a year earlier had become my fiancee, and for the first time in ages I attended the Family Service, as she was singing. For the late service, I was giving one of the readings. My reading was paired with an anthem written by my mother when she was a student under Carmen Milligan. It was an experience as wonderful as it was painful.

There was another beauty to that evening, for once again there would soon be a Mrs. McLeod sitting in choir loft. And for the following four years, I would join her, spending Christmas Eves in the same loft that grandmothers, grandfather, uncle, aunt and mother had for years and years earlier.

2008 saw my exodus from the choir. Relatedly (and more importantly), that would be the first Christmas Eve I would spend with my daughter. Though I would miss the magic of the choir loft, the magic of fatherhood would more than suffice. For the first year or two of her life, my daughter developed a rather peculiar sleeping pattern, generally staying awake until 11:00 pm, or, regularly, much later. Tiring as such a schedule was, I thought it would work to my benefit on Christmas Eve, so the daughter and I decided to make our way to the Candlelight Service (my wife would be there anyway, still being in the choir). As you can imagine, a thoughtful plan and a baby do not always co-exist. My daughter decided that she did not want to be in the service after about the first verse of the first carol sung. Consequently, I spent the entire service in Narthex wearing a sleeping baby.

It was, however, rather fitting. After all those Christmas Eves that saw my cousin and I ushering, spending much time in that Narthex, it felt quite like coming home, but this time I had a wonderful baby girl with me.

This year, there will be no Candlelight Service for me. The entire family will be going to the early service. There had been some thoughts of having our daughter participate in the pageant, but, as with babies, a thoughtful plan and a toddler do not always co-exist.

But it matters not. There will still be carols; there will still be family; there will still be the Christmas story. And, most of all, there will still be joy. Through excitement, challenge, sorrow and comfort there has always been joy. It’s Christmas Eve; what more need there be?

So… what memories and feelings do you have about Christmas Eve?

>Two Sundays ago, we sang the hymn, What Child Is This? The timing was quite fortuitous as I was listening to it a week or two ago, and thought it might make a good post here at Sunday Lunch (and I would like to thank my dear wife for not covering this topic in her blog post from Sunday). The version to which I was listening, however, was not a traditional one; I was listening to a version arranged and recorded by Sufjan Stevens. It is, in my estimation, a wonderful re-interpretation of a classic carol.

This version demonstrates the timelessness of this piece, as it can find a home in both traditional and popular music. In that sense, it is an apt reflection of the joy we derive from Christ – joy that is eternal, everlasting. Granted, many other traditional carols have been given a modern glass (including others by Mr. Stevens), but the eternal nature of this piece is evident in more than just this new arrangement.

To me, the pay off of the piece comes in the second to last verse. It is not just about the musical tension, but the lyrical tension as well. It is rare the Christmas song that will offer such a harsh and brutal line as this:

Nails, spear shall pierce Him through,
The cross be borne for me, for you.

Christmas is not usually a time in which we deal with such violent and bloody imagery. Advent is a time of Peace, Joy, Love and Hope. Generally, we sing of the star, the peaceful night, the innocent babe, the shepherds and the three kings. It is not a time that we focus on the Passion. Especially in light of the popular adoption of Christmas – and, for good or ill, Christmas has become a cultural holiday, not just a religious one – the atmosphere is joyous. It’s lights and peace and goodwill towards men.

Then, to focus on the suffering can seem an uncomfortable juxtaposition. Certainly, in the song it is such, but it is useful – perhaps, even, necessary – if we are to fully explore our faith, the nature of Christmas and our relationship with God. Bringing in the brutality of the crucifixion is not necessarily a reactionary measure of a Christian trying to reclaim Christmas from the popular clutches of Santa and Frosty. No, it offers insight into the eternal nature of God, man and existence. Consequently, the modernization of the music by artists like Mr. Stevens is all the more appropriate because, on a more meta level, it is an apt reflection of the timelessness of Christ as demonstrated through the construction of the lyrics; it is this construction, both in terms of the subject matter and the juxtaposition, that provides the aforementioned insight.

A few years ago, our former Minister, Greg, led an Upper Room get-together in which we discussed St. Augustine’s Confessions. Specifically, we discussed Augustine’s thoughts on the nature of time, and the idea that the human experience of “time” came to our species with the bite of an apple. Though humans experience time as a linear progression of events, there is no reason to believe that this way of gathering, storing and assessing information is the actual way that existence unfolds; indeed, in its purest form (a form we would have experienced before the fall, and hope to experience after our temporal life), existence does not unfold, it merely is. This interpretation of the existence of time dovetails nicely with Presbyterian theology. (It also challenges popular notions of fate, providence, free will, pre-destination and creation.)

