St. Paul’s United
Church Sunday, October
3, 2010
Season of
Creation 3 – World Wide Communion
God of
the Cosmos – Rev.
David Mundy
Psalm
19 Proverbs 8:22-31 John 6: 41-51
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Do you know
what a Harvest Moon is? I have no idea how many amateur astronomers there are
in this congregation, but no doubt a number of you can figure out that a
harvest moon is a moon visible during the time of the harvest, which is right
about now. So far so good! Do you know why this moon was important enough to
get a special name? In the days before farm machinery came equipped with lights
that could illuminate a football field the moon came in handy for extending
those feverishly long working days of the harvest season.
Do you know
when the Harvest Moon takes place this Fall? It has
already made its spectacular presence felt in the night sky. And this year it
wasn’t just a Harvest Moon. It was a Super Harvest Moon, so named because of
its rarity. Every twenty years or so the full moon is visible on the last
evening of Summer and the first morning of Fall. The
next Super Harvest Moon won’t grace the night sky until 2019.
And we get
an “if you call now we will include this bonus offer . . .” moment this
year. This Fall the planet Jupiter is closer to the Earth than it has been in
nearly sixty years and on September 22nd, the last day of summer, it
sat just below our moon. With a good set of binoculars the satellites, the
moons of Jupiter were visible beneath earth’s natural satellite.
Some of you
may be thinking “I did not know that!” and others are thinking “I did
not need to know that – why are hearing about astronomy in church?” You
have to admit, though, we don’t seem to have much time or inclination to stargaze
in our daily lives. When was the last time you paid close attention to the
night sky?
It’s strange
really because in the last 20 years or so astronomers have made some of the
most exciting discoveries about our distant celestial neighbours.
The astronomers have been finding planets in orbit around distant suns, in a
way feeling them with their remarkable telescopes rather than seeing them in a
conventional way. There was a headline in April of this year about the
discovery of nine new planets circling stars that are “only” 1000 light years
away.
I don’t
really understand much of this, do you?
When I hear “light year” I always think of that line from the movie
Roxanne that a light year is like a regular year, only less filling. Still I am
in awe of the possibilities of space, which is really not space at all, but
universe upon universe of wonders. You
see, “the heavens declare the glory of God.”
This morning
is our third and final Sunday in the brief Season of Creation we are observing
this year. We began with an Oceans Sunday, and last week it was Storms. This
week it is Cosmos Sunday, which might have been called Heavens Above Sunday but
then we could have confused it with Heaven Sunday, which is a whole different
story.
The psalm we
repeated together begins with a declaration that what we see above us, when we
are willing to look, speaks to us. The psalmist acknowledges that the stars don’t
actually say anything to us in words, but they are eloquent in singing God’s
praise.
And he uses
several very active metaphors of a choir singing an anthem, and an athlete
training on the track, and a groom who is eager to get away from the reception
hall after the wedding to . . . well this is a family show, so we’ll leave
that to our imaginations. Rather than being cold and distant the heavens are
alive with activity beyond our ken. It brings to mind the painting Starry
Night by Vincent Van Gogh with its swirling, churning energy. And there is
a sense here that we are meant to be very impressed by what we see above us,
that if we just pay attention it will put us in touch with God who brought all
things into being, even the sun and the moon and the distant stars.
So what does
it mean to be a Cosmic Christian? Back
in the sixties people used to say things such as “Whoa, that’s, like, cosmic
man“ and it
wasn’t a joke! It sure sounds goofy now, but back then it was intended to be a
serious statement about the expansive, mind-blowing implications of something.
To be a
Cosmic Christian is to ask who we are and what our role is in that bigger
picture of our existence and the universe itself. One of our sins, our
shortcomings as human beings is to act as though we are the centre of the
universe, to live without much care for anyone or anything other than
ourselves. We seem have trouble paying noticing our neighbours,
or the health of the planet, let alone galaxies that we may never be able to
reach.
