Sermon Notes 19th March 2023
Desiree Snyman

Wake-up! Grow-up!

A man knocks on his son’s door: “Jaime wake up” he says. 

Jaime answers: “I don’t want to get up!” 

The father answers: “you have to get up and go to school!”

Jaime says: “I don’t want to go to school.”

“Why not?” asks the father.

Jaime says, “I’ll give you 3 reasons why I won’t go to school.

1.    It’s dull. 

2.    The kids tease me. 

3.    The teachers pick on me.”

The father says “Wake-up! Grow-up! I am going to give you three reasons why you must go to school.

1.    It’s your duty. 

2.    You are 45 years old. 

3.    You are the headmaster.”

The art of prayer, spirituality and authentic religion is waking up. We are invited to wake up to reality. In Ephesians the writer says, “Sleepers awake!” Some describe the journey of spiritual growth as “waking up!” I see in the text for today a map that landscapes our soul’s journey to spiritual maturity that we may use as a guide to growing-up in God. May it inspire us to dive deeper into God. 

The scriptures says that as Jesus walked along, they came across a man blind from birth. The disciples ask: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents? Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents.” 

This is a religious question and Jesus wants them to wake up from religion!

The disciples are operating according to the equation that if there is suffering there must be sin.

Jesus breaks this equation. 

Jesus breaks that religious belief. 

The equation of suffering = sin only survives if God is the Great and Angry Judge in the Great Somewhere in The Great Out There. Growing up spiritually means learning to see God differently and experience God within. 

One task is to explore different images of God. 

The image of God as almighty father is used only 12 times in Scripture, yet it remains a dominant image in church liturgy. Why? Why is it that people are so offended at other images for God? All it is, is an image. Perhaps we can gently suggest that sometimes we are guilty of the sin of idolatry: that we worship the image of God and not God. The image may point the way to God – we need to look at the way it is pointing and not the image doing the pointing. The journey to spiritual maturity requires using more and more images for God until we use no images – the way of illuminated darkness described by the unknown English mystic in the Cloud of unknowing who says that between me, and God is this cloud of unknowing that only love can pierce.

The Scriptures say that: “When he (Jesus) had said this (broken free from religious equations), he spat on the ground and made mud with saliva and spread the mud over the man’s eyes.” Jesus is redoing Genesis; this is about being recreated. In Genesis 2 we read that God a pottery maker takes some mud and fashions humankind out of the mud. God then breathes into the mud creature, and it begins to live. Mud in the Hebrew language is adamah. And from the mud, the adamah, God creates adams, mud creatures, humans. We are all adams, mud creatures. God then breathes into us God’s breath. We are mud clods, mud creatures, adams. But we have also been breathed into by the God of the Universe. We are thus sacred, we are divine. We are sacred mud clods. We get it so right. We get it so wrong. The getting it right is the divine breath within us breathing out. The getting it wrong is mud clod in us stumbling in darkness.  

The anointing with mud also recalls 1 Samuel 16 where the prophet anoints David King and Psalm 23 (God anoints my head with oil). The man born blind is anointing as a king in the new creation. This is the journey of all of us, when we are Christs, when we are anointed with the mud of the lamb, we are anointed kings and queens of the new creation.”

The Scriptures then say: “Go and wash in the pools of Sent. Then he went and washed and came back and he could see.” What could he see, what could we see? Perhaps he could see his unity with God. Later in John’s Gospel we will hear Jesus explains: “I and the Father are one. I am in God. God is in me. I am in you, and you are in me.”

The boundaries between you and God are an illusion. They do not exist. That is what the blind man sees for the first time: that the divisions between him and God, within himself and between other people are an illusion. And then he says I am (the man). God says “I am” at the burning bush. Jesus also says “I am” at his arrest in John 18. Your I am and the I AM of God and the I am of other people coincide. I AM is a literary feature of John’s Gospel, it implies being. In John 18 when Peter is asked if he is one of Jesus’ followers, he denies Jesus saying, “I am not the man”. In orders Peter’s non-being is contrasted with the being of the man born blind who says “I am the man.” The baptism, being able to see, knowing that your I am coincides with God’s I am: that is ultimate union, or “oneing” to use Julian of Norwich’s term. We are not saying that you are God. It is just that unity with God is so real and so strong that you don’t know where your you begins and where God ends. It is about becoming naked before the naked God, stripped away from our attachment to the ego. Catherine of Genoa, a famous mystic, went through the streets saying: “My deepest me is God!” Paul says it is no longer I that live but Christ who lives in me. It is total and utter unity with God – this is the adventure of spiritual maturity. 

In v21 the parents of the blind man say “he is of age”. This is the coming of age for each of us. Like Jesus, we are so filled with the presence of God that we become a source for that presence for other people. I love that the blind man washed in Sent. That is the message: that having been baptized in unity with God, we are of age, we are Sent as God-soaked men and women to drench the world with God’s healing presence. We no longer say prayers. We have become prayer. We call Christ the anointed one. If we allow the journey from darkness to sight, from immaturity to full maturity to take place, we become little Christs – anointed ones so filled with the presence of God that we become a source of that presence for others.

Sermon Notes 12th March 2023
Bruce Fleming

Can you remember those children’s puzzles where you had to identify 10 things wrong in the picture; the puppy only has three legs, there is no rope on the swing, a flower is growing out of the slippery slide? That is similar to the picture we get in this story of Jesus meeting the Samaritan woman at the well. Something seems out of place. Back then there were women’s spaces (kitchen, home) and men’s spaces, (fields, marketplace, town gate), and shared spaces, like the well. A factory in the 1950s was similar. Men are on the factory floor and women are in the typing pool or serving in the canteen. After work, men are in the pub and women in the kitchen at home. A shared space would be a restaurant for a family meal or a department store for shopping. Jesus is a Holy Leader - he has claimed the title Rabbi (a spiritual teacher to his people) - to bring them back to God and to bring God to them. But in this story, we find he is in a space with the wrong person at the wrong time.

1.     He should not be alone with a woman. The risk of gossip, impurity, temptation, and scandal for a Rabbi is too great. Similarly, in a #MeToo culture like ours, the workplace is fraught with sexual tensions and dangers. Jesus’ disciples certainly queried his behaviour (4:27)

2.     He is taking a drink from a Samaritan. Jews and Samaritans simply did not share food utensils, meals, or wells, let alone relationships. This racial and religious divide was centuries old and from the Jewish point of view, the Samaritans were in the wrong. As for Samaritan brigands, they saw Jewish travellers as fair game.

3.     The woman is out at midday. A trip to the well is an early morning, or late afternoon task, conducted with social equals along gender lines. This woman is engaged in social avoidance and probably everyone prefers it that way. She is spared their contempt and they any guilt by association with a promiscuous woman. It would get the tongues wagging if the local Anglican minister had too many evening meals around at the recent divorcees house! Apparently, they love discussing theology - yeah, right!

Riddles (4:1-15)

After a genuine request for a drink, Jesus proceeds to talk to this woman in riddles, but his spiritual agenda is made clear early in the conversation. That he offers his truth, wisdom and concern to someone in her social, emotional and spiritual condition is revealed early. Something about her life seems to cry out for some level of healing or transformation - a better reputation, better social options, a better future. Jesus knows how she can move towards those precious things.

The literal refreshing water in the well is a powerful signpost to the real spiritual nourishment that Jesus is offering. Water really is a wonder product. We cannot physically survive a week without it, yet it also refreshes and cleans our bodies. Jesus offers her a new life in which she might find the inner resources and courage to attain some personal, social, emotional, and relational happiness and security. God’s loving spirit of embrace and acceptance is ready to nudge her in this direction, but she remains her own worst enemy at present. She clings to lifeless; it will take you nowhere, ends predictably, everyone else could see it coming, things! But a daily personal spring of clean water - clarity, purpose, hope, strength, confidence, self-worth, forgiveness, a new start - is available where she stands. She certainly leaps at the offer of easy water. I’m in if you’re promising fewer trips to the well!

Disclosure (4:16-26)

But if we want the freshwater Jesus is talking about, we need to let go of the stagnant stuff we’ve been drinking. Jesus now reveals that he knows a little of her painfully dysfunctional intimate life. Is she promiscuous to excess? Is she vulnerable and exploited by a succession of male abusers? Has she given up on herself as deserving of a loving trustworthy partner? Is she as much sinned against as sinning? What past traumas prevent her from building and maintaining good relationships? Does she always choose dangerous men? Does she always make herself sexually available early in a relationship? We do not know the answers to these psychological questions, only the sense of social chaos that seems to enmesh her.

Some social norms, like marriage, are used as weapons by a “moral majority” to shame and exclude outsiders, and the church has not been innocent of such behaviour. Some social norms, like marriage, represent a tried and tested model over thousands of years and thousands of cultures in which people, and their children, seem to flourish within secure and committed relationships. Marriage fits both those descriptions. All she knows is that her life is not doing so well outside those cultural norms, and that Jesus knows she is not doing so well. This, she realises, required some extra-sensory insight from Jesus - he must be a prophet or holy man!

The talk takes a sideways twist at this point, and she starts to evade with some classic, “pop-theology” and religious criticism. Or is she perhaps really quite literate in philosophy and ethics and here, at last, is a man who will talk at this level with a woman? I think the probable reason is that then, as well as now, “Religion” can offer anyone a very easy “out” when it comes to dodging moral scrutiny!

“Well, of course, there are so many different paths,” she counters. “I guess you have the traditions you were brought up with…as do we,” she goes on. “I mean, we have this sacred mountain, Gerizim, and you have yours, Mt. Zion, so who’s to say?” She gives a rueful shrug. “After all, doesn’t everyone think they are right?” The implication is this: Where you come from, maybe I am on the wrong path, ‘cos hey, according to you Jews, us Samaritans never get it right, do we? But can anyone really be so sure?