With our flaws comes an inability to fully and properly understand the intricacies of God and His creation. In this mortal world, to gain any understanding of existence requires experiencing existence linearly, but this linear progression of time is more a human construct than an elemental truth of God’s creation. As such, considering Christ’s birth an individual event, divorced from the context of his earthly life and beyond, is to err (however, considering Christ’s birth as an individual event is a valid coping mechanism in our broken world). In isolation, Christ’s birth is not the significant event that popular culture would have us believe. Even, in isolation, Christ’s death is not – if I may be so bold – of utmost importance. It was – is – His birth, His life, His pain, His death, His time in hell and His resurrection that is important.

Language is important here. I do not write that these events are important; I write that these events is important. Though we understand them in the plural, they compose a singular, and they compose a present-tense singular (for if we are to put a time constraint on the eternal, it must be the present). Conjugating our verbs to facilitate our imperfect interpretation of God’s existence and creation has a purpose, but too often we let our limitations in understanding some eternal truths unduly restrict our understanding of all eternal truths.

This, then, is what What Child Is This? has brought us. It is the reminder that Christmas is not merely a precursor to the ensuing life, death and resurrection of Christ, nor a stand-alone event in Christ’s life, but an inseparable part of Christ’s full existence.

It is, certainly, more straightforward for us to think of Christmas, then of Good Friday, then of Easter Sunday; the sequence helps us both in processing Christ’s existence as well as the 2010/2011 calendar year. We experience the joy of Christmas. Later, we experience the joy of Palm Sunday, which leads to the trepidation of Maundy Thursday, which leads to the sorrow of Good Friday and, finally, to the joy of Easter Sunday.

But these are not separate, or even sequential, events, even if our living would so lead us to believe. They are not linked by a process or a serial dependency, but are all a part of the experience of being a follower of Christ. The joy of Christmas is the sorrow of Good Friday. The sorrow of Good Friday is the joy of Easter. We cannot separate each event from one another, nor should we even try. We will distinguish between them, but such compartmentalizing is only necessary because of our broken nature. Again, it is just a construct that we require in order to approach God, after having fallen so far from Him. Artificial though it may be, it still holds value, but its value is as a guidepost on our journey to Christ. It is not the destination.

So it is good to be reminded, during this time, not just of the birth of Christ, but of the suffering and of the resurrection. Holding all these events together in our hearts will bring us greater meaning, and will bring us closer to Him.

Christmas is Good Friday. It is Easter.

>I was delighted by Andrew’s choice of sermon topic this morning.

The importance of choice must not be undervalued. Throughout scripture, both Old and New Testaments, we see example after example of the importance, the absolute necessity of choice for our humanity. As far back as the second chapter of Genesis, human choice affects and effects history. But despite the prevalence of examples, we often read these stories without appreciating the essential character of the choices made by the people immortalized in holy literature. Too often, we are comfortable discussing the “wrong” choices made by some – Adam and Eve, Cain, the citizens of Sodom, Pilate, Judas Iscariot – but dismiss the “right” choices as merely submission to the will of God or that person’s destiny, ordained by God.

But choice is important. It is essential to our humanity, and it is essential to our relationship with God. Through Jesus Christ we are given a most monumental choice: to accept His salvation and His yoke which comes with it, or not. He gives us the choice to accept the conditions of a relationship with the Divine. What is also remarkable is that even His conception came with a choice.

As Denise Levertov writes in her poem, Annunciation,

But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
God waited.
She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.

Andrew’s reflection on the word used by Mary as related in Greek, “doula”, was particularly fitting and struck me very personally – and, truly, isn’t it always best we are personally touched and affected by scripture? The word originally meant simply “servant” but now, as Andrew noted, it is used to refer to women who attend other women before, during and following birthing. As one who has birthed a child while attended by a doula, who will do so again in just a few months, and as a woman who is also preparing to become a doula myself, I found this linguistic connection struck me very personally. The use of the word “doula” relates that Mary doesn’t merely agree to be a vessel, an incubator for the Messiah: she agrees to help the Almighty bring this Saviour into the world. She agrees to help God birth.

A phrase often used in the birthing and doula community in defining the role of the doula in a birth is that she “mothers the mother”. Truly, Mary consents not only to birthing the Christ-child, but to being His mother. She agrees to carry Him in her body, but also in her heart. To care for Him, but also about Him. To love Him.

- Darlene M

>This year, I am particularly enjoying the progression of the Sundays through Advent, the order of the celebratory candles we are lighting. We began with Hope, with looking forward to what can and will be, accepting the possibility of new and unexpected blessings. It allows us to experience Peace, both peace in our hearts and peace in our lives: we have no need for fear, for we already carry the Hope of Christ. And through that Hope and Peace, we arrive at Joy.

At first glance, it would seem a little unrelated to focus on the ministry and prophecy of John the Baptizer during the Sunday when we light the Candle of Joy. As Dr. Johnston noted in his sermon, the words of John were not particularly joyful or upbeat, but instead he preached repentance and our intense need to a change of heart, a radical altering to our way of life to save us from damnation. But that’s just a part of the journey. Our experience as Christians doesn’t culminate in our repentance, but in our redemption. As Andrew said this morning, it is only through acknowledging darkness that we can see and appreciate light. It is only through acknowledging our sinfulness and our desperate need for God that we can properly turn towards Him and experience most fully the joyfulness of His offer of salvation.

