The Story of Kalanit -- The Easter Squirrel

Caucasian Squirrel -- Picture Source

There were a lot of people who came to Jerusalem for Passover that first Easter, But there were a lot of animals that lived in and around the city all of the time. They got a first hand view of the events of Palm Sunday, through to Easter Sunday. One of them was a curious little squirrel named Kalanit.

From the time she was a baby Kalanit had been curious about those two-legged beings that made so much noise. Her mother always told her that those were dangerous creatures and she should run away when they came but she just had to know what they were doing. Besides, occasionally one of them would drop a tasty snack for her to eat. That is why she spent so much time in the trees along the road to Jerusalem.

One day Kalanit was scurrying along the roadside looking for food when she saw something strange. There were always people walking along the road but today they were standing alongside it. This intrigued Kalanit so she climbed one of the trees and slid out on a branch for a closer look. She could see someone coming along riding a donkey. Suddenly the branch she was on shook terribly, as if someone was trying it tear it off the tree. Quickly she jumped up higher to a safer place.

Kalanit looked with amazement as people tore branches off the trees and laid them on the road. The man on the donkey rode over the branches as the people yelled “Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” She wished she understood what these sounds meant. The two legged creatures seemed so happy, so excited. Obviously something important was happening.

As Kalanit watched she looked at the donkey. It looked so calm, so peaceful, so happy. Then she looked up at the rider. There was something about him. Just watching him go by she felt like everything was right with the world, like it would all be alright somehow. The the donkey went around the bend in the road, the crowd followed him and the road grew quiet again. Kalanit stood and watched after them for a long time, pondering the strange rider, before she resumed scrounging for food.

A few days later Kalanit was in a garden outside the city. She had returned to her nest high up in one of the larger trees for the night. Suddenly a small group of the two-legged creatures appeared. Irritated at this interruption to her sleep Kalanit started to chatter loudly, then she saw that one of the men was the rider from the roadway. Once again when she looked at him she had that sense of power, a sense that with him all would be well eventually. But something was wrong.

The man went off by himself. He fell to his knees Tears were streaming down his face. She heard the sounds “Lord take this cup away from me! But let your will, not mine, be done”. Again she wished she understood the language these creatures used but she could tell the man was terribly upset. Then suddenly there was a great noise.

A large crowd appeared. Kalanit could see the fire they carried, could see it shining on metal weapons. They sounded angry. She ran high up the tree just to be safe. The crowd took the man away. His friends stayed behind, they looked afraid. Kalanit wanted to follow the man. She liked being near him. He looked like a safe two-legged creature, one who would like squirrels. But they were going into the city. That was not a safe place for squirrels, even one as curious as Kalanit. So she found a tree near the city gate and waited.

The next morning Kalanit woke to another crowd coming out of the city. The man was there. But he looked terrible. He was bleeding. He looked defeated. There was a sadness about him. Kalanit jumped from tree to tree following the crowd. She just had to learn more about his man. She knew there was something special about him, something about him that made her think of old stories.

When Kalanit was young her mother told her about the Great Creator. The Great Creator, her mother had said, gave life to all the trees, and the squirrels, and the other creatures. You could know the Great Creator personally and you could tell when the Creator was present. You could feel the love of the Great Creator and know that things would be alright. When Kalanit looked at the man, even battered and bloody as he was, she felt the presence of the Great Creator. She had to follow him and learn more.

The crowd led her to a hill. There were no trees on the hill. It was not safe for a squirrel up in the open like that. But now Kalanit did not care, she had to get closer. So she skittered up among the crowd of feet until she was right near the front. There were two-legged creatures from far away up there. They had harsh voices and different colouring. They wore coverings that reflected the sunlight. Kalanit had noticed that the strangers made the people from around the city nervous.

The men with strange voices were taking the man, the special man, the one who reminded Kalanit of the Great Creator, and putting him on something. Then they raised up a strange looking tree. It was tall and straight with only two branches on it. The man’s arms were attached to the branches. Most of the two-legged creatures standing around the tree were laughing. But there were a few women off to one side who were not. They looked up at the man and Kalanit saw tears streaming down their faces. She went to stand with them. Something about them told her they were friends of the man on the tree.

Kalanit stayed there all day. She watched as the man on the tree died. She saw the men with the shiny coverings take him off the tree and give him to a small group of people. She followed those people into a garden, watched them place the man in a hole in the rock, and then leave him there. Kalanit could not believe it. How could that special man, the one who gave her that sense that all would be alright, the one who reminded her of the Great Creator, be dead? Kalanit rummaged around on the ground for some food, then climbed up a nearby tree to sleep for the night.