Yet it may
be vitally important to put ourselves in this much greater context for the
health of our planet home and for the sake of our souls. Late this past summer,
we visited friends who live about an hour and a half north of Kingston, not far
from the site for a new “dark sky” preserve and an observatory. As you can imagine,
it was chosen because there is so little of the light pollution which makes it
so difficult for most of us living in Southern Ontario to get much of a sense
of the night sky
We sat out
one evening and got sore necks from staring up at the swath of the Milky Way
stretching from horizon to horizon, trying to figure out “what was what” in the
night sky. The fellow in this couple commented that they tend to take that sky
for granted living out there, but there is something quite amazing about that
feeling of being insignificant.
Another psalm, psalm 8 begins
O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens.When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?
It is as though the psalmist is
saying, “God I have no idea what you see in ‘lil ol’ me, but I’m glad you love me!”
There are times, perhaps far too
often, when we live as though our scurrying around madly in our daily
activities is more important than anything else, when in fact it is a miracle
that we matter at all, and that we are known and loved by God.
So what can the heavens above mean
for us in our relationships with God?
Perhaps our starting place is a
healthy dose of awe and wonder, a deep appreciation of the sheer majesty of the
heavens above. After last week’s sermon someone sent me a cartoon by Christian humourist Cuyler Black who was
here with us last year for our anniversary. Two creatures are standing under
the night sky, one is admiring the stars above while the other is texting on a
cell phone. The one looking up invite the other to stop and appreciate, to ooh
and aah -- as the texter aahs his way off a cliff. It is a playful invitation to
wonder at the expanse of the heavens which are God’s creation as surely as this
planet is God’s creation.
Then we can marvel that our tiny
little planet is able to sustain such a rich diversity of life, a miracle in
itself. A few days ago we heard that astronomers have discovered yet another
planet, what they are calling a “Goldilocks planet,” because it is not
too hot and not too cold for the existence of life, even though that life might
be nothing more than single-celled organisms. When we stop to ponder our
remarkable existence in the cosmos, that we are already a Goldilocks planet, we
might do a better job of taking care of what is around us as a gift from God.
And about that
God. In Thornton Wilder’s play Our Town one
of the characters named Jane gets a letter from a minister addressed in a
rather unusual way:
Jane Crofut; The Crofut
Farm;
Grover’s
Corners; Sutton County; New Hampshire;
United
States of America; North America; Western Hemisphere;
the Earth; the Solar System; the Universe;
the Mind of God.
Why don’t we turn that around and
begin with the mind of God who has created the universe and our solar system,
and our individual lives. This God actually knows us by name and cares for us.
Loves us enough to come to us in the person of Jesus who experiences everything
we experience, the joys and sorrows of life. Suffers the pain of the cross on
our behalf and invites us into new and eternal life.
There are lots of people who say
this is why they can’t take Christianity seriously. How could there be a God
who would bother to be so personal, so direct? Well, this is why I am a
Christian. It is so improbably wonderful, I am willing to take that leap of
faith and the invitation today is for each one of us to do this today, to enter
into and renew this relationship with a living Christ.
In today’s gospel passage Jesus
speaks mysteriously at the Last Supper, the meal we will celebrate together
today, about being the bread of heaven. He uses the bread which is made from
wheat and the wine made from grapes, both of which flourish under that star we
call the Sun, as symbols of his redeeming love. This Christ of the Universe,
the Cosmos, has come to each one of us, for each one of us.
Canadian
singer songwriter Bruce Cockburn wrote a wonderful song in his early, very
Christian days that celebrates God’s creation of the universe. I’ll leave you
with some of the words as a closing prayer:
Lord
of the starfields
Ancient of Days
Universe Maker
Here's a song in your praise
O love that fires the sun
Keep me burning.
Lord of the starfields
Sower of life,
Heaven and earth are
Full of your light.
It is cosmic man -- and woman. Thanks be to God!