I truly appreciated the substance of the sermon today, as it is often so easy to become caught up in the “doom and gloom” so often professed in Christendom. Andrew’s relating of the failure of the Pharisees and the Sadducees to observe their faith properly was particularly telling: we, too, must not focus only the practice of acts as a marking of observant religion, but must use our practice as a means of turning to God, of reminding ourselves that we alone are insufficient. We need God Almighty and the favour and salvation He affords us.

The final hymn summed up this theme beautifully. Herald, sound the note of judgment: because it is only through judging ourselves to be in need of redemption that we can fully experience it. Herald, sound the note of gladness: we are not alone! Emmanuel! Herald, sound the note of pardon: our salvation is now at hand. Our Saviour has come! Herald, sound the note of triumph: Christ is victorious over the grave. Our ransom is paid and we can live in the light of God’s Grace!

Darlene M

UPDATE: The recorded sermon is available here.

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> 
“God with us” – Emmanuel
 
This morning we celebrated the second week of Advent, in preparation of the coming of Christ to the world two thousand years ago, as well as the second coming, and took part in the Lord’s Supper.  I love the combination of these two.  It feels like we are celebrating and committing ourselves to the birth, death, and then the second coming of Jesus all at once.  These two events, I think, depict God’s complete commitment and steadfast love for us, now and forever.  (Even so, I caught myself busy thinking about things-to-do for the fast approaching Christmas season.  That would be some kind of advent activity on a personal level, wouldn’t it?)
 
When Andrew spoke of “our” song, Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel, I felt that it could easily be “our” song for everyone who believes in God, whose presence is in us for every moment of our life, hence, Emmanuel, “God with us.”  It was not us who came up with that name, or title, for Christ, but it was God himself who gave that name to His only son.  Perhaps, this was God’s way of saying that He wants to be with us, among us.  I just hope that my thoughts, words, or actions would not muck up His desire to be with us, or hinder anyone else wanting to get closer to God.
 
Jonathan K.

>I love the Advent Season – and perhaps the first Sunday is my favourite of all. The lighting of the candle of hope is always very moving for me. It is a time to focus forward, to feel and to know the promise of Advent. By looking toward the future, perhaps we are able to slough off the fetters of the past, and the anxieties of the present.

Reverend Johnston’s sermon was entitled “Preparation!” The exclamation point is his, not mine, and I believe to emphasize that the preparing to be ready is as important as the being ready. This is surely comforting – knowing that for all our faults and shortcomings, the work of preparation is our supreme task as Christians.

Following the text of Matthew 24, Reverend Johnston challenged us to change our perspective – to be future-centred, not past-focused. The future described in this passage in Matthew is the Rapture – the Second Coming of Lord Jesus Christ on Earth. It is this future event for which we light the candle of hope, and toward which we look.

The troubling part of this passage for me is the 50% of the people who are not taken. “Are they unworthy?”, I think. “Am I unworthy?”, I selfishly think. Of course, there is no certain answer to these questions, but there is hope. And there is the work of preparation which may make us more ready to be taken into the glory of the Rapture. This work, clearly, is more difficult than the promise in buying an “R4R” mousepad or t-shirt! But it is the work of preparing our hearts and lives to be acceptable and pleasing to God, and in living out the promise and the hope of the Advent Season that we come to be closer to Christ.

>As a confirmed goer to the 9:30 service, it’s always a pleasure to experience the fuller service of 11:00. the choir, the children, the fuller congregation – everything! This morning was particularly moving as it was a time for the whole congregation to come together to profess publicly to each other our commitment to Christian life together and to St. Andrew’s Ottawa in particular.

I enjoyed the choir being closer to the congregation and I especially enjoyed the Moses story as depicted by the children. I never imagined Moses saying “Holy Smoke”, but I’m sure but it was certainly fitting to describe the voice of God coming out of a burning yet not consumed burning bush.

Reverend Johnston pointed out that we identify with the bush, the bush who was going about its earthly business doing whatever a bush does, until one day God needed that bush and acted through it. Apparently, we too are going about our business always at hand to be the conduit for God. It made me wonder if this is really the case. Are we, or at least, am I open enough to be of use to God. Would I be be watching TV when God came? Would I be working? Would I be answering email, texting, playing a video game, even asleep? perhaps God used the bush because, as a bush, it didn’t have the luxury of distractions. perhaps i ouht to take some time to be more open, more attuned and more aware, less distracted, less busy, for God to work through me. And this, I think is one lesson of Covenant Sunday – being aware that we as a congregation need to make some time, devote some talent, divert some treasure for His work, through St. Andrews and the Presbyterian ministry.

On a practical note, I’ve been doing the PAR contributions for 2 years now, and it is so easy. It also makes the option of sleeping in on a Sunday morning less guilt-inducing knowing that the contribution goes to work, even if I don’t go to church!