Early the next morning Kalanit was woken up by the sounds of tears. The three women with who she had stood on the hill beside that strange tree were in the garden again. Looking over where the man had been put Kalanit saw that the hole was open again. The women went over to the hole. A strange being came out. It looked like a male two-legged creature but different somehow. It shone. Kalanit had a sense of power, a sense of the Great Creator as he spoke. To her surprise she understood the words. Was he speaking the language of squirrels? Surely not, the women seemed to understand him too. Maybe he spoke a language that every creature could understand?

The man said that Jesus of Nazareth wasn’t there anymore, that he was raised. The women ran away, their faces a mixture of joy and fear and amazement. After they were gone Kalanit slipped down to the hole in the rock. She went in. It was empty. She came out and the strange shining being was there again. He sat down on the ground and let Kalanit climb onto his legs. They sat there for hours and the being told Kalanit all about this man named Jesus and about the Great Creator. The being told Kalanit about the importance of loving everything made by the Great Creator. Jesus, the being said, was raised by the Great Creator and because of that life would always be stronger than death.

After that day Kalanit was different. She was still a curious squirrel, always trying to learn new things. But she also had a new sense of how the Great Creator was with her all the time. She told the other animals about the man, Jesus. Some of them listened. Some of them laughed at her. Some of them thought she was strange. Kalanit didn’t care. She was happy. The Great Creator was with her. Life was good.

For the Easter Week Newspaper

Living in Saturday Time

Normally this weekend is a time of full churches and triumphant songs and celebrations. This year our buildings will sit empty and quiet, with the Alleluias shared in the comfort of our homes. Assuming, of course, that we find a place for Alleluia in the midst of our anxiety and grief.

What does it mean to proclaim the Good News in the middle of a global pandemic and economic turmoil?

This year the high point of the Christian Year comes at a time of great anxiety. This year the story of Life defeating Death comes at a time where people are grieving many things. We are grieving the loss of things we used to take for granted: going for coffee with friends, a restaurant meal, going to the gym, any social gathering at all. We may be doing some anticipatory grief for things that may never come back, for businesses that may not reopen, for changes that may turn out to be permanent. Some of us know people who have been diagnosed with Covid-19, some of us may know people who will not survive the disease. And we have the unknown length of time. Will this last till Victoria Day? Canada Day? Labour Day? Longer?

Add in the economic slump brought on both by the pandemic control measures and the crash of the global oil market and we have to wonder if we will have the same lifestyle that we had even a few months ago.

So much grief. Are we indeed walking through the valley of shadow right now? We could use some Gospel, some Good News in the world today. But we aren’t there yet. I think we are in the midst of Saturday Time (assuming we have indeed gotten past Good Friday). I think we will be in Saturday Time for a while yet.

Saturday Time is an awkward time. We are caught between the disaster of Good Friday and the triumphant words of Easter morning. Saturday is the day when we live with our grief, where we wonder what future there might be, where we just don’t know what will come next. In fact on Saturday we do not know for sure that Sunday will come. I find our culture does not do well with Saturday Time. We want to move quickly from the darkness of Good Friday to the triumph of Easter morning. We don’t like having to wait.

But we have to live in the Saturday Time. We have to allow ourselves to feel the grief and the uncertainty. Only then will we be ready for the surprise that comes next.

We are all, the whole globe, living on Saturday. We are all waiting. We may not not know what we are waiting for but we are waiting. So do what needs to be done on Saturday, that day between death and life, between disaster and triumph. Name your grief and sit with it. It is ok to be sad. Be honest about what makes you anxious or worried. It is ok to be a bit on edge. Be gentle with yourself and others. We are in the middle of a generation-shaping event. We don’t know what will be changed forever as a result. Some things will end. Some things will come back very much as they were before. Some things will come back in a new form. Life may never be the same again (or it might be very much the same, predicting the future is really hard).

But even in the midst of Saturday Time, with the grief and the anxiety and the uncertainty, we are people of hope. That is why we wait. We wait and we watch because we have hope that something will come. The promise of Easter is the promise of life and hope. Life will still win. What it looks like on the other side might surprise us. The Gospel accounts make it clear that Jesus’ closest friends were not expecting Easter. They were not expecting the world to be changed like it was. In the midst of their grief and fear some women went to a tomb on Sunday morning. They went to weep and mourn for the one they loved, for the world they had dreamed was coming. And then they had a shock. Jesus was not there, he had been raised. The darkness of Friday, the mourning of Saturday gave way to joy and wonder mixed with fear. What would happen now?