This type of moral and religious relativism steers a conversation away from personal relevance and towards universal doubt and abstractions. It puts all the “godbotherers” in their place. You see, if no-one is right, then no-one is wrong either, and no-one is accountable, to anyone, for anything, so no-one should judge anything, or anyone either. It is a valid observation with a false conclusion, as Jesus demonstrates.

Of course, every single culture or government or religion or moral idea that has ever existed or been expressed in the history of human behaviour is different from…well…the ones that are different! There are many different ideas and opinions on faith and morals. There are many different answers given on a maths exam. There are various opinions and witnesses in a murder trial. But that doesn’t mean that one of the answers can’t be, or isn’t, the correct answer, or a better answer, or an answer that is closer to the truth. Of course, in the absence of verification or certainty, it is best to be gracious, humble and understanding. And if you are certain that you do know, it is still best to be gracious and humble and understanding. “Humble” and “Tolerant” and “Peaceful” and “Non-violent” are just some of the different moral opinions open to us. But if no-one can know which values are the true ones, well then, how do we know if “humble” and “tolerant” and “peaceful” and “non-violent” are better than revenge, or intolerance, or greed or genocide - also approved in some cultures. People using the relativism argument to shut down other people’s opinions invariably exempt their own opinion from it.

What does Jesus do with this lazy and sloppy argument? He acknowledges the partial truth nestled within it. “Yes,” Jesus agrees, “We could talk of who’s got the correct Holy Mountain, or the correct baptism rights, or the correct gospel, or the correct atonement theory, or the correct sacred book, but that won’t alter the main point - God offers new life, to all who desperately need that saving chance of moral transformation and hope. In the midst of personal shame, chaos and dysfunction, renewal is possible. There is a “better” in both senses of the word - we can “get better” as in “improve,” and we can “get better” as in “be healed”. God works effectively outside, or even despite, all our religious and moral systems, Jesus asserts.

God offers life and operates in terms of spirit and truth, and those who respond to God do so in the same terms. Squabbles over buildings, geography, intellectual knowledge and cultures obstructs this central truth about God. Not every belief system points equally in this same healthy direction. Gandhi and Isis State take you to different places. Some things will turn out to be wrong, harmful and destructive. Not every Mt.Gerizim that humans build a temple on produces living water. Some wells are contaminated. Some lakes are radioactive. Some belief systems, like relationships, are toxic. But within his Jewish spiritual tradition, (and Jesus is quite clear about this), there is a type of God, a type of saving, a type of healing, that is true. And it is that spirit that Jesus honours and serves, and it is that spirit that empowers Jesus and empowers change.

God’s spirit doesn’t require a particular mountain or cathedral, or language or prayer book to transform people. But that is not the same as saying that some vessels aren’t more faithful bearers or witnesses than others, or that nothing substantial is being offered, or that nothing is required by way of a response.

The woman tries one last hedging move. “Gee, maybe you’re right. Have you heard the rumours these days of some expected Messiah, a chosen one of God, who could probably answer just these kind of questions for us - and then we’d know for sure.”

“Yes”, says Jesus, “You’re talking to him.” And that is Jesus’ astonishing claim that he does know. That he is not confused. Or a construct of the early church. Or a construct of John the Evangelist. Jesus knows what is needed for us in order to flourish as humans in partnership with God and with each other. If only we would drink from his well.

The Response (4:27-42)

It’s great to read a story where we get to see Jesus dizzy with happiness, so encouraged is he by the Samaritan woman’s response. The travel, the setbacks, the arguments, the challenges, are all worth it today!

She excitedly re-engages with her community telling them everything that had happened at the well. Jesus had to stay on for another two days, such was the community interest in his message. His disciples were also encouraged by the newly made friends in such culturally hostile territory. The temples on the top of Mt. Zion and Mt. Gerizim, with all of their priests, had not been able to achieve, and perhaps never even wanted to achieve, what God’s spirit achieved that day in Samaria, reconciliation and harmony between broken people and different races.

Jesus is overjoyed and explains excitedly, “Usually, as the saying goes, one person sews and four months later you harvest. Even then, someone else might reap what you had sewn. But today, we proclaimed the message and we saw a positive response immediately! And that’s what nourishes me, to represent the healing work of God in the world. It’s been a great day!” And who would have thought that the first Samaritan evangelist would be a woman of ill repute!

Jesus’ message did indeed have its origins in the Jewish culture, but it is bigger than the Jews now! In chapter four of John, Jesus went from being, “you, a Jew”, to “sir", to “prophet”, to “Messiah", to “Saviour of the World.” Now that’s progress! Later in John, Jesus says, “Heaven rejoices over one sinner who repents”, or to put it another way, God is stoked when one messed up person has their life turned around! And on this day, Jesus couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.

Lent II   5 March 2023 Year A

Dr Murray Harvey

I have here a map. A map of the University of Kent.

A helpful guide produced for the 650 Bishops and 300 spouses who attended the 2022 Lambeth Conference of Anglican Bishops at the University of Kent. A lovely campus on top of the hill overlooking the city of Canterbury.

I like navigating by a traditional, hard copy, paper map.

Finding my way around a large campus, set out in a circular pattern amidst parks and forests, a map was quite useful.

However, after about two or three days I still hadn’t managed to get my bearings. Unusual for me, especially when armed with a map. I wasn’t the only one – the campus was littered with lost bishops and their spouses, wandering aimlessly around in circles, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone, asking each other for directions. Often seen holding up the map and turning it round and round.

As one person was overheard to say, just when you think you’ve got your bearings, it’s as if all the buildings move about in the night, and so the next day you get lost all over again.

On about day 3 or 4 an announcement was made during the housekeeping notices one morning: To avoid getting lost, please use your map. And oh, by the way, for your convenience, only the buildings and pathways that you need to know about are marked on the map. If there’s a building that we’re not using for the conference – it’s not on the map, and if there’s a road or path you don’t need to go down, it’s not indicated on the map either.

Fold up the map and put it away. Navigate by what you can see around you, because the map isn’t as useful as it was intended to be.

We are journeying through this season of Lent.

Lent is a kind of map that the church has given us for our spiritual journey.

But of course, our spiritual journey, while informed and resourced by the guideposts of the church year and liturgical celebrations, our spiritual journey is a pilgrimage which is different for each of us and an accurate map is a guide only.

We have to approach Lent with the eyes of faith for our spiritual journey. On the annual pilgrimage of Lent the Bible readings, prayers, music and liturgies nourish, guide and challenge us – as we walk with Jesus to Jerusalem; to his passion, death and resurrection.

Therefore, it’s not a journey that we undertake alone – it is a journey with Jesus – he is our companion and guide.

Nicodemus (as we read in today’s Gospel) was also on a journey and needed guidance:

·      He had already “made it” – as far as the society of his day was concerned.

·      He was a pharisee.

·      He was a leader in his community.

·      He had respect, a position of honour.

·      For many, he was a signpost, a guide, he knew the answers to the questions that people had; He was a man of knowledge.

But something Jesus had said or done had somehow changed him; he was now seeing things in a different light; now he had some questions of his own – questions he hadn’t had before; he was possibly seeing new signposts – but he wasn’t sure; and other more familiar signposts, he was seeing in a new light:

He says to Jesus …

No one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God…

How can anyone be born after having grown old?

Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?

How can these things be?

So he comes to Jesus for guidance

In Lent we open our hearts and lives to God’s guidance, growth and transformation.

Lent is a precious opportunity individually and communally to stop and reflect.

A time to look around us at the landscape of our lives and community:

To consider the opportunities and challenges

To be confronted by the fact that we haven’t arrived – that we are not yet what we are called to be.

To get our bearings from God through prayer and reflection.

You might say – well here we go again, we’ve been here before – Ash Wednesday – Lent Studies – Palm Sunday – Good Friday etc (replayed each year)

But if we’re honest the landscape is different every time. Those guideposts (liturgical and other) are the same and offer much wisdom – but I’m a different person than this time last year, as are you, because we’ve each been changed by the circumstances of our lives:

We’ve had yet another year of the pandemic

Floods

Maybe we’ve lost a loved one since last Lent or have faced some other major life change

Each Lent it’s like the University Campus I referred to earlier – it’s sort of familiar but it’s as if the buildings all move about in the night and we have to get our bearings afresh each new day.

In fact the buildings haven’t moved at all, it’s just that we’re looking at them in the light of a new day with different things on our mind.

Maybe God has begun to reveal something new to us this year – through our relationship with Jesus – or spoken to us in a new way – how will we respond and readjust?

Given the landscape of our lives right now, given where we are on our personal journey, what is God calling us to at this time?

What questions do we bring to Jesus today?

This is both a personal question and a communal one: as a church community, what is God calling us to now? What is our discernment of God’s call to us as a church community this Lent?

How does your personal journey and the gifts you have – intersect with the needs of the Alstonville Anglican community, the needs of the church right now?

By encouraging us to stop, reflect and think, Lent can help clarify where we are on our wider, ongoing journey and mission. The alternative reading for today was the Transfiguration – Jesus on the mountaintop with Peter, James and John. Like them we can’t stand still and build a tent here, we have to navigate onwards.

Our lives can be chaotic and unpredictable – as I said we are each a slightly different person now to the person we were this time last year because of the changing landscape of our lives – for which we don’t have an accurate map – where are we on our journey now and what is God calling us to be and to do?

In our discernment, what are the next steps?

Thankfully Jesus is on the journey too – and from the mountaintop of the Transfiguration we get a glimpse of his future glory.

Christ, whose insistent call disturbs our settled lives: give us discernment to hear your word, and generosity and grace to respond, so that your name may be glorified and your Kingdom prospered. Amen.    

Sermon Notes 26th February 2023
Desiree Snyman

Lent 1 Matthew 4

About the text

From a literary point of view, the scripture today is fairly easy to unpack. First, the temptations roughly correspond to and follow on from the Ash Wednesday readings through which the Spirit drove us into the wilderness of Lent. Lent is about fasting, prayer and almsgiving. The advice for keeping Lent is in Mathew 6: 

·      So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you…(almsgiving).