Geoffrey

>Music in the worship service is a powerful force. The excellent singing by the choir in the opening and closing hymns, Praise, my soul, the King of heaven and Great is thy faithness, rose and touched me. What is it in the hymn God of the sparrow, God of the whale that is so moving? The simplicity of the words and music? It brought tears to my eyes.

It was wonderful to have The St Andrew’s Hand Bell choir perform. Beyond all Praising was very respectfully played.
Faithfulness was the theme of the sermon. Faithfulness in marriage is our greatest good; it is of the essence.

Margaret M.

>Every Sunday at St Andrews is a special Sunday however today was extra special as everyone there heard through the children’s story the importance of saying thank you to the countless men and women who have fought and in many cases even gave their life that we might have a free country in which to live. How moving to hear those young voice in unison thanking our veterans and service people of today.

There were 2 lines from the sermon that caught my attention more than the others.

“Every human life is a creation of God”.

“War for a Christian is never good, it is even considered failure”.

How much value do we as Christians, place on human kind? Do we look at War as failure of God’s will? If we were true to each and every commandment, how do we justify the atrocities of war? Love your neighbour, Thou Shalt not Kill and on it goes

O day of Peace that dimly shines!

Let each of us take time on this Remembrance Day to not only pause to give thanks but also to pray to God and ask him for strength and wisdom to honour this commandment, “Thou Shalt not murder/kill. As the lament of the bagpipes calls us to a place of remembrance, so may our time of prayer draw us to a time of closeness with God that he may guide us in the way he would have us go.

- Grant P.

>Something happened this Sunday morning that made us think of Abass Hassan Mohammed. James met Abass in a refugee camp in Kenya in 2004. Abass had fled Somalia with his family in 1992 and had survived in one of the poorest and most violent refugee camps in Africa for more than a decade. But Abass had accomplished something even more remarkable: his final high school exam results ranked him first in his province and eighth in Kenya. With the help and encouragement of strangers and friends, he won a scholarship to study at Princeton University.

Abass’s incredible journey was made possible, in large part, by light. Recognizing the importance of education, his parents spent what little money they had on kerosene, so that Abass could study after sunset. Providing light for their son was a significant sacrifice for them to make in a camp where refugees barely receive enough food to survive.

How often do we take light for granted?

Light was the central theme of Reformation Sunday at St. Andrew’s this morning. In our reading of Matthew 5:14-16, Jesus tells us that we are “the light of the world.” In the message from the Rev. Dr. Emidio Campi, we learned that a central image of the early Reformation was uncovering the light, which is the word of God. We were challenged to let this light be free and to shine in the world through our actions. As we sang in the children’s hymn:

Jesus bids us shine, then for all around;
Many kinds of darkness in this world abound:
Sin and want and sorrow; so we must shine,
You in your small corner, and I in mine.

We heard of one opportunity to let our light shine at the start of the service when we learned more about the decision by St. Andrew’s to sponsor the S* family for resettlement to Canada. The S* are an Iraqi Christian family. They have lived as refugees in Syria for many years due to the violence and persecution of Christians in their homeland.

When introducing us to this ministry of our congregation, Peter L. reminded us of Matthew 25:31-46, where we hear that God calls us to feed the hungry, refresh the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, care for the sick and show solidarity with the imprisoned.

This call for action is as important today as it was 500 years ago at the start of the Reformation. Indeed, a central message of this morning’s sermon was what God did through Reformation. “We don’t remember Reformation to celebrate tradition but to celebrate God’s action,” said Rev. Dr. Campi. “The Reformers were illuminated by God’s living word.”

If God accomplished all this through the Reformers so long ago, what can God accomplish through us today if we let our light shine?

– Laurie Mackenzie and James Milner

>Thou Shalt Share: Honouring God, Respecting Others

The focus of today’s service was justice and forming a just society.

The lesson for the children really resounded with us. Andrew talked about an ice cream factory that made his favourite flavour: mint chocolate chip. He explained to the children that, to make this delicious ice cream, you need a large vat of milk, a bucket of sugar, a small bowl of chocolate chips, an even smaller dish of green food colouring, and, lastly, a very tiny container of mint flavouring.

One day, however, the ice cream factory made the ice cream but forgot to include that tiny container of mint flavouring. Nobody liked the taste of the ice cream, and nobody wanted it. They learned that, in this case, the smallest ingredient was the most important – the one that completed the recipe and gave the ice cream its distinctive and appealing flavour.

Andrew asked us to think about how this story might apply to society. He asked us to think about people in our city and in our lives: those who are poor, those who struggle with school, those who are old, those who are ill. Jesus said that it is, in fact, these people who are the most important. If we can’t take care of them, if we can’t love them, then nothing in the world is right. In other words, we’ll be missing an essential ingredient, just like the mint in the ice-cream.

Andrew also encouraged us to look at the commandment “Thou shalt not steal” in a new light. He put forth the idea that, instead of thinking only of the prohibition contained in these three words, we might want to consider them as a positive exhortation, something more like, “Thou shalt share.”