We will only get to New Life by living through this Saturday Time. But we remain people of hope. Life will still win. Christ is alive. The world will be changed, but Christ is Alive! God is with us! We are not alone! Alleluia!

Book 2 of 2020 --Days of Awe and Wonder

I have enjoyed reading Marcus Borg since I first met him in my first year of seminary. In our Christology class that year we read his Jesus: A New Vision. Since then I have read many of the books he has written by himself and ones he wrote together with John Dominic Crossan.

This volume, published after his death (the afterword is a Eulogy given at his funeral), is a collection of writings, sermons, and lectures from over Borg's career. Some of them felt familiar as I was reading them, only to find out at the end that they were familiar as they were from a book I have read previously. However that is not a problem. It is a gift to read those words again.

There are themes that run through the book, themes about who Jesus is, about what faith means, about what it means to follow the Way offered by Jesus. As one who likes and resonates with Borg's work I found it refreshing.

Book 1 of 2020 -- Short Stories By Jesus

Lately I have been fascinated (well maybe just more than usual as it is a recurrent theme in my brain) by the role of Storytelling in our lives. It is, I believe, through story that we open up some very deep questions. Which may be why I love the parables so much.

At any rate when I saw this book I just knew I had to read it.

In this volume Levine walks us through a number of well-known and well-loved parables. She talks about the ways they have been read in the Christian tradition. But more importantly she tries to help us see how they may first have been heard in Jesus' own time and place. In so doing she unmasks some flaws in traditional and modern interpretive choices. She helps us get a better picture of what 1st-Century Judaism may have been like. She helps us consider seriously where anti-Jewish rhetoric has embedded itself in our standard understandings of the parables.

This book does not make it easier to preach on these stories. Quite the contrary in fact. But that is how it should be isn't it?  After all it has long been said that if we believe we have the one right answer to what a parable means then we are oversimplifying it.  Parables should make us think and rethink. Familiarity may sometimes make that hard, this book pushes us to read them again for the first time.

Spirit Word for 2020

Extravagance!

During worship on January 12^th we were invited to draw a Spirit Word for the year, a word to reflect upon and ponder how it impacts our lives (or perhaps how it could do so). I drew the word EXTRAVAGANCE, which is now hanging with the calendar in my office.

Now what might that mean?

A few early thoughts...

How is God extravagant? As people of faith we proclaim the extravagant grace, love, and mercy of God. God gives prodigiously and extravagantly. Pondering the word calls me to think about where I have been the recipient of the extravagance. This leads me to reflect on how I am blessed. Hopefully it leads me to a place of deep gratitude.

How are others extravagant? Where do I see people giving prodigiously and extravagantly to me and to others? This is one of the places I see God’s extravagance in action. Hopefully looking for this pushes me to not only recognize it happening but comment on it. Again a practice of gratitude.

How am I extravagant? How could I be extravagant? A place of challenge perhaps, a place to push myself to be more generous, more merciful, more gracious. Maybe I do a better job of avoiding political debate on social media? Maybe I push myself to be more patient with my children? Maybe I find time to do different things this year?

There is another side to extravagance. I think of the show biz term of extravaganza. An extravaganza is showy, fabulous, over the top. Where do I see that sort of showiness in life? Where do I see the need for more of it? An extravaganza is often less than serious, sometimes even frivolous. Where do I see that we need to be more frivolous in the world? Something to watch for over the year. And then maybe something to help shape my choices.

Who knows what else pondering extravagance will bring me this year?

Book 14 of 2019 The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative

This is the 2nd book by Thomas King I have read in the last few years [here is the first].

It is interesting to read his books because up until 7 years ago the only way I knew anything about King was from listening to the Dead Dog Cafe on the radio. The books are not like the radio show. Well I guess there is a wry, dry humor in both.

I liked this book.  Much of what King had to say about the difference between being the Indian people look for and the Indian one actually is he covers in his later book The Inconvenient Indian however it is helpful information to see again.

I really liked the way King chooses to open each chapter with the same story, it gives a good continuity. Same with teh fact that the concluding paragraphs of each chapter are almost identical. Humans are peoples of stories. In our rationalistic scientific Western World we seem to have forgotten that. Well we think we have. I have noticed that it is story that helps us understand our rational scientific lives more than theories and proofs.