·      But whenever you pray, go into your room, and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret…(prayer for the sake of others).

·      Whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites …(fasting).

The temptations described in Matthew 4 for Lent 1 correspond to Matthew 6 for Ash Wednesday. The temptation to turn rocks into bread (Matthew 4) relates to fasting (Matthew 6). The temptation to test God is about whether your prayer is in service of others or your own ego. Owning the kingdoms of the world and their splendour is about accumulating wealth or releasing wealth to the poor, the stranger and widows and orphans, the real shareholders of our excess.

A second aspect of our literary analysis relates to the intention of Matthew. We already know that the writer of Matthew’s Gospel wanted to depict Jesus as the new Moses. The Gospel of Matthew is structured around this theme of Moses and draws obvious parallels between the life of Moses and the life of Jesus. Moses came from Egypt; Jesus came from Egypt. Moses went through the Red Sea, Jesus in his baptism goes through the Red Sea of the River Jordan. Legend has it that Moses wrote the Torah, the first five books of the Bible. Jesus the fulfillment of the Torah will preach the new Torah in five sermons that structure the whole Gospel from chapters 5 onwards.

Third, there are other literary illusions that the writer of our Gospel today may want us to consider. When Jesus had passed his wilderness exam suddenly angels came and waited on him. The presence of angels remind us of Elijah’s time in the wilderness. Elijah flees into the wilderness after Jezebel sets out to kill him. Hungry, tired, fearing for his life, totally alone, feeling like an utter failure, questioning the reality of God, Elijah is waited on by angels. The angels offer the best advice to anyone experiencing amygdala hijack when the prefrontal cortex has shut down any access to logic: eat something, drink something, have a nap. 

There seems little point in unpacking in detail the meaning of the three temptations Jesus faced as it is unlikely that any of us will ever be tempted to change stones into bread and none of us would be tempted to jump off a high building to test whether God’s angels will catch us. If we have those temptations we need a diagnosis, not a sermon. I want to talk about the wilderness and the tempter instead.  

Our story in the text

In my prayer I sit with Jesus in the wilderness. In my prayerful imagination I find the whole experience of being in the desert with Jesus utterly attractive. I feel rejuvenated in the wilderness. The air is fresh and silent. The silence itself is nourishing, as is the solitude. Although I have a deep, deep love for people, the depth of my love for people is sustained by being alone and the aloneness with Jesus in the wilderness sunrise is stunning. I feel closer to God; there is something about the rawness of undomesticated wilderness that rewilds my inner spirit and strips off the ways I have tamed divinity. My inner architecture is reconfigured by the architecture of creation. Awe at the unthinkable, unsayable God pulsating at the heart of all that is, is breathtaking. In this desert I sense solidarity with the trees, the vegetation, and the insects and it instils a delicious a sense of oneness with Universe.

The pleasure at being in the wilderness is coloured by my experiences of going on Retreat at Sediba, a silent retreat centre in the mountains outside Johannesburg South Africa, to which I regularly escaped. Like Jesus I feel drawn to the wilderness by the Spirit. Like Jesus I am confident of the reality of God’s love that calls me beloved. However, it is still the morning of the first few days of the retreat when the wilderness feels so attractive. It is usually on the evening of day four that the tempter arrives.

The wilderness that in the morning of the first day called out like a lover turns on you, betrays you. Sleep alludes you. Fears and terrors magnify. Mosquitoes the size of spitfires add to your torment and Lord have mercy, there are so many of them. The solitude that in the morning was nourishing has twisted into the ugly monster of loneliness. The silence that was so stunning has become so very, very, very, loud. Who knew silence could be so deafeningly loud. The darkness and the silence magnify the slightest sound: your heartbeat sounds like an ear-splitting thunderstorm; the gurgle of your digestive tract sounds like the threatening waters of a flood. All mystical thought has taken flight, as has any thought of Scripture. You wonder if your sanity will survive the night of sheer and utter terror. And, where, the hell, (word chosen deliberately), is God?

The scripture describes ‘ha satan’, an accuser, a tempter. Perhaps the accuser is a metaphor for that internal, infernal voice of doubt and criticism. But let me tell you something, at two in the morning, alone in the dark, after no sleep, those terrors and fears take on demonic, solid form. So I can be comfortable with the translation of “the tempter” as “the devil”. At my moments of greatest doubt and weakness the terror seems to have corporeal form. 

Why would I peel back my skin and share a short excerpt of my minute wilderness experience?  I unravelled like a cheap jumper on day 4, day 40 would destroy me. I suggest that the wilderness may be something we are all too familiar with, perhaps in different ways. In telling you my story of Matthew 4 I hope to remind you of your own desert experiences and that you are not alone in going through them. 

I described Sediba, a silent retreat centre in the mountains outside the city of Johannesburg. I once took a priest friend and colleague with me on retreat. We had breath training at 4 in the morning followed by silent meditation from 5-7am. When he didn’t rock up for meditation on the morning of the fifth day I went looking for him and found him on top of the concrete sealed reservoir where he had been facing his own terrors, all night. He told me hadn’t slept. I said nothing. I put a blanket around him and sat in silence next to him, not because I was holy and meditating, but because there is nothing one can say. While I empathise with his struggle, it was a comfort to me to know that I am not alone in hearing ‘demons’ ; others fight them too.  

This is why I told you my story of my experience of the scripture in Matthew 4. I hope to remind you of your own nights of terror. Wilderness spaces come in many shapes and sizes, as does the tempter. At some point we all sit for 40 days and 40 nights in the desert wasteland. St John describes the inner wasteland of loneliness, doubt, emptiness, and bone-numbing fatigue as a dark night of the senses or a dark night of the soul. What about the dark night of sheer and utter terror that threatens to shatter your sanity?

For some, the wilderness may be the loneliness of the work car park, after you have been fired and have endured the humiliation of packing up your desk and have been marched out the office building by security because that is ‘company policy’. For others it may be the recovery room in a hospital where you think you may never recover from yet another miscarriage. For others it is the deafness of the silence after a diagnosis from a doctor. For some people the wilderness is the sheer loneliness after the funeral of a much-loved spouse or the unending ache after divorce. 

Whatever shape our wilderness takes, and whatever voice the tempter has, the point is that the wasteland is an aspect of our spiritual journey which we cannot do without. Nor should we want to. There is no way around the desert, you can only go through it. While never pleasant, the desert frees us. The wilderness experiences strips us right down to our True Self that is and always was naked and one with the Divine. The God of our Sunday School teachers and the God of our preachers and parents dies. We rebuild our inner being on the foundation of our own faith. Our own faith is hard won through wrestling accusers, tempters, demons and even angels that kick us in the hip before blessing us and leaving us to limp out of the desert forever crippled, but richly blessed by the experience.

The desert sand also blasts our eyelids off so that we can no longer close them to the pain of the world. Our eyelids are ripped off by desert sand and our watering eyes look through the ordinariness of our society to diagnose the sickness that ordinariness masks. Any wilderness restores our authenticity, it prevents us from being too comfortable with the temptations we have habitually accepted and considered normal and ordinary.

Hannah Arendt’s book “Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil” offers a chilling, hyperbolic but true example of what happens when we refuse to go through the pain of the wilderness and attempt to go around it. Hannah’s interpretation of temptation is that:

Many Germans and many Nazis, probably an overwhelming majority of them, must have been tempted not to murder, not to rob, not to let their neighbours go off to their doom, and not to become accomplices in all these crimes by benefiting from them.

Hannah then concludes that the Germans had learnt to resist temptation. Hannah’s book shows us that we could become so comfortable in our day to day routines that we no longer question their very ordinariness, even when these ordinary processes automatise the wholescale murder of neighbours and friends.

Even Jesus’ invitation to be the Christ and to follow him are so well worn we no longer hear it and see it. However, our response to being in the wilderness defines our willingness to be truly God’s. May the Spirit who whispered your true name, “beloved of God”, who filled you then sent you into the desert, support you in your furnace of transformation. 

Sermon Notes 19th February 2023
Doug Bannerman

Exodus 24.12-18  Matthew 17.1-9

 And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun,
and his clothes became dazzling white. (Matthew 17.2)

I wonder if you can imagine what it would be like to truly experience the kind of relationships that exist within the Holy Trinity, the most succinct expression of which is “I and the Father are one” (John 10.30). A close parallel is a mutual state of being “in Love”. As Freud would have it, ego boundaries dissolve, and the couple can sit for hours on a riverbank on a balmy summer’s day without speaking a word, and they experience a blissful sense of communion, of one-ness.

Now, I have long wondered who, in reality, was transfigured. Was it Jesus? Was it Peter, James and John? Was it all of them?

In my mind, there is an issue of translation, and another issue to do with perception, the way we see things, our points of view, our perspectives, and our unconscious assumptions and biases, not the least of which is to think in dualistic terms – as if there is no other way of thinking or being. This is not, by the way a fault in our make-up. Human beings are born with brains hard wired to think in terms of black or white, good or bad, and so on. It provides a means of comparing this and that, an early learning mechanism.

But it means that the language meanings we learn and use are also dualistic. On the other hand, the mind-set of pretty well all the Wisdom traditions in the world is characterised by so-called unitive thinking and states of being.

The Wisdom traditions encompass both kinds of perception and being. In our mythology for example, the Garden of Eden is place of unity, non-duality, non-duality of male and female, non-duality of human and God, non-duality of good and evil. All is one, and duality cannot exist in the Garden. So, to eat the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil excludes the man and the woman from that unitive state of being in which they were one. But that is not the whole story; there is another tree in the garden, the tree of immortal life (Genesis 2.9), and the Christ figure on the second tree in the Garden is the fruit of the tree of immortal life, when you know that “I and the Father are one”.

As Joseph Campbell succinctly put it, “You have to have a balance between death and life, the two aspects of the same thing which is being-becoming”.[1]

The Lady Julian of Norwich knew this as a fundamental truth. In her Revelations of Divine Love, she wrote “The soul is preciously knitted to Him [Jesus] in its making by a knot so subtle and so mighty that it is oned with God. In this oneing, it is endlessly holy.”[2]

Matthew tells us that Jesus’ face “shone like the sun”, which seems to be an echo of the second time Moses come down Mount Sinai carrying the “Ten Better Ways” (Exodus 34.29). That account says that Moses’ face was shining; but the Hebrew word thus translated is קָרַן qaran (kaw-ran'), meaning to send out rays. Perhaps Matthew’s expression “his face shone like the sun” is coloured by his knowledge of the Book of Exodus?

All this leads me to think that it was Peter, James and John who were transfigured to a brief state of unitive thinking and being, which enabled them to perceive the reality of Jesus’ being, what Campbell called “being-becoming” and the Lady Julian called “oneing”. And I am willing to bet that Jesus had been teaching them how to meditate according to one of the contemplative practices of his day. What else would they be doing up in a mountain – playing tiddlywinks?

The Wisdom traditions of all the major religions aspire to a unitive state of being. Unfortunately, the Christian Wisdom tradition was all but snuffed out in the third century when our canon of scripture was effectively set in concrete. In essence contemporaneous Wisdom writings were deemed to be heretical.

Nevertheless, the spirit of Wisdom writing was preserved by divines like Lady Julian of Norwich, the unknown author of The Cloud of Unknowing, Hildegarde of Bingen, Nicolas of Cusa, and Meister Eckhart, to name but a few. And it is alive and well today in both the secular and religious realms.

In 1982, neurologist and Zen practitioner James Austin felt a “sense of enlightenment” unlike anything he had ever experienced. His sense of individual existence, of separation from the physical world, evaporated like morning mist. He saw things "as they really are". The sense of "I, me, mine" disappeared. His old yearnings, loathings, fear of death and insinuations of selfhood vanished. “I had been graced,” he said “by a comprehension of the ultimate nature of things."[3] his experience spurred his subsequent research during which he discovered that the so-called “orientation association area” of the brain[4] processes information about space and time, and about the orientation of the body in space. It also determines where the body ends and the rest of the world begins. Significantly the intense concentration of meditation blocks sensory inputs to this part of the brain. With no information from the senses arriving, the orientation area cannot find any boundary between the self and the world. And so, the brain seems to have no choice but "to perceive the self as endless and intimately interwoven with everyone and everything", a feeling of infinite space.[5]

Likewise intense prayer, uplifting ritual or liturgy, sacred music, drumming, dancing, incantations and chanting can all soften the boundaries of the self, giving rise to a sense of oneness and spiritual unity. Slow chanting, soft liturgical melodies and whispered ritualistic prayer all seem to work their magic in much the same way: they turn on the hippocampus directly and block neuronal traffic to some brain regions.

So, science informs us that when we have this experience of unitary states, we are not going mad. It does, however, seem to beg the question of how valid our spiritual experience is. But that, really, is more a matter of faith. Personally, I believe that God created my brain wiring, not the other way around.

The drawcard is the state of being in which all is one, and countless people are drawn to find their way there in the course of their spiritual journey. Whether one is Christian or Muslim or Jewish or Buddhist or Atheist or Hindu or Animist – these matter not. Every human being on this planet is, willy-nilly, on a spiritual journey of one sort or another.

T S Eliot’s Four Quartets express this theme with compelling clarity. The poem is a faith journey in itself, beginning with an introduction to beauty – a sumptuous, ecstatic, innocent, erotic beauty discovered in the rose garden of Burnt Norton.[6]

Evocative images of wholeness dominate the opening sequence. The hopeful, almost palpable presence of roses merges with impressions of a rising lotus plant, an abrupt influx of sunlight, the song of the thrush, and overtones of unheard music. But along the way, Eliot also traverses sites of disaffection, deprivation, doubt and darkness.

Little Gidding, the last poem of the sequence (my favourite), is steeped in experiences of strife and affliction.[7] But this is tempered by a sublime vision of divine love, which transfigures previous impressions of the rose, and likewise transfigures images of dissolution into Pentecostal flame.

Eliot masterfully illuminates the spiritual link between apparent opposites, between fire and rose, an “impossible union of spheres.” And so, he says, “We shall not cease from exploration,” enticing us toward the idea of spiritual journey, continuous development, creation in process, little steps, rather than searching vainly for that one pearl of great price, the overpowering moment, the epiphany to end all epiphanies.

And, leaning a little on the Lady Julian of Norwich, he concludes:

 With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

Through the unknown, unremembered gate

When the last of earth left to discover

Is that which was the beginning;

At the source of the longest river

The voice of the hidden waterfall

And the children in the apple-tree

Not known, because not looked for

But heard, half heard, in the stillness

Between two waves of the sea.

Quick now, here, now, always –

A condition of complete simplicity

(Costing not less than everything)

And all shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well

When the tongues of flame are in-folded

Into the crowned knot of fire

And the fire and the rose are one.

Doug Bannerman © 2023

[1] See Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers “The Power of Myth”, Episode 4.

[1] Chapter 53 of Revelations of Divine Love

[1] Sharon Begley “Religion And The Brain” 5/6/01 at 8.00pm EDT
https://www.newsweek.com/religion-and-brain-152895

[1] A bundle of neurons in the superior parietal lobe

[1] Ibid

[1] John Gatta The Transfiguration of Christ and Creation (Eugene, Oregon: WIFP & STOCK 2011) [1] Ibi

Sermon Notes 12th February 2023
Desiree Snyman

In November 1895 Wilhelm Conrad Roentgen accidently discovered the x-ray. Few inventions have had such an immediate impact on human wellbeing. Within a year of Roentgen’s discovery, x-rays were an established part of medical practice. One of the first x-rays that Wilhelm took was of his wife’s hand. Anna Bertha Roentgen was so upset by the image of her skeleton complete with wedding and engagement rings, that she said to him: “I have seen my death”. I doubt she would ever have stepped into his lab again. 

In Matthew 5. 21-37 it is as if Jesus is performing an x-ray on a selection of commandments. By putting these laws under the x-ray, we can see through to the bones of what each law means in practice. The
x-rays are startling. In the same way that x-rays can reveal disease hidden to the human eye, so too does Jesus’ x-ray examination of Judaic law reveal the disease that causes the law to be needed in the first place. 

The opening example has to do with murder. “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, 'You shall not murder'; and 'whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.' But I say to you…” Jesus then points to the root cause of murder, anger, which is the tumour that can cause murder. Anger against another is also liable to judgement because anger is the germ from which murder breeds. 

To be clear, it is not anger in and of itself that is a problem. We are to discern between holy anger and unholy anger. There is a perception that Christianity prohibits anger. Suppressing or not acknowledging anger is unhealthy. In fact, an holy anger can be our greatest spiritual gift, anger can be a form of spiritual direction. Holy anger is often linked to justice; it is the energy that empowers us to rebalance the scales of injustice. Anger can come as a teacher. If we fear anger, suppress it, or feed it, we lose the opportunity to hear what anger’s message is. However, it takes a whole, integrated, holy person to wield the force of anger. The kind of anger that is death dealing to oneself, one’s relationships and in extreme cases to other people, is anger that is allowed to lie rancid, unused, unacknowledged, simmering away, turning its owner bitter. It is for this reason that Jesus takes even anger and puts it under the x-ray too.

Deeper than anger is contempt that lies beneath it: “Whoever shall say to his brother or sister, 'Raca,' shall be liable to more serious judgement.” Raca is an Aramaic expression of contempt. The attitude that gives rise to contempt is the refusal to give others the sort of respect that is due all members of our family. This final x-ray seems to have the worse punishment of all, eternal damnation.  Whoever murders is liable to judgement, but whoever says ‘raca’ to a brother or sister is liable to serious judgement, but excluding others is liable to eternal damnation. 

In other words, Jesus has x-rayed murder and examined the anger that causes murder. In performing an x-ray on anger, Jesus uncovers the contempt that causes anger in the first place. In looking deeper through contempt Jesus reveals exclusion, the assumption that another has little to contribute and should not be taken seriously. Our law even today expects that murder is a crime that should be punished. However, Jesus sees murder as only the last in a series of immoralities. Jesus affords the greatest punishment not to anger that gives rise to murder, not to the contempt that gives rise to anger, but to an attitude.

A lawyer may rightly argue that the escalating sanctions are ridiculous. How can we hope to understand what Jesus is trying to teach where murder is only judged, but anger is more seriously judged  while exclusion is liable to eternal damnation? We shall explore an answer to why Jesus radicalises the law at the end, for now let us look at some other laws Jesus scrutinises. 

Thus far we have put murder under the x-ray, and I understood it in the light of the microscopic analysis that follows. Similarly, we place adultery under the x-ray and make sense of lust – the point at which (in the view of Jesus) adultery actually begins. David McKay: 

“If I have committed myself to you, heart and soul, to live and die together, each for the good of the other, and I look at another with accepted and relished desire, I have surely violated that commitment. If my unfaithfulness goes as far as divorce, then I make your covenant null and void as well as mine. The Church is compassionate with divorce and remarriage because we believe that God is compassionate… and also because, according to the view of Jesus, the heartbreak of divorce is simply the end result of an initial betrayal that began before and has gotten out of control. Condemnation and punishment of divorce is like closing the stable doors after the horses have bolted.”

We come to the end of our reflection and in placing all our x-rays on a light box we ask why Jesus uses the triplet of worsening punishments, where murder contracts a simple judgement and exclusion of another acquires damnation. The scale of worsening punishments makes sense in the context of covenant, our covenant with God and our covenant with each other, our love connection with God and love connection with each other. In the context of our love connection with God and each other the betrayal of trust is a greater evil than anything it might lead to. The first betrayal is the one that counts, what follows is like a set of falling dominoes.

It is that seriousness and wholeheartedness of commitment that is to be protected at all costs, because once it is lost, the whole relationship begins to disintegrate and fall apart – this doesn’t always end in separation – but it does mean that instead of being salt and light the relationship will lose its taste of heaven and will fail to shine with the splendour of the love of God –it will be a travesty, a deception, masquerading as something it is not. This is why the Judaism of Jesus’ day was in such trouble – instead of being a vehicle for the fullness of God’s blessing, preparatory to the arrival of the Messiah, it had become a vehicle for nothing more than its own pretentious self-image, and in consequence more of a curse than a blessing – as Paul says, citing the prophet Isaiah, “For, as it is written, "The name of God is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you." In this context we must ask about the Church. The following wisdom of an unknown source but attributed to Gandhi summarises the intention behind Christ’s teaching:

Watch your thoughts, they become words. Watch your words, they become actions. Watch your actions, they become habits. Watch your habits, they become your character. Watch your character, it becomes your destiny.

(Sources used: McKay, David: 2013. Glimpses of Jesus in Matthew. St Boniface Press: Bunbury). 

Sermon Notes January 2023
Desiree Snyman

Names

Depending on which website you consult, the most popular name worldwide is Mohammed for boys and Sophia and its variations for girls. In developed countries the most popular names are usually James and Mary. In Australia Charlotte was the most popular name for girls and Oliver for boys. In a previous church that I served in, the name Barbara was so widespread in the parish and the village there was a registered club for all women named Barbara.  In South Africa the most popular girls’ name in 2021 was Precious. Precious is not an unusual name. African people place heavy meaning in names, which is why I was saddened to hear of child named “Mistake”. Happily, Mistake is not a common name. African names such as Mercy, Lucky, Goodness, Happiness, and Blessing are usual, this in itself leads to some difficulties. Psalm 23 says “Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy shall follow me all the days of my life”. Author Chris van Wyk thought this meant that his mother Shirley, together with Mercy and Goodness would be following him wherever he went in life.

As a woman priest there are obvious difficulties in employment that my male counterparts thriving in a patriarchal system would never experience.  While being male might make my life easier, I thank God that I was born female, because my parents had decided to name a male child Heinrich-Lukkof after my paternal grandfather. African culture places heavy meaning in naming, as does Scripture. 

Names in the Bible

In Genesis, Jacob the deceiver is renamed Israel meaning God is upright. Abram and Sarai become Abraham and Sarah. In the New Testament Saul becomes Paul after his mystical encounter. 

The power of naming is at play in these early chapters of Luke’s Gospel. When John the Baptist is born there is controversy at his circumcision on the 8th day. The cultural expectation is that his parents Elizabeth and Zechariah would name him Zechariah after his father. Instead, they name him John following the instructions of the angel. 

Luke 1.59: “On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. 60But his mother said, ‘No; he is to be called John.’ 61They said to her, ‘None of your relatives has this name.’ 62Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. 63He asked for a writing-tablet and wrote, ‘His name is John.’ And all of them were amazed.” 

Notice how the author of Luke’s Gospel uses the double as a literary device. Elizabeth and Mary are doubles, as are John and Jesus. Similar to John, Jesus is named before his birth. 

Luke 2.21: After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb”.

Jesus’ name

Jesus means God saves us. Jesus is not the only name given to this child swaddled in a manger. The shepherds go to Bethlehem after the angel has told them about the one who is born is “saviour” and “messiah”. Jesus. Emmanuel. Saviour. Messiah. Jesus is only 8 days old and already his list of names tells a story about his purpose, identity, his relationship with others and his relationship with God, his values, and his actions. On the 8th day Jesus is gifted with his name that describes his purpose as embodying God in the world - Emmanuel. His circumcision names Jesus’ cultural belonging and national identity, his Jewish lineage, and his connection to the prophets. These are not the only names Jesus will be called. Later, some will call him “Drunk”, “Glutton” and even “Beelzebub”.

Names are more than a label for people.  Names are powerful, they are multi directional. Jesus’ name directs attention to Jesus’ presence and the name evokes the experience of Jesus’ presence too. In other words, praying the name Jesus or Christ brings his presence, his work in the world, his values, his essence into the present moment. 

Our names

That is the point of a festival of the Holy Name – to consider, ponder and meditate on how a name directs identity, how we are in the world, and our purpose in life. So, what about you? What names do you carry? If Jesus is also Christ, Messiah, Counsellor, Saviour and according to his detractors “Beelzebub” – what are your names? Some of our names denote belonging, relationship, purpose, and essence, as with Jesus. In addition to Mohammed, Sophia, James, and Mary our names might be mother, father, sister, brother, friend, teacher, mentor, caregiver, divorcee, widow, worker, retiree or aunt or uncle. What is our true name, our true identity? 

The language of Thomas Merton, Thomas Keating and Richard Rohr is helpful. We are not who we think you are. The self you take to work, to your hobbies, the self that worships, that socialises with friends is the separate self, the ego, the false self. The false self is not the bad self, it is just not the true self. The separate self, the ego, is a construction of the mind and consciousness in response to life experience and is often constructed as a way to survive. The ego, the false self, establishes its identity by adding more and more: more names, more things, more moral behaviour, more enlightenment and for some more wealth or more things. Deeper than the false self, the separate self, or the ego, is the True Self. The True Self is connected to Source, to God. It’s our true name, our true identity as God’s Beloved. In contrast to the separate self which is established by addition, adding more things to identity, the True Self is recovered through subtraction, through letting go, through surrender, not adding more and more. 

Our true name

Our path to the True Self is modelled by Mary. In hearing all that is said about Jesus she ponders and treasures these things in her heart. Luke2.19: “19 But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” Treasuring and pondering in the heart is the descent into silence, experiencing and tasting God in pure emptiness. 

1 January is naturally a time to reflect on the past year and reflect on who will be in the future. January is named after Janus, the two Romans mask that looks forwards and backwards at the same time. Look back on the year that was. Who or what are you grateful for? When or where did you feel close to God? When and where did you feel far away from God? Having looked back we look forward also. Who do we want to be in the year ahead. What goal might we have? On the feast day of the Holy Name its worth asking who is choosing your goals, the true self, or the false self?

We celebrate the baptism of Jesus. The early audience of Matthew’s Gospel would appreciate the many symbols and stories from the Hebrew Scriptures that are interwoven into the story of Jesus’ baptism:  

First, the spirit hovering over the water recalls Genesis 1 & 2 that describe the spirit like a wind resting on the waters of chaos from which God created the world. When we read the Baptism of Jesus in Matthew 3 and remember Genesis 1 & 2 we are nudged to see Jesus as the New Creation. Through Jesus God is doing something new in the world, Jesus as Christ represents a New Creation. 

A second archetype woven into the story of Jesus’ baptism is also in Genesis. Genesis 8 relates the story of Noah and the flood. Jesus recapitulates the story of the flood into his body by being fully immersed in the water, just as creation was fully immersed in water during the great flood. As Jesus emerges out of the water a dove descends on him. As Noah and the ark emerge out of the flood waters a dove bearing a green an olive leaf returns to them. Again the message of hope and new life from the Great Flood are woven into the message of Jesus baptism. 

A third story from the Hebrew Scriptures that Matthew relies on is the Exodus of God’s people through the Red Sea. God’s people living in slavery in Egypt are led into freedom by Miriam and her brother Moses. To reach freedom in the Promised Land the Hebrews travel safely through the Red Sea. The Exodus story symbolises the ideal of living as free people. Matthew’s Gospel embodies the story of the Exodus in the baptism of Jesus and implies again that Jesus is a New Moses, a leader who will set people free.

A fourth text that Matthew 3 depends on is from Isaiah 42: “Here is my servant, whom I have chosen, my beloved, with whom my soul is well pleased. I will put my Spirit upon him, and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles.” In Matthew 12 Jesus heals a man on the Sabbath day and it is at this moment Isaiah 42 is used to describe Jesus. In Matthew 17.5 Jesus is on a mountain praying with Peter, James, and John when a voice from a cloud repeats the baptismal message: “This is my son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him.” The clouds symbolises Shekinah the presence of God.

A fifth memory that the baptism of Jesus relies on is obvious with the opening statement in Matthew 3.17: “Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan”. Joshua 3.1 relates: “Early in the morning Joshua and all the Israelites set out from Shittim and went to the Jordan, where they camped before crossing over.” Joshua took over from Moses as leader of the Hebrews. In Joshua 3:14-17, God’s people walk through the river Jordan as their ancestors walked through the Red Sea. The people of God follow the Levites who carry the ark of the covenant that symbolised God’s presence. The river Jordan was in flood but dried up when the Levites bearing the ark entered the water, allowing the people to cross over the Jordan safely and on dry land. What is the ark? It was built by the Israelites under the leadership of Moses. The ark of the covenant is a chest made of acacia wood and covered in pure gold. Near the middle of the chest are two poles also covered in gold, these poles assisted the Levites in carrying the ark. Inside the ark was the ten commandments, Aaron’s staff, and a jar of manna. On top of the ark was the mercy seat and on either side of the mercy seat were two winged angels, cherubim. According to Exodus 25.22, God spoke from the mercy seat: "There, above the cover between the two cherubim that are over the ark of the Testimony, I will meet with you and give you all my commands for the Israelites." The ark was a significant sacred artefact because it manifested God’s presence with God’s people. This is an important point, the ark meant God was real, God was near, God spoke, God was with you, God fulfilled the covenant: “I will be your God and you will be my people”. For our reading of Matthew 3.17 today I suggest we latch onto this symbol. Just as Jesus is a New Creation so too is Jesus a new Ark of the Covenant.  

The moment I wish us to focus on is the meeting point between Jesus ascending and the dove descending. The scripture describes the heavens being torn apart, a symbol portraying a breakthrough, a watershed moment. Jesus ascends from the waters of baptism at the moment the spirit descends onto him in the form of a dove. Jesus becomes the place where heaven and earth meet, where grace and truth embrace and where righteous justice and peace kiss (Psalm 85.10). Jesus becomes the marriage of finite humanity with infinite divinity. Jesus becomes the ark of the covenant, the manifestation of God’s presence in the world. The mystical moment for Jesus is when the boundaries between heaven and earth dissolve into one. I suggest that the Baptism of Jesus is unitive consciousness, a moment when Jesus know that he is not separate from God. Like the ark of the covenant, a human thing of beauty signposting the nearness of divinity, Jesus manifests God’s unity with finite reality. In his baptism Jesus is one with creation symbolised by being in water and also one with God symbolised by the voice from the clouds and the touch of the Spirit resting on him like a dove. Jesus experiences the universal and eternal truth that God is everywhere, that he is in God and that God is in him. It is said that the mercy seat between the two cherubim was where God pronounced forgiveness of sin. I suggest that sin we recover from is thinking that we separate from God or each other.  

What Jesus baptism mean for us? Jesus’ baptism summarises a breakthrough in human consciousness, a new understanding that he is the son of God, he is the light of the world. Jesus’ identity is that he is the son of God. Jesus’ mission is to share his identity with us. Like Jesus, we too are sons and daughters of God. Jesus is the light of the world but his message to each of us is clear: “you are the light of the world”. Jesus became what we are (human) so that we could become what he is (divine). The discovery of our true identity is God within. In baptism Jesus discovers his inner Christ. In baptism we discover our inner Christ, our union in the Divine, we discover the life-giving water that is the limitless nourishment for our life’s journey. Jesus is the destiny of our human evolution, a person from the future to which we are all moving. I like the image of the Ark of the Covenant and suggest we adopt it as a symbol of who we are for others. Like the ark of the covenant we are thing of human beauty covered in pure gold. Inside the ark are the tablets representing that we belong to God and God belongs to us. Like the ark the centre of who we are is God’s mercy seat we every breath reminds us that we are in the breath of God’s love, always one with God. Inside the Ark is manna, a symbol of God’s sustenance. Likewise inside each of us is our inner Christ, our true identity which is the limitless sustenance for our journey. Our baptism means that we are the ark in God’s world, manifestations of God’s presence, reminding those around us that God is near, God is real, God is within. One of the ways that I live out being an ark is through praying Bodhisattva’s prayer for humanity: 

May I be a guard for those who need protection
A guide for those on the path
A boat, a raft, a bridge for those who wish to cross the flood
May I be a lamp in the darkness
A resting place for the weary
A healing medicine for all who are sick
A vase of plenty, a tree of miracles
And for the boundless multitudes of living beings
May I bring sustenance and awakening
Enduring like the earth and sky
Until all beings are freed from sorrow
And all are awakened.

18 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.
19 Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.
20 But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.
21 She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.’
22 All this took place to fulfil what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:
23 ‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel’, which means, ‘God is with us.’
24 When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife,
25 but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus. 

Her deepest longing connects with God’s deepest longing, and she becomes pregnant with divine potential. 

Her deepest desire connects with God’s deepest desire and there is a union of divine infinite love with finite flesh. 

Her experience is that she is so filled with the spirit of God, love, that she becomes a source for God in the world. She experiences first hand that God is with her.

When she first experiences God’s Word inside her, she knows that she carries God, but that God also carries her. 

At first the experience of the Divine moving within her is angelic, holy, and inspiring. She feels God’s Word live and move and breathe within her – it is breath taking. She feels God’s hopes and dreams to share love and presence take solid form within her. There is no denying it – she is blissful. 

But soon her flesh body begins to revolt. She is nauseous and tired. What she once enjoyed she now avoids – it makes her gag. And the distaste that she sometimes feels at the burden of divinity within her is echoed in the judging faces of the community around her. Fingers are pointed. Eyebrows are raised. Questions are asked. When she enters a room, conversations are muffled. 

How is it that the burden of divinity, the burden of restless transcendence can be so light yet so heavy at the same time? She truly desires nothing more than the fullness of God’s presence to saturate her. The answer to her prayers is both her greatest freedom yet the source of scandal and offence. The divinity within her comforts her as much as it confronts and offends others. God’s messengers bless her, but the gossip and judgement of the most religious, and the rumours of others degrade her.  

To console herself she chooses as spiritual ancestors Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba, and Ruth. These women leaders are the ancestors of her son Jeshua, the new Moses, who will lead her people into a new freedom. She identifies with these women. These women are also shrouded in a cloud of scandal. These four women are also outsiders, always at the edge of things, excluded, but they are women through whom God works, through whom the divine love story takes shape, women through whom salvation is carried out for God’s people. She looks to the strength of these women as heroes and whispers a prayer to the divinity with her that he would be brave as they were brave, that he would continue the song-line of God’s love story carried so faithfully through Ruth, Bathsheba, Tamar, and Rahab. 

She writes their names down with other ancestors, dividing their names into 7 groups of 6. Seven is the number of wholeness, fullness, and healing and when fingers are pointed, eyebrows raised and when her own body revolts against her, she reminds herself that the new life in her is a new beginning, a genesis, a creation of God that she has co-created. 

Why is it that people feel so threatened by her potential to bring the divine into being? Even a righteous man, her best friend, quietly tries to remove his embarrassment and scandal: her. A just man is one who is well versed in the law. By rights he could have her stoned, this would be “just”. This would be true righteousness - applying the letter of the law. 

Being just is also about being open to the Infinite, open to Mystery, open to being surprised by God. This just man responds by providing a safe haven for the God bearer and sanctuary for the Word she bears, the fruit of her womb. In this act of trust and openness, in this tender and compassionate and gentle response, the righteous one experiences “God with us.”

Whose story is this?

Her story is a universal story. It is her story. It is our story. It is my story. It is your story. For when we are empty, empty of ego, empty of our own self-righteousness, empty of ourselves, empty of our own plans, then finally we can offer space for the fullness of God. When we are free of our own exhausting ambitions and control, when we are truly virgin, then God’s infinity joins hands with our finite reality – heaven and earth join hands – grace and mercy kiss. And when we long of God, really thirst and desire nothing but all of God: all of God’s love, all of God’s presence, all of God’s life: then our deepest longing connects with God deepest longing and the union of those two desires will birth God into this world. We are pregnant with the presence of God. As we wait on God, as we learn to say yes to God’s Word in us, God’s presence in us and with us, we will know ourselves as called and gifted to give this Word to the world that God loves.  

This time next year will mark the tenth anniversary of the death of Nelson Mandela. Born in an obscure Xhosa village he became the first black president of a democratic South Africa. Truth is stranger than fiction – who would have believed that a former terrorist jailed for life, would be released after 27 years to become a statesman recognised worldwide. Ten years after his death there is much hagiography on the life of Nelson Mandela, meaning that the stories surrounding his life paint him as a saint. Yet Desmond Tutu remembers an angry Mandela and has commented that his 27 years of imprisonment were a dark night, a crucible of transformation so that the Mandela who emerged was gracious, forgiving of his captives and able to lead a more united country. 

Imagine Nelson Mandela sitting in prison during the last of those 27 years. Some news, but not much, drips into the Robin Island prison. Would he be wondering what was going on in South Africa? Would he wonder how South Africa was changing? Would he be reflecting on his life, wondering if it was all worth it? Would he be considering the sacrifices he had made and wondering if these sacrifices had made any difference at all?  

Mandela was a giant of the 20th century; so much so that in 2009 the United Nations declared 18 July Mandela day. At the time of his death much of Mandela’s vision was realised, even though there is still much work to do.

I suggest that there are parallels between Nelson Mandela contemplating his life, fate and future in prison and John the Baptist, a revolutionary prophet imprisoned by the last king of the Jews, Herod.

John the Baptist

As you know, John, much like Nelson Mandela, challenged the oppression in political and religious leadership. Scholarship today confirms that John the Baptist was a member of the Essene community. The Essenes, who lived near Qumran around the Dead Sea, had an ascetic approach to life and repudiated the decadence of the world they saw around them. Much of this Essene lifestyle is reflected in John the Baptist, who, like prophets Elijah and Elisha before him, lived in the desert wearing camel skin and eating locusts and honey when he could find them.

Enormously admired in his day, John gave voice to the people’s anger at the elites who profited from religious and political hierarchies.  

More than anything, John wanted God’s kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven. The dreams described in Isaiah’s poetry inspired John, a land of safety with enough for all, a land where people’s full flourishing was nurtured and where there were no blockages to people’s needs being satisfied. John’s dreams and vision for a kingdom where the hungry are fed and the those in debtors’ prison are freed threaten the status quo, especially if the status quo relies on many being poor so that few can be rich. Life seldom goes smoothly for activist and constantly speaking out against Herod landed John in prison.

Imagine John sitting in prison during the last of his years. Some news, but not much, drips into John’s prison. Would he be wondering what was going on? Would he wonder how society was changing? John heard news of Jesus, his cousin and former student and disciple, doing God’s work, articulating God’s kindness and love in care for the most vulnerable. Would John be reflecting on his life, wondering if it was all worth it? Would he be considering the sacrifices he had made and wondering if these sacrifices had made any difference at all?  Was there any hope for a new world, for God’s kingdom to come on earth?

Jesus gracious words to John comfort him with hope: new life the dead receive, the lame leap for joy, the mournful broken hearts rejoice, the humble poor believe, the blind see. In other words, John’s dreams of a new world order are coming true.

Us

Like Mandela and John we too may contemplate our lives from inside our prisons. Our prison bars are apathy, doubt, a lack of enthusiasm and commitment for God’s kingdom, a lack of faith in our faith, discouragement, and the endless busyness of our lives. We desperately yearn for God’s kingdom of peace, hope, justice, kindness, and gentleness. We take communion trusting in a universe where all have enough bread, and all have wine to celebrate. We pray. We worship. Our hearts long for all children to experience safety, love, and hope. Yet the world around us belies our deepest confidences. The political systems of injustice and racism effect the most vulnerable. Aboriginal people still have no voice, no justice, no acknowledgement of the history of pain embedded in their DNA. The war in Ukraine rages against our dreams of peace. We feel frustration like John and Mandela did, Jesus’ revolution of love does not seem to be happened. What can break us free from our prisons of doubt, discouragement, and apathy? Two things:

Focus on the positive

1. Jesus says that God’s kingdom is on the way and is unfolding in our midst. It is true that we live inside the tension of the yet and the not yet. There is a tug of war with God’s kingdom and Isaiah’s dream on the one hand and the reality of war, violence, and injustice on the other hand. Jesus asks that we notice and bless the moments where the kingdom of God blossoms. This is why Jesus messaged John with the Good News of the blind seeing, the lame walking and the imprisoned free. Jesus was drawing attention to the positive kingdom moments while John was focused on negative despair. It is human nature to give more credit to the negative and downplay the positive. Neuroscientists teach us that our brains are hotwired to remember the negative more than the positive. While one negative experience trains the brain, it requires five positive experiences to create a learning moment. Negative memories stick like Velcro and positive memories stick like Teflon. Jesus helps us by reminding us to look at the positive moments. We are invited to look at the seeds of the kingdom of God growing, and not focus on the dark, dank soil, compost and manure surrounding the growing seed.

Live the future now

2. “Strengthen the weak hands,” says the Prophet “And make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear!’” The prophet Isaiah who inspired John the Baptist and Jesus paints a vivid picture of God’s new world order. The vision of God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven is to inspire people to live God’s promised future as if it is a reality now. Thus in God’s promised future, there is no loneliness thus we celebrate belonging and community now. In God’s promised future there is no hunger and poverty thus in the present we share our excess so that all have enough. In God’s promised future people have access to education and all that might nourish their full potential thus in the present we support policies that remove blockages to people’s agency and empowerment. To describe how blockages to human growth is removed Isaiah uses the image of a highway, a straight road where mountains are made low, and valleys are lifted up. “And the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

Isaiah 11:1-10 and Matthew 3:1-12

The Season of Advent is all about preparation and getting ourselves ready for the birth of Jesus. As I pondered on this preparation and time of getting ready, I wondered how our communities, how you prepare and get ready.

Do you decorate your homes with Christmas decorations?

Do you send Christmas Cards, write letters, emails, prepare a Facebook post?

Do you buy gifts and give gifts?

Do you attend Christmas parties?

Do you host the Christmas Day Lunch or Dinner for family, friends or may be even complete strangers?

Do you in all your Christmas preparations talk about Jesus and share His life story and ministry with others?

Here at Alstonville Anglicans, St Bartholomew’s Church has been prepared as well. We have the Advent wreath with the five candles. The three purple and pink one represent the hope, peace, joy, and love that we anticipate should be in the world. While the white candle is the Christ candle. Each week leading up to Christmas, one by one the purple candles are lit and then on Christmas the Christ candle is lit symbolising Jesus has come into the world. To add further illustration, we also have the nativity scene that illustrates the story of Christmas.

The word “Advent” refers to the coming or arrival of someone or something. It is traditionally and liturgically connected to Christmas. Christmas is about an arrival - the most significant arrival in history. It is about the Advent - the coming of Jesus Christ.[1]

I wonder though in the busyness of life, the hustle and bustle that exists, when we are attempting to finalise our years’ labour; preparing for holidays, putting up decorations, the buying of gifts and going to the many Christmas parties we attend, do we pause and consider the most important preparation - are we spiritually prepared?

The first thing I want to say about the bible readings this morning is that they both point to Jesus. They both in their individual styles seek to build the kingdom of heaven. The readings give us the tools, the encouragement we need to ensure that the kingdom of heaven becomes a reality when we exist in a fallen word. The readings show us that the hope, the peace, the joy, and the love can exist in our lives as we prepare for the Way of the Lord.

Isaiah 11 begins with the claim that new life will spring forth from an injured stump. “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.[2] The following verses then give us an expression of the new future where we see a ruler on whom the spirit will rest. Promise comes to Israel in the form of a person - a human king who embodies the best of Israel's traditions: This ruler is wise and understanding, powerful and effective in war, able to judge for the benefit of the poor andobedient to God. This king rules the world in such a way that the poor are treated righteously, the meek are given a fair hearing and the wicked are killed. So glorious is this reign that he is literally clothed in righteousness and faithfulness. We also see in these verses the reordering of creation’s priorities. Life emerges from death. This is the way of Israel's God. The King spoken of here does not come to hurt, but rather remakes lives, transforms lives, allowing peace to emanate outward, filling the world with the knowledge of the Lord. The people will be drawn to God who resides at Zion.[1]

Today in our Gospel reading we are introduced to an interesting character in that of John the Baptist. The opening verse of chapter 3 indicates to us that John the Baptist came preaching in the wilderness of Judea. John the Baptist’s preaching was about repentance because the kingdom of heaven has come near. Repentance is not merely a change of mind but a radical change of one’s life that especially involves forsaking sin and turning or returning to God.[2] Not a change of mind but rather a radical change of one’s life. God had called John the Baptist to be His messenger, to be the forerunner to go ahead and prepare the people. John the Baptist was calling people if they truly want to be a people of God, they needed to first confess their sins and seek God’s forgiveness. Thus, he offers them a baptism of repentance so that they can be forgiven.

Now there is a saying, “First impressions count”. Much of our remaining verses describes John the Baptist. Our imagination is stretched as his appearance and living habits are described. He is described as wilderness man. He is clothed in camel’s hair, wearing a leather belt and eats locusts and wild honey.[3] Not the most appealing type of character, is he?

But, despite his appearance, we see the people from Jerusalem and all Judea and the whole the region of the Jordan are drawn to him, they come. They come confessing their sins and they were baptised by him in the Jordan River. At this point we are introduced to the Pharisees and the Sadducees who have also come to be baptised. The Pharisees were a legalistic group choosing to keep the law of Moses. Whereas a Sadducees were more worldly and politically minded in their approach. They did not believe in the resurrection.[1] John the Baptist called them out for their beliefs and behaviour calling them a brood of vipers. He would not baptise the Pharisees and Sadducees because they failed to give evidence of repentance. John the Baptist tells them to produce fruit consistent with repentance. Well, what does that mean? It means to demonstrate the true change in your heart and mind by the way that you live your life. The arrival of the Messiah will bring repentance. 

John the Baptist is humble and as such not drawing attention to himself, but rather wanting to point the way to one who is greater than he. While he is baptising and calling for repentance and forgiveness of sins, he is pointing people to Jesus with the words “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and fire”.[2] This is the role John the Baptist plays out in a significant way, calling attention to the one who ushers in God’s kingdom. Jesus is the Messiah whose ministry is empowered by God’s Spirit. 

The people of Jerusalem and all Judea were not drawn to John the Baptist for his physical appearance or what he ate, but rather by the words he was sharing. For us living in 2022, the world in which we live is far from ideal. We can be beacons of God’s light in the world. People are drawn to us by our actions and words that we speak. By our attitudes and our acceptance of all people. Through the teachings of the Bible, we have been taught to love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength and to love your neighbour as yourself. Yes, we are encouraged to confess our short-comings and seek forgiveness. We too are called and empowered by the Holy Spirit to live out a life that was modelled by Jesus’ example and to share the good news. 

It is Jesus who brings us hope into our lives to look forward to.

It is Jesus who brings us peace of mind.

It is Jesus who brings us joy into our hearts.

It is Jesus who brings us love and is love.

May the hope, the peace, the joy, and the love fill your heart! 

God has the power to build a great kingdom from a tiny shoot. Our Saviour had a humble beginning at a time when David’s family was in dishonour; but in the end, His Kingdom will prevail over all earthly powers. He will bring peace on earth and the glory of God will cover the earth.[1]

Friends, my hope and prayer for this season of Advent as we move towards Christmas is that you will allow yourself time to prepare the way for the Lord in your life. I encourage you to set aside some time to take a spiritual inventory, to account for your shortcomings and return with a renewed passion for Jesus Christ. Be comforted that Jesus wants to transform your life. Get ready for the good things God has planned for your future![1]

Amen.

Mark Stuckey, LLM

[1] The Holy Bible, New International Version Zondervan NIV Study Bible 1984 p. 1471 - Matthew 3:7 (Study foot note)

[2] Matthew 3:11

[1] https://www.workingpreacher.org Commentary on Isaiah 11:1-10 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary by Michael J. Chan

[2] The Holy Bible, New International Version Zondervan NIV Study Bible 1984 p. 1470 - Matthew 3:2 (Study foot note)

[3] Matthew 3:4

[1] Back to the Bible – 14 Days Christmas Devotional – Day 1 http://daleosheilds.com

[2] Isaiah 11:1

1. I mean why not James & Matthew? Or Thomas & John? Erudite theologians, may supply reasons for linking these two disciples. But this is not a theological lecture – this is an elderly part-time preacher's attempt to highlight some facts about each disciple's life and ministry. My hope is to encourage you, my fellow 21st century disciples as we also attempt to follow Jesus ... it is in his name we struggle ... let's pray ...

Our Father, please guide us now as we briefly consider the lives of these two disciples, help us learn from them and their examples. Equip us Father to follow Jesus more closely. - It is in his name we pray. Amen.

One story that has arisen out of the collected memory of our church at Tregeagle refers to an eleven-year-old boy who, while admiring this stained-glass window which was high in the chancel, exclaimed in surprise and wonder:

“Mum they're high fiving! I didn't know they did that in the Bible!“

Well, I don't know either! Both Peter and Paul are on record for encouraging people to greet fellow Christians 'with a holy kiss' And we are certainly encouraged 'as far as it depends on us' to live at peace -in harmony - with everyone. A good principle! The wording seems to indicate that there may be times when this is not possible. Maybe the Holy Kiss is the biblical equivalent to today's high-fiving! We certainly recognise there are some times when high-fiving – living in harmony may not be possible - times when harmony, peace and genuine 'high-fiving' needs to be worked for – times when we mustn't merely be pacifiers but need to be peace makers (Ref: the Sermon on the Mount)

Such disagreement occurred during the ministries of Peter and Paul. The issue: is circumcision required for Gentiles who become Christians? Or is baptism sufficient? The two disciples argued, discussed, and agreed. Thus, a possible early "schism" was avoided. A popular hymn*, testifies to the Church's often chequered history since.

Currently, the issue of same-sex marriage has the potential to divide people of faith. Our Anglican Communion holds two schools of thought in tension: 'Comprehensive Anglicanism' favours the developing of a marriage rite for same-sex couples. Whereas traditional conservatives dismiss this idea as 'Neo-paganism' holding that the Bible only supports marriage as an exclusive union between one male and one female ideally for life.

Peter and Paul's apparent example of prayerful, robust, and respectful debate needs to be followed. with prayer. While Paul and Peter may have come from- 'different sides of the tracks' - they each came to put his confidence in Jesus, and to depend on him in this life and for the next!

A brief look at each man: well, what were they like? What would each be like living now?

Firstly, I reckon Paul in today's world would be an IT nerd, or a bookworm. At school he'd be the kid who spends lunch time in the library - a scholar, a careful studious very religious boy. School magazine prediction: a future Rhodes Scholar.

Secondly, I reckon Peter today would be a blue-collar worker, shop steward or Union rep. At school he'd frequent the gymnasium or spend lunch time catching tadpoles, a sports star- an exuberant very religious boy. School magazine prediction: a future Olympic medallist.

BOTH searching: - both 'good Jewish boys' ...each from good families two non-surprises:                             

2. Paul is expecting the Messiah - Nonsurprise 1/ to find Paul's youth was spent in formal education brought up in the city, educated @ the feet of leading Pharisee Gamaliel according to the strict manner of the law (Acts22:3) examining scrolls/texts searching for Messiah he grows in his understanding of Messiahship.  His search for, all his expecting of Messiah - prepare him for meeting with Jesus! Paul has had a growing understanding of the Messiah!

Peter is anticipating the Messiah - Nonsurprise 2/ to find Peter learning both his religion and his trade at home. Apprenticed to his father, becomes ready to give away his fishing licence to follow a nondescript itinerant rabbi who he suspects is the Messiah. To the challenging invitation: “Follow me, and I will make you a fisher of men” Peter's immediate response: he leaves the nets and follows him. (Mt4.) His search for, his anticipating of Messiah – prepare him for meeting with Jesus! he has this growing recognition of the Messiah!

Can you imagine the differences of these two men's youthful experiences?

Paul 'silver spoon' privilege and Roman citizenship vs Jewish religious upbringing are bound to bring about a clash of cultures. Paul says of himself: If anyone thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more:  circumcised on the eighth day of the people of Israel, tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; (Philippians 3.4)

Paul > studying the Torah, O.T. Prophets with beautiful scripture passages: For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground;(Is:53.2) then the shock & horror: 'He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter' (vs 7) Paul has an intellectual problem with these seeming opposite extremes. A brain/heart struggle …God's deliverer of all Israel suffer? The one we all depend on?! (he can hardly believe it)

Peter > learning in the rough & tumble of life listening to Jesus- seeing him work miracles (e.g. His mum-in-law – healed!) He has the mind-boggling experience of witnessing Jesus' transfiguration … struggling emotionally to get things together in his head/heart 3 steps forward he declares: you are the Christ the son of the living God! -Jesus: “congrats! Not revealed by flesh & blood!” - spiritual! (discernment) Later he says he'll stick with Jesus. “Where else would we go Lord? You have the words of eternal life.” Then on objecting to the idea of Jesus' future suffering: He is rebuked by Jesus: “Get behind me Satan!” - 2 steps backward Peter has an emotional problem with the same extremes. A mind/heart struggle … God's rescuer suffer? The one to deliver us?! (he can't believe it)

Both disciples on steep learning curves … Paul discovers as he 'hits the books' that the Messiah is the suffering servant! …Peter hears Jesus preach, sees the miracles and is discovering Jesus is to suffer? Both men are slowly coming to understand that the Messiah must suffer. The same steep learning curve faces all the followers. The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now seeking to stone you, and are you going there again?” They wish to keep Jesus safe. Thomas, in resignation, speaks for the twelve: he said to his fellow disciples, “Let 's also go, that we may die with him.” (Jn 11:8/16) (cheery Tom!)

For all the disciples, what is making Jesus' suffering so difficult to accept? And now today, what makes the fact of Jesus suffering difficult? For us? What makes it necessary for the Servant to suffer? How come Jesus chooses to head toward Jerusalem - to his suffering and death? --This steep learning curve for Peter & Paul is just as steep for all of humanity. As a race we follow our ancestors Eve & Adam - we reject the concept that we need help! We get sucked in by our D.I.Y. culture: God helps those who help themselves.

You can do it! The concept that we need Jesus to save us from our sins is repudiated constantly in our culture with thoughts like: 'Religion is outmoded' 'Be a man!' and 'A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do!' and of course: 'Girls can do anything!' There's that old popular song often played at funerals: 'I did it my way'. It seems we don't need anyone else! Certainly, ever since the Eden Garden experience we don't need God! We definitely don't need someone to suffer for us! The Israelites and most pagan religions depended on sacrifice. To appease the Almighty, people sacrificed animals and crops, virgins and children. All this was to atone for sin. To win favour, to make a pleasing sacrifice.

Peter & Paul's learning curve begins at the point of understanding the 'Suffering Servant-Messiah'. It concludes with the acceptance of the New Covenant! From our perspective we may appreciate the 'suffering servant-messiah'. We understand, yet struggle to fathom, Jesus' choice of suffering and death.

The Christian life has any number of steep learning curves. Where are you right now?

The same lesson had to be learnt by Peter & Paul (You & me) suffering servant!

Political changes Obama … Trump ...Biden … in Australia ...

Political fresh starts … ? excitement with Gough Whitlam's “It's time” Kevin '0 7'

I'm hoping for a new ERA in Australia after last night's world cup win ...by the Socceroos!

But greater by far was the new understanding of God's NEW Covenant, new deal, New Testament! Peter & Paul's understanding: suffering servant-messiah - Jesus' death & Resurrection!

Can you say with the apostle Paul: whatever gain I had, I count as loss for the sake of Christ, indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.(Philippians 3).

Let's pray using the apostle Peter's words: Let's give thanks to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! Because of his great mercy he gave us new life by raising Jesus Christ from death. This fills us with a living hope. (1Pet 1.3)

Amen ? Amen! ~ John Kidson    ©      2022

The question Luke 23 attempts to answer is “what kind of king is this?” Luke 23.38: “There was also an inscription over him, ‘This is the King of the Jews.’” Instead of a throne Jesus is nailed to a cross. Instead of jewels the crown is thorns. Instead of a throne room Jesus holds court on Golgotha – a dusty hill called The Skull. Instead of royal advisors Jesus has convicted criminals on his left and right. What kind of king is this?

Conventional or normal kings and kingdoms are top down, hierarchical, domination systems. The only way to maintain a top-down domination system is with violence. Violence lies at the heart of kings, kingdoms, empires, and the structure of society. In contrast the kingdom of God is a way of life that gives honour and value to everyone unconditionally. The kingship of Jesus provides a new way to frame power, authority, and structure society. Listen for the end of the sermon that notes the personal and political transformation possible in answering the question “What kind of king is this?”

What kind of king is this? How do you answer the question? It is a personal and a political question. Before you doze off, I suggest that the answers to the question “What kind of king is this?” shapes our future, our humanity and perhaps even our survival. For example, the crusades are a result of believing Christ the King to be imperial, almighty, and judgemental. So, wake-up, stop daydreaming, sit up straight, look at the cross, and with Luke, ask “What kind of king is this?”

In failing to take seriously the question “what kind of king is this?” we default into supporting military and economic policies that are “a necessary evil” for the normalcy of civilisation. If we fail to adequately answer the question “what kind of king is this?” we fail to participate in God’s dream of a new world, we are apolitical and allow our spirit-lives to be bland, ineffective, and untransformed. 

What kind of king is this? Our king is a crucified king. Jesus was sentenced to death on the charge of treason and insurrection and executed by the Romans as a political rebel. Jesus’ passion for God’s dream, for kindness and gentleness, for mercy and justice, set him on a collision course with “business as usual”.

We follow a crucified king. Make no mistake, the crucifixion of Jesus is political. Marcus Borg describes the normalcy of civilisation that takes as self-evident the use of violence to maintain “peace”. In the cross we see the normalcy of civilisation and how it uses death, violence, and destruction as routine modes of operation. It is the repetitive story of history: if they crucify us, we crucify them. Tired of oppression and injustice, a group of middle eastern people attacked America on 9/11/2001. In response, America and her allies returned fire with fire, promising peace. Twenty years on, is the world a safer place? The story of tit-for-tat is as old as history. In the cross we also see our routine responses to violence, pain, oppression, aggression, and injustice in the world. The usual responses to violence, destruction, pain, oppression, and injustice are fight, flight, and freeze. Human evolution has conditioned us to respond to violence and injustice with freeze, fight, and flight. In Jesus a new normal is offered beyond fight and flight.

What kind of king is this? In answering the question “What kind of king is this?” we find our way out of the cycle of continued violence that defines the insanity of our history. What kind of king is this? A king that offers judgement on the violence of the oppressors: ‘Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” While some interpret Jesus’ prayer as an acceptance of the violence he was enduring, I suggest that these words are a pronouncement of judgement on oppression, violence, injustice, and fear. The systems and people that executed our crucified king were normal and even good – the routine normalcy of civilisation. By offering forgiveness, Jesus has indicted the authorities who signed off on his execution; they need forgiveness because of the banality of their evil, an evil that they were not even aware of.

The term “banality of evil” is from Hannah Arendt. In confronting the evil at the heart of Nazi Germany Hannah did not find bad people intent on murdering people and destroying the world. Instead, she found Eichmann an ordinary apolitical bland bureaucrat who was ‘neither perverted nor sadistic’, but ‘terrifyingly normal’