Stephen Allen, Associate Secretary, Justice Ministries of the Presbyterian Church in Canada, expanded on this idea in his sermon, called “Signposts to Freedom.” Drawing on the experiences of diverse groups of people who struggled – and still struggle – for justice and freedom, he suggested that we think about the commandments not just as rules that tell us what not to do, but as constructive starting points that could help frame the way we live.

Quoting Leviticus 25, Stephen spoke about the year of jubilee: Every 7 years, fields are to lie fallow; every 50 years, land is to be returned to its owner and debts are to be cancelled. He spoke of how this concept applies today, a time in which many people – the Global South in particular – struggle with crippling debt. Stephen also mentioned the active role St. Andrew’s played in working to cancel these debts during the Ecumenical Jubilee Campaign (1999-2001), reminding us not to underestimate the role that the church can play in public life and how it can contribute as a forum for moral deliberation.

What we took from this morning’s service: In a world plagued by suffering, injustice and inequality, we should think more about those in need and find new ways to act on the lesson of sharing behind the four words “Thou shalt not steal.”

After all, we all need a little mint in our ice cream.

-Katherine and Jeremy Boyes

UPDATE: Listen to Rev. Johnston’s children’s story here. (8minutes, 7.8MB)

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>Rebecca thought it was especially apt on a personal level that today was the day we explored the fifth commandment – honour thy father and mother – it’s her mother’s birthday!
We found it very helpful that Andrew was careful to distinguish between honouring one’s parents and, as an adult, obeying them. Sometimes it is a dishonour to someone to obey them blindly if we don’t agree with them, and it is important, especially as people live longer and longer, to consider how parents and children can live together as adults.
The discussion of health care Andrew offered – universal health care being a necessary incident of honouring one’s elders writ large – was especially salient for both of us – for Matt of course, as a physician and also for both of us having lived recently in the United States in the midst of health care debates. We have often wondered how people can think, claim, shout, that they are following in the ways of Christ and at the same time contend that they don’t want their tax dollars to pay for health care for others.
This week, as Andrew mentioned, we are all no doubt riveted to the images of Chilean miners raised from the depths of 69 days in a dark mine shaft a kilometre below the ground. Two kinds of stories coming out of the coverage about this wonderful rescue are of particular relevance to today’s sermon. First, the stories of faith and community coming from the miners – about how they stayed organized in a social structure despite harrowing conditions, and how they kept faith and hope. Second, analogies of their experience to birth and rebirth have been interesting. In this sense, the rescuers become the metaphorical parents and caregivers to the men, who gestate in the earth’s womb and are reborn into the world. The singular devotion of Chilean authorities, and especially their President, to the rescue of these men, is a truly inspiring story and a telling allegory for how God is with us, how a community of human beings can care for one another and how we can honour each other.

Matt and Rebecca Bromwich

>Give thanks! Share your thoughts after this Sunday’s time in worship by leaving a comment below.

>”O Blessed are they that hope and trust in the Lord”

The theme in the anthem, and such a wonderful promise/reality for all Christians. The Lord’s Supper is such a blessed reminder of God’s great love for his children, the Shepherd with the crook/staff to rescue his sheep/children from the thicket along the pathway. As I watched the pews fill up this morning, I was thinking how interesting it would be to know the different kind of motivations that spurred each one to attend today’s worship. For some it is the thing to do on a regular basis, for some they may have been passing through town and were with us for a one time visit, for some, seeking support during a difficult time, and maybe for others to partake in the Lord`s supper. Whatever the reason, we were all there by the aid of the Great Shepherd.

I was very intrigued with Andrew’s message today, very to the point and such a wonderful explanation of a, shall we say, challenge which faces so many of us on a daily basis.

Busy>>>>>>burning of the heart, indeed!

I found the concept of the Sabbath being the pinnacle of our work, so interesting. I can now ponder it from a different view. I look upon the Sabbath as a day of rest for the store of energy for the coming week. What is your perspective?
I do agree that we are very very vulnerable to wearing out our mind ,body and soul on work, on whatever, and are left with no energy for God, for our fellow human kind and ourselves.

Why do we allow this to be? Why do I ? Why do you? Why does our Church?

I pray that our message today will bring to the fore front for each of us, the simple things like, “the wine and the bread”.

Your thoughts please,
Regards, Grant

UPDATE: A short summary of the sermon is available here: The Sabbath.mp3

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>What strikes me about this week’s commandment is that as Christians, we carry the name of Christ. As a result, it’s our responsibility not to take the Lord’s name in vain, not only in how we speak, but in how we live. It’s our joy to allow others to see the Christ clearly in us.

This series on the 10 Commandments that Andrew’s been leading us through has been quite amazing. I expected 10 weeks of constrictive Thou Shalt Nots, and what I’m realising is that we have 10 weeks (an entire lifetime!) of freedom giving You Get Tos.