The best part of the book is the Afterword, that is where King pushes us to consider what might happen if we told ourselves a different story than the one we currently tell. Stories  are powerful. And, as King often reminds us, they are really all we have.

Book 13 of 2019 -- Two Gentlemen of Verona

Because sometimes you need a change of pace. And when you have a complete Shakespeare collection on your Kobo why not use that as the change of pace.

Once again I was reminded that the best way to read Shakespeare is out loud (so really not a "read in the coffee shop" endeavor, more of a "read in the bath tub" piece.

I had never read Two Gentlemen... before, well at least not the Shakespeare version.  30+ years ago I was in a musical adaptation of it that was...odd. Then again the story itself is kind of odd.

Nevertheless I think that reading a classic is always a good option.

Book 12 of 2019 -- Dare to Lead

Over the years I had heard many good things about Brene Brown. I had also been wanting to do some leadership development reading.  So I thought Dare to Lead would be a good choice -- particularly because I rarely think of myself as one who dares much.

I am tempted to order the workbook that accompanies the book and use it on a re-read. At the very least it is a book I think I will re-read in the future. It was challenging, in a good way. To put some of what Brown suggests into practice would stretch my comfort zones-- again this is not necessarily a bad thing. However I think that to provide leadership in a church that is in need of finding new ways to be church I need to push myself -- so that I can encourage others to push themselves.

Jealousy and Anger and Fear... OH MY

I keep remembering the old saying about the "ancient Chinese curse" May you live in interesting times.  We are certainly living in interesting times....

In Alberta for the last couple of years there has been an immense amount of anger. It has been focussed in a few different places (more on that shortly). But I have been wondering what is driving the anger and what is causing the specific focal points for it.

I have long believed that anger is more of a secondary emotion. It grows out of something else. And I see the current anger in Alberta growing out of at least three other things. The big one is FEAR. Next up is PAIN. The next one is JEALOUSY. 

People are angry in Alberta because the economy is not booming. It has not been booming for several years now. And the nature of our system tends to mean that if an economy is not booming and growing it is struggling and shrinking. For some reason "holding its own" is never an option. [One of the talking points is that our economy is held up by lack of access (no new pipelines). But no access has been removed either, we can still ship as much oil as we could 6 years ago, albeit at a much lower price than 6 years ago. Why does lack of growth have to mean shrinking?] And so people lose income, either by reduced hours or losing their job completely. And so people are hurting. It is well-established that when we hurt we seek to lash out at the person(s)/system(s) we think is to blame.

So people are angry because they have been hurt. And in their wounded state they have had a number of people tell them who is at fault for their pain: the federal government, environmental activists (especially foreign funders of same), other provinces, those living off the public dime (either recipients of support or public sector workers). Which has had the effect of making people angry at those things rather than others who are possibly more to blame -- the large corporations who continue to make profits, the changing global energy industry, the provincial governments of the last several decades. So that is one facet of the anger. But there is more.

Alberta has ridden the tides of an uncertain resource sector before (and seems to have learned very little from it). The anger seems stronger, louder now. This, I think is where the fear comes in.  Many of us have been suggesting that this will not be like other cycles because the big boom will not come back like it has before. Others have been refusing to admit that this is a possibility. I think there is a very real fear that the big boom will not come back and we have no plan for something to replace it. There is fear that new pipelines either will not get completed and opened or that if the pipelines [which for years we have been told will bring back the golden goose] do come on stream the boom still will not come back [personally I more than half-believe this is why Kinder-Morgan cancelled the Trans-Mountain pipeline which the federal government (who we are told does not support the industry) the bought to try and keep it on track -- they no longer believed they would make the money they wanted off the project.] And when people are afraid they get angry at the very thing they are afraid of.

A lot of what I have heard over the last few years, from a variety of sources, has had fear in it. Some have tried to quell the fear. Some have tried to ramp it up and focus it into anger at "them". Some have tried to say there is nothing to fear, that the boom will still come back like it always has. Still the fear is out there. I think it is justified. I think people are afraid of losing their livelihoods, that people are afraid of us not being what we were. I also think they may have reason to be afraid. I do hope that we find a better way of meeting those fears than we have thus far.

I have a sense that most commentators and analysts will agree thus far. Theses are obvious sources of anger. But recently (as i the last few weeks and months I have seen something uglier growing. Jealousy.

Alberta is jealous of other provinces, most especially Quebec. This has been true for a long time. Alberta is jealous of Quebec's special status -- not because they believe Quebec should not have it but because they don't. Alberta is jealous that other provinces (and especially Quebec) get more in transfer payments under the federal equalization program. Alberta is jealous that Alberta is not seen as the best province in the country. Alberta is mad that Alberta does not get special treatment because of its economic contributions to the country. This, I think, is a large part of what has fed a long-term feeling of Western alienation (long term as in most of the province's history) and the occasional popping up of separatist movements (WCC when I was younger, Wexit now). It is also a jealousy that was once harnessed by Preston Manning' Reform Party and is now being harnessed by Premier Kenney's "Fair Deal" campaign (though I have yet to see what exactly he thinks "fair deal" means -- I hunch it means Alberta gets what Alberta wants). Federalism is a challenge in a country as big and diverse as Canada. And as a person whose preferred model of federalism is a much stronger central government I often find myself out of step with much of the country. But jealousy of what others have, or what we think they have, or what we think they should not have, does not help.

There is another piece of jealousy I am seeing, one that is more concerning to my heart. It is not a new think but in times where we are told we need economic restraint it is very divisive.  Jealousy of other Albertans. Jealousy because some have union contracts to protect them when others did not. Jealousy that some have jobs and others have lost theirs. I sense a lot of this in the ongoing debate around who has it better -- public sector or private sector workers. Right now, as we live into a provincial budget that some of us see as a disaster in the making (others see it as a much needed corrective) this jealousy is getting played out full force. And it makes people angry -- on both sides. It creates a "with us or against us" sensation. It gets in the way of having real discussions about what the best way forward is.

[For the record I believe firmly that the best way forward for Alberta's budget is to take a hard look at our revenue problem which is to blame for where we are. I have these dreams of what could have happened if 40 years ago we had not fallen victime to the myth of high services on low taxes]

But right now the fear and the jealousy and the anger are driving what passes for debate in this province. And it is getting us nowhere fast. Many of us have strong opinions on where to go next. Many of us have trouble allowing the opposite point of view speak to our hearts and minds. All of us go around trying to find data to back up our point of view -- which always reminds me of the quote usually ascribed to Mark Twain There are 3 types of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics. We have to find a better way. Jealousy and fear and anger, being used the way they are currently, will only poison the well.

Luckily I am, in theory at least, a person of hope rather than despair, of love rather than fear, of common good over individualism -- some days better than others.

Miriam's Christmas

This was first written in 2005 but somehow had never been posted here -- as I discovered this morning

The wind gusted, sending the fresh snow swirling around the lamp post. Miriam shivered, pulling the thin coat tighter around her chest. “Gonna be a cold one tonight,” she muttered, squinting through the darkness.

A little further down the block was the big old church. Miriam remembered going there as a child, remembered the beautiful stained glass windows. Suddenly a friendly voice boomed in her ear. “Merry Christmas! Please come and join us for worship!”

Miriam looked around, wondering who the cheerful man was talking to. Surely it couldn’t be her. Christmas Eve was a special service, someone wearing an old coat and wrapped in a hand-me-down blanket didn’t fit in with the fancy dresses and bright lights. But there was nobody else around. “Ar-are you talking to m-m-me?” she asked.

“Of course my dear,” the greeter replied. “Come in and warm up at least.” Miriam could hardly believe her ears; certainly a chance to get out of the wind was welcome. Gratefully she made her way up the old stone stairs and snuck into a pew way at the back of the sanctuary, just as the opening notes of the first hymn were being played.

As she listened to the familiar old carols Miriam couldn’t help remembering the Christmases of her childhood. Things were so much happier, so much simpler then. “What had gone wrong?” she muttered to herself. Then the pageant started. Watching Mary and Joseph get turned away from the inn Miriam felt her heart reach out to them. She knew what it meant to have nowhere to go.

After the service, Miriam started to wrap herself in the blanket again and sneak out without being seen. No luck. The greeter was right there beside her again. “Where will you sleep tonight?” he asked. Miriam said nothing, just looked away.

Finally she looked up, “I don’t know, there was no room at the shelter.”

“Well that will never do” the young man said. He paused for a moment then a smile came back to his face. “You will come to my parent’s house with me,” he said. The story we just heard reminds us that there should always be room at the inn somewhere.

It might have been a trick of the light and wind. But at that moment Miriam was sure that the greeter’s face was shining, just like the angel in the window behind her. And somewhere she heard voices singing “Hallelujah!”…