10:30 am, Sun, May 5, 2024 ~ FBCA

(1 John 5:1-6; John 15:9-17)

Our choice has been made - the work was done by the Search Committee - the applicant for this one year term has been accepted, and Marlene has just begun her ministry with us in her new role. Her assistance to our work of Christian Education, to Me, and to all of us will be such a good thing.

I heard this funny old love song on the radio the other day.

I'll be wonderful, do just what I'm told

I'll do anything for you, I'm your puppet, I'm your puppet

Just pull them little strings and

I'll sing you a song, I'm your puppet

This is not going to be our theme song with Marlene Quinn. No! Pastors sometimes can feel like a puppet on a string - or with one hundred strings, pulling in all directions - but this is going too far.

Now, both our scriptures today are speaking of love and obedience, yes. John’s Gospel says if you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love. And the First Letter of John says the love of God is this, that we obey His commands. We know this is not saying, ‘be a puppet on My string.’ But it is getting at the real love that wants to do what the other desires and plans. Giving up one’s life for one’s friends is the greatest love.

Like any of us, Marlene has sought wisdom beyond herself to figure out what to do with her life this year. And she has sensed some answers have come from God - often heard in the voices of people around her: some of you. The six of us on the Search Committee have met many times, and we made this commitment to the team: “I agree to pray daily for each committee member and for the work of the church.”

This is all about how to love one another. It is easy, and sometimes profound, to agree that, of course, we are to love God and love one another. The real work, the real decisions, are how to love one another. What action, what choice, what words are loving at this moment? And the next? And tomorrow? It is a beautiful thing for a congregation of Christians to find in their number a person to take on a special ministry job. Now the real work begins, to plan and work together with Marlene, get to know and care for one another, and appreciate what we each can do for the Body, the Church.

For many years I have loved to read the 1967 novella, I Heard the Owl Call My Name, by Margeret Craven. It tells the story of a young Anglican priest who is sent by his Bishop to a ministry in an isolated First Nations village in British Columbia.

It is no ‘spoiler alert’ to tell you this; these are the first sentences of the novel: The doctor said to the Bishop, ‘So you see, my Lord, your young ordinand can live no more than three years and doesn’t know it. Will you tell him, and what will you do with him?’

The Bishop does not tell the young priest, Mark, but sends him on his way to the isolated village. On arrival, he finds there has been a tragic death, and with the police he deals with it and prepares for his first burial in his new community.

In one of the best houses in the village Mrs Hudson, the matriarch, was pleased that a vicar was again in residence. The Bishop would surely come more frequently, perhaps even with a boatload of landlubber clergy to be fed and housed, and the young wives would gather her in her house to defer to her judgment, speaking softly in Kwákwala.

‘What meat shall we have?’

‘Roast beef.’ Or salmon. Or wild goose. Or duck.

‘And what vegetable shall we have?’ Mrs Hudson’s answer was always the same, & her small revenge on the white man, the intruder.

‘Mashed turnips.’ No white man likes mashed turnips.

The story carries on, telling of all the times of the community facing other deaths and tragedies, times of fishing and celebration, times of storytelling, times out on the land and the water, times of white and indigenous being different, and the same.

Mark works closely with some in the community. He travels to other little communities by boat to patrol - have services there, give pastoral care. He holds the hands of people as they die; then he offers the final commendations and prayers. Mark patches up the decaying little vicarage where he lives. He helps them plan and prepare a new burial ground for the ancestors of the community. He struggles with the native names of the villages and people.

Mark goes along on a bear hunt, and after tracking it for hours, it appears behind them, and is shot. ‘I thought we were following the bear,’ Mark said to Jim.

‘We were until he circled. He’s been following us for an hour.’

‘But there’s no bullet hole. ‘

‘It is hidden by the fur and the folds of fat,’ and Mark saw the laughter rise and hold in all the dark eyes.

‘This bear did not die of a bullet,’ one of the Indians told him gravely. ‘He died of shock. It’s the first time he’s ever seen a vicar so far up on the mountain.’

Mark also gets to see the swimmer, the salmon, and the end of the swimmer, where they spawn, and die, and new life begins.

Of course, the novella ends with the death of the young rector, Mark. And all the preparations for funeral and mourning and burial, for visitors who will come to the community.

In the house of Mrs Hudson the young matrons said to her in Kwákwala, ‘There will be many guests. What meat shall we prepare for them?’

‘Roast beef.’

‘And how much?’

‘One hundred and fifty pounds.’

And what vegetable?’

‘Carrots,’ and tears trickled down the cheeks of the matriarch. ‘He never liked mashed turnips and I made him eat them. I am a stubborn old woman who wants her own way.’ And the young matrons moved closer to her like chicks to an old hen. ‘Oh, no - no - no.’

This novel always moves me to tears when I read it. For it is true, true to life. Our lives, together, in Christ. With all our roles in Church and community and families, we learn love. We learn to submit to others. We learn to obey when it is good to obey. We learn to lead when we must lead and follow when it is time to follow.

We learn that we have all been chosen. Chosen for such a time as this. Chosen for love in action and in attitude. Chosen to belong - for we have been chosen by God. We are the beloved ones of God. And we must show all the others they are also beloved by God.

Jesus said to those first apostles, whom He called ‘friends,’ “You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.”