UPDATE: A short summary of this morning’s sermon is available to listen to in mp3 format. Click here to download the file.

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>Graven images: what is seen

Imagery is powerful. When I’ve studied ancient Christian thinkers who argued against the use of images in worship, I’ve been able to understand why they wrote so strongly against graven images. We know that we are flawed and fallen people, we know that we are weak of will and changeable in spirit. As we read from Exodus this morning, we know the temptation to clasp to what is seen in our moments of weakness and trouble. There is a risk to the use of imagery, the risk of clinging to the image and refusing to see past it.

But there is great potential, too. There is the possibility of new thoughts, new feelings, new expressions of faith. An idea, a concept, depicted through art, may be presented in a new and compelling way, compelling our thoughts, compelling us to new understanding. Because imagery can be so powerful, it can challenge us. It can force us to envision things in a new way.

We must not grave an image and then view the image as truth, as the totality of God. As Andrew noted during the sermon this morning, reducing our vision of God to a physical depiction is the problem. But using images to challenge our concept of God – such as not merely depicting Jesus as a blond-haired, blue eyed, fair skinned man, or imaging God the Father as a Mother – not only keeps us from the sin of worshipping the image, but it broadens our understanding of the Divine. It propels us into a more dynamic relationship with the LORD. I had the privilege of sharing my thoughts on how our understanding of God’s identity informs our relationship with Her during a sermon this summer up at Gracefield.

As Paul wrote to the Christians of Corinth, “So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen; for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” Approaching our images as a momentary impression of the Almighty, as a tiny glimpse of Her Great Infinity can be beautiful, powerful, and helpful. But there is the risk of sin: we proceed with caution.

:: Darlene

>I’m a little late getting this up, but there was so much to think about from this morning’s service – so many images as well – the warning buoys, and my favourite – has anyone ever thought about God being the top button before??

As we start a new congregational year, a new year in the Jewish calendar, a new season after the Feast of Eid in the Muslim faith, and a new academic year for some of us, it was indeed good to be guided back to the Word of God through the commandments. I am intrigued to follow the next sermons to see how we can discern the Speaker (God) from, by and through His Ten Words (the commandments)and how that Word will be revealed as Flesh (Jesus Christ).

Today’s intro focused on the preamble that was read about God introducing himself and I think here it’s good to think of all meanings of “introduce” – God inserted himself into the lives of the Hebrew slaves and presented Himself to them – “I am God, your God, who brought you out of the and of Egypt, out of a life of slavery.”

This is an active God, clearly. Our minister paused on this point for a bit, and it made me wonder – how well do we hear God’s Word or words to us today? Rarely do people claim to have heard or spoken with God, and even if they did, they may not be fully believed. “How is God active in our lives?”, our minister asked the congregation. “How are we active in God’s Word?” is another question that we may benefit from pondering. I know I will.

As we continue through a discussion of the Commandments, I want to keep an open mind – the laws are here to set us free from distractions that distance us from God. This afternoon, I went to the Pop Art show at the National Gallery and saw a T-Shirt by Keith Haring that said something like “Save Me From the Things I Like” superimposed over a cross. This is not meant irreverently, and I hope not to offend, but I found it a good companion piece to the sermon. The commandments really are the bobbing buoys on the water – marking dangers that are unseen as we start out in our ship this first Sunday of a new year.

>Paul, ten-thousand hours and The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit

Listening to today’s sermon reminded me of The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, which explored the search for contentment in the emerging materialism of the 1950s. It struck a cord at the time because the consumerism of the post-war boom, which held such promise for a generation that endured the Depression and the war, was beginning to wear thin. As Andrew pointed out today, Paul promise is that we can learn contentment through our faith.

Learning takes effort and more effort than we often realize. No matter the level of talent, the rule-of-thumb is that it takes ten-thousand hours to truly master a skill, be it a musical instrument or trade. It should come as no surprise then that contentment is so illusive. But at least in Christ we have a great teacher.
-Mark

>Writing about a church service at St. Andrew’s can be a difficult exercise. It’s hard to know what to emphasize. Some might focus on the storied history of the church, or the famous persons that worshiped there in the past. Others might notice the striking architecture or the beautiful music, or perhaps the diversity of the congregation, which provides a good cross-section of Ottawa as a whole.

All these elements demand the observer’s attention, but when I attend St. Andrew’s the Bible reading and sermon capture my attention the most. I think this is because the word of God provides me with both comfort and challenge for my everyday life: comfort because I am forced to recognize God’s love, and challenge because I am often called to change the ways in which I have misunderstood God and His creation.

Pastor Andrew’s sermon of 29/08/2010 offered both challenge and comfort, with three simple (but important) truths. First, God is near. Second, because God is near we can rejoice, even in suffering. Third, in spite of suffering, there is much good in the world and we should learn to appreciate it.

The idea that God is near some times seems a bit foreign to me. As a Christian I’ve been conditioned to treat God with great reverence and to think of Him as concerned with heavenly things. Paul’s letter to the Philippians reminds me, however, that God is deeply concerned about my life and about His church. It is a thought that is humbling and empowering at the same time. In addition, the idea that we can rejoice in suffering seems strange. Like most people I tend to rejoice (if that’s the right word) only in times of peace and plenty. Paul tells his readers to rejoice even in suffering, because God remains close to all believers in all circumstances. Finally, like many Christians I am intimidated by the rapid secularization of our country (of the entire Western world it seems), and I have great apprehension for the future, but Paul does not allow Christians to give up on the world. Instead, he insists that we find (and celebrate) everything that is pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy.

While these concepts are challenging to me and disrupt many of my assumptions about the world, they also offer a great deal of comfort. God is near; He isn’t distant or detached. I can rejoice in suffering, because God has not abandoned me; He will heal my suffering in time. Finally, the world is not left to its own devices, rather God urges us (through His servant Paul) to find good in the world: to notice and enjoy it as God’s own creation.

I hope that you will find many messages that will both challenge and comfort you as you continue your journey through life with God at your side.

Harold

>A dark dreary morning>>> How do you feel on this kind of day? Are you discouraged and down heartened because it is not sunny and warm for that special Sunday event that you have waited for all week or did you rise and go to worship to give thanks to God for all he has given to us and to show love and encouragement to your neighbour? Well if you entered worship feeling the first, I am sure you would have left the sanctuary feeing the latter! To me the whole message this morning was,what a beautiful link between the world and it’s creator.

Rev. Andrew had such a wonderful story for our children, “God has entrusted to our care one of his greatest treasures, The World”. How wonderful to have a tangible example for the children, holding onto the ball/world as an example that we are all to be stewarts in common of God’s precious gift to us.

As I ponder the scriptures, hymns and the sermon, I clearly see two ways of digesting the content of the main points that spoke most clearly to me.

“Press on”
“Fight the good fight”
“Forget what lies behind and strain forward”

Clearly , these can be looked at as out and out commands/orders from our Heavenly Father. What a challenge it would be if that was the only way these points could be taken. I know many times this is how I have looked at them. These to me are the times when one is trying to “go it on your own” not looking to God for guidance or seeking to do his will. But Alas!! as Andrew has illistrated to us this morning, these are far from commands but rather kind, warm and loving invitations from God to travel on the pathway with him toward our eternal reward, that ultimate reward of spending eternity with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Press on, the way is not always easy but neither was the way that Jesus trod, High King of heaven, when the battle is done, grant to us heaven’s joy.

The energy that one needs to draw on to be able to “Press on”,was exemplified in the postlude (Toccata) which Tom shared with us. What a challenging piece of music for the composer, the performer and yes, the listener, Thank you Tom for living the message and sharing your enthusiasim with us.

How do we as a church press on in unity?
How do we get off of the tread mill of life and take time to be with God?

These are my thoughts, please share yours! God Bless

Grant

>Did you notice Hymn 635 this morning?

Brother, sister, let me serve you;
let me be as Christ to you;
pray that I may have the grace to
let you be my servant too.

It’s one thing to be a servant. But it’s another thing to allow others to serve you, too.

What about you? Were you served by someone this morning? What did Rev. Williams’ Forgiveness sermon teach you?

>Because it’s my turn to start the conversation on the blog, during this morning’s worship I was mulling over what to post here. I had it in my mind to post about the children’s story (which I loved!) because recently it seems lots of people I know are facing trials, and it was such a good reminder to listen to God, and to trust God even when it seems like we should run.

But then Rev. Clarke threw a curve ball. The sermon was about the fig tree that wasn’t bearing any fruit. The owner of the garden wanted it cut down, but the gardener wanted a little time to nurture it and give it a chance to thrive. The minister described God as the Gardener, and that the Gardener is patient and wants us to thrive. Rev. Clarke talked about us coming into her (the Gardener’s) sanctuary.

That one little pronoun really brought my thinking around, really pointed out to me the nurturing, caregiving characteristics of God. I’m not sure if Rev. Clarke chose that pronoun specifically, or if she was just making a point about God being the Gardener. (It is also possible that I misheard the sentence and Rev. Clarke wasn’t heading in that direction at all!) I like to think of myself as understanding that God is gender neutral, that referring to God traditionally as he doesn’t make him male. But to hear God referred to as her was kind of nice. A reminder that God’s character has feminine aspects to it, too. That God is bigger than the box I try to fit him into.

What about you? How did you see God this morning?

Maureen.

>On this perfect summer morning, we paused before entering the church
to admire St. Andrew’s glorious gardens, and also to seek out a particular
small stone tucked among the flowers. Painted yellow, the stone arrived
this spring, and it carries a cross, a name, a date, and the name of a far-away
country. This tiny leaf-covered memorial eases a sorrowful heart, I hope.

In the Sanctuary this morning were two bouquets, each a mix of garden
and field flowers, including loosestrife. These blooms had been lovingly
gathered, arranged and brought to church, and we enjoyed this gift.

As the church bell rang out in invitation, and the organ prelude began, I
was filled with gratitude that we are able to attend services in this church
where we feel so at home. This morning, the music was wonderful. It always
is. The “Rhosymedre” offertory was exquisite, the Vivaldi solo so beautifully
sung, and the postlude was powerful and uplifting. Of the hymns, the music
for one dated from the 16th century, while that of another was more recent, 1948.
How fortunate we are to be able to range through the centuries under the
guidance of out Director of Music. How wonderful that we have that treasure
house of psalms, poetry and music, The Book of Praise.

Our visiting minister today was The Rev. Dr. James Christie, Dean of Theology
at the University of Winnipeg, and Secretary General of the June G8 Religious
Leaders 2010 Summit, which focused upon the Millennium Development Goals.
No stranger to Ottawa or to St. Andrew’s, Dr. Christie’s opening prayer was
all-encompassing, quite wonderful, and I wish I had a copy of it.

The sermon took us on the road, three roads actually, all leading away from
Jerusalem: to Jericho, Emmaus and Damascus. The linked stories, of course,
were of the Good Samaritan, Jesus’ appearance on the road to Emmaus after
the Resurrection, and Paul’s sudden blindness, as described in Acts 9, 1-9. In
each case, the participants in these stories had their worlds widely expanded.
I couldn’t help thinking that my Kennedy Grandparents (Knox, Cannington) would
have described this as “a dandy sermon”, most deserving of discussion over Sunday
lunch and maybe over supper too. And so it was, a sermon to ponder, laced with
insights and dashes of humour.

We are so grateful to all those who contributed in so many ways to this rich hour of
worship with which we begin our week.

Sheila

>

It happens all the time whenever I get to church service late, the feeling of getting up close and personal with ushers/greeters at the door. It happened again this morning – I was greeted by a familiar face at the door, who handed me a service program, and, then, I joined the congregation in the Lord’s Prayer while standing at the foyer before taking up a seat in the sanctuary.

This got me thinking about volunteerism at church.

Having been asked to do ushering a few times, I realize that it takes a certain amount of efforts and dedication of a person, or people, behind the scene well before a Sunday service, who looks after the logistics of having ushers at the door each and every service, and, not to mention those who make themselves available for the tasks. And this is only one of many aspects of church life or community where we all benefit from because people share their time and other resources. To this, I am grateful and proud to be part of that community.

Jonathan.

>Today we were reminded that salvation is not as simple of applying a dab of Polysporin to a burn or a wound, but that it is to be worked out, worked at, worked through. And, thankfully, that we are not alone in this work – God is at work in us.

In our continuing examination of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, Paul sounds a confident note of surest hope that his flock, and by extension us, will work on salvation in concert with God, by doing His will and eventually “shine like stars in the world”. This, I think, explains the former reference to “fear and shuddering”. It seems an awesome responsibility to be a star. Do I feel worthy of this – definitely no. I appreciate the challenge inherent in this though. Often Christianity can seem a comfort, but the sense of work and rising up within myself is a difficult task.

Reverend Johnston helped us normalise the wonder of the question “what’s the meaning of life?” all the while insisting that the Christian response to the despondency and despair that such a question can engender is the resounding faith in salvation. This process, of course is given us by the grace of God, and as such, salvation begins with God, with God’s working within us.

Our minister referred to Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit (Huis Clos) as one imagination of what Hell might be – not just the absence of God, but in the play, no mirrors either. No community to reflect back to us our thoughts and deeds, and no self-perception either. This is what our congregation provides to me at least – a place for reflection in both senses of that word: a space to pause and indulge in introspection that is lacking in the rest of my life, and within a community with similar yearnings.

Do you feel the same sense of responsibility in taking up Paul’s challenge to be a star? What are your challenges to accepting God’s work within you to achieve salvation?

– Geoffrey

>This morning’s service made me wonder about worship. I admit, I felt a bit like the hymn we sang, How does the creature say Praise? I didn’t have (and still don’t have now) the words to express what I was feeling, but I knew it felt worshipful. The music was inspired. Even though Debussy may not have written his pieces specifically for worship, the beauty of the work was incredibly worshipful. Ruth’s flowers on the communion table; their simple beauty made me worshipful. Sitting in the sanctuary, built by men over a hundred and thirty years ago, amidst the strong columns and the stained glass windows, that made me feel worshipful.

And then Andrew reminded us that we make sense of our world by remembering to worship God. That we worship God because of his complete love shown through Jesus Christ coming to earth. And that if we begin with Christ and allow him to be our focus, if we become like Christ, God will shine through us like the beautiful light through the stained glass windows.

Beauty, bringing us to a place of worship, which then makes us beautiful through God’s light. What brings you to a place of worship? Were there aspects of this morning’s service that made you feel a little closer in your walk with God?

>Have you thought of contributing to the blog? Comments on any post are most welcome! And if you’d like to write a post, leave a comment or email the church at contact@standrewsottawa.ca and we’ll set you up.