Almost 150 years ago the great German statesman Otto von Bismarck said that “politics is the art of the possible.” Given the daily dose of politics that we're getting in our country right now, I don't propose to spend much time reflecting on Bismarck's words tonight. But those words did help me to frame some thoughts that I want to share with you tonight. I don't stand here and make the assumption that my twist on these words will lead to me being mentioned 150 years from now as I've just mentioned Bismarck, but I want to suggest to you that if politics is the art of the possible, then faith and ministry could easily be defined as the art of the impossible. In the Gospel reading just shared, Jesus encountered a well to do man who had what in some ways was a simple request: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Implicit in the question, though, was an astonishing fact – astonishing to the disciples of Jesus; perhaps astonishing even to the man himself: this man seemed to have everything. He was wealthy and probably well respected by his community and most likely everyone thought that he had been blessed by God. Here, he comes to Jesus and confesses – perhaps in a moment of blinding self-realization as much as anything – that for all he seems to have, in reality he has nothing, because without the conviction and assurance that we are the blessed recipients of the love of God that leads to eternal life, what are we? And if faith and ministry are, in fact, the art of the impossible, here then is the impossible thing to which we are called as Christians – to convince a world around us which more and more seems to either believe that it has quite enough without God but that in fact lives in spiritual poverty or, even if it recognizes its spiritual poverty – to convince a world that doesn't believe that the church or the Christian faith have much to offer; that in Christ, is to be found the wellspring of eternal life.

    

     As I stand here this evening, I feel a little bit like one of the Old Testament prophets perhaps, called to a distant land to share a word from God with those of you who are gathered here. Lynn and Hannah and I are very pleased to have come from the foreign land of Niagara Presbytery, and I'm pleased to be able to share with my friend Brian and the members of this congregation and the folks from Hamilton Presbytery the words God has given me. I won't call them words of wisdom, because that's for you to decide, but I do believe that these are the words I'm called to speak here tonight. Our gathering here tonight marks a new type of relationship. It isn't a new relationship – you've all had time to get to know one another, but it is a new type of relationship. The modern world being what it is, the vast majority of couples whose marriages I perform have already lived together – often for many years – before getting married. Many people like to suggest that a “piece of paper” doesn't really make much of a difference. On those occasions when I have the opportunity to check in with such couples, I often hear that the piece of paper has made a difference. The marriage certificate represents a different level of commitment; it is the mark of the formal covenant. Perhaps the same is true of the Warrant to Covenant. In a sense, tonight's service is little more than a formal step in an already ongoing relationship, but it's more. Through this act we acknowledge that this is more than merely a transitional phase for those who are the parties to the covenant. By this act we're saying that this is the real thing; that the relationship to which we're committing is – if not for life - at least for the foreseeable future. I've heard it said that all ministers are interim ministers, but some are more interim than others. The piece of paper tells us that all who are part of this relationship want it to continue and have no questions about its worth.

    

     We - as people, as pastors and as presbyters – are together as a part of the family that God has called into being. Together we've been commissioned by our Lord Jesus Christ, and empowered by Holy Spirit to carry the good news of God's reconciling love to the whole world. The work of doing that is called “evangelism.” Yes. I dare mention it. That “E” word that we in so-called mainline Christianity often recoil from because of the negative stereotypes associated with it. We're all too familiar with those images of the huckster in a fancy suit carrying a big Bible and seeming to offer little but doom and gloom upon those who disagree with him. We call them “fundamentalists.” But there's also the opposite extreme that mainline Christianity often dares not speak of – and that's an equally narrow liberal fundamentalism to which we all sometimes succumb and which more often than not seems to empty the gospel of any real power to convict anyone of the need for God. Just a few days ago in the Toronto Star, columnist Heather Mallick asked in a bit of a throwaway line in a column that nevertheless caused me at least to do a lot of thinking whether the United Church was too polite to qualify as a real religion. Setting aside the point that the United Church is a church and not a religion, I think Mallick raises a valid point. We don't want to offend by making the gospel seem like a lead weight around the necks of the very people we're supposed to proclaim good news to, but we also don't want to water the good news down to the point at which it becomes little more than a feel good message with neither flavour nor impact. If we fall into either of those traps, then the mission that Jesus gave us of sharing the good news inevitably goes unfulfilled. So at the inauguration of a new pastoral relationship, it is good for us to be reminded of what it is that we - whether ordained, commissioned or lay - are called to be about in this business of ministry.

    

     The account of Jesus' encounter with the wealthy young man in Mark's Gospel gives us a clue. We are to convince the world that all that they have and all that they are are to be poured out in service to God and in service to others. On the one hand, it's simple – in a few words, I explained it. On the other hand, it's hard – how do you convince anyone to do that? How do we convince even ourselves to do that? Even Jesus seemed to have failed in the task, as the rich young man walked away in seeming despair. Even the disciples seemed unable to grasp what Jesus was saying: “Who then can be saved?” was their response, apparently in a mixture of both wonder and despair. “Where's the hope?” seems to have been their feeling at this moment. The hope is always found in Jesus.

 

     At the heart of the faith we confess as United Church people and together with all of the holy catholic church, stands this itinerant rabbi named Yeshua, Whom we know as Jesus. He was conceived under highly questionable circumstances and born into the lowest class of society, the son – so tradition says – of a desperately poor teenaged mother, who had been promised (as was the custom) to a much older man. There was a covenanting service of sorts for the peasant teenager's baby, when on the eighth day after His birth He received the mark of that covenant. He then grew in wisdom and in stature; He asked a lot of searching questions; He astounded the scholars of the day and eventually He became such a serious threat to the religious authorities that they plotted to have him killed – executed by the Roman Empire they hated so much. In Him – this man Who on the surface seemed to have so many obstacles to overcome and challenges to confront – we find the hope that our ministries can have an impact on the world, or, at least, on our small part of it. We stand tonight at the thresh-hold of the greatest moment of the Christian calendar, just as Jesus did when He encountered the rich young man. By the next chapter of Mark's Gospel, Jesus was making His entry into Jerusalem, being hailed by the crowds as the Messiah only to be contemptuously rejected mere days later but then confirmed with power to be the Son of God by His resurrection from the dead. And over the next two weeks you and I and all of us here today will re-enact those days in Jesus' life, and we will do so in Jesus' presence, because the Lord Who died lives again and empowers our ministries. Paul, in 1 Corinthians, wrote that “if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith.” That's a perhaps overly utilitarian view of ministry. I'd like to think that the ministry we share together is more than just useful – I'd like to think that it's powerful. I'd like to think that it carries with it possibilities that are perhaps undreamed of.

 

     Our Gospel reading doesn't actually tell us what happened to the rich young man. Did he find the secret of eternal life that he was looking for. Jesus, I think, explained it to him rather well. “... sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.” I wonder, though, if we might not take those words too literally, because I suspect that what Jesus was really saying was that those who follow Him – whether or not they're rich – of necessity have to be willing to give up everything, to give of themselves and their very being for the sake of the gospel and for the sake of sharing good news with the world. I'd like to think that the rich young man came to understand this; that perhaps he followed Jesus into Jerusalem and saw – on the cross not too many days later – what Jesus meant by selling “everything you have.” It's not the material possessions – it's the giving of the self for the sake of the other. If we can do that the possibilities are literally endless, as we encounter all those who so desperately search for something – and they may not even know what they're searching for, but we do! They're searching for an encounter with the risen Christ Who comes with power to change lives. Mediating that encounter is our ministry. It's not my ministry, or Brian's, or this congregation's, or this Presbytery's – it's ours, because we dare to call ourselves disciples of Jesus who tells us that “all things are possible with God” - even eternal life popping up in the most unexpected of places.

 

     God in Jesus Christ has called my friend and colleague and brother in Christ, the Rev. Brian Howell, to be your pastor and to share with all of you in a servant ministry here at the Japanese United Church of Hamilton and in the mission field beyond those doors. You, as members of this congregation and of the Hamilton Presbytery are about to confirm God's call and covenant together with him and with God in that shared ministry. Brian, my friend and brother, fulfill your ministry in the power of the Holy Spirit. Love and tend and equip the flock of God here as you have for so many in the various places in which you've made a difference – including, may I say, Port Colborne. Japanese United Church - fulfill your various ministries. Share with Brian the gifts God has given you and work with him for the sake of the gospel. Members of Hamilton Presbytery, fulfill your ministry of care and discipline and oversight for both Brian and this church. May the Holy Spirit empower you and fill you with an infectious joy as you respond to God's invitation to enter into covenant with Him. May the Holy Spirit lead you together into the possibilities that lie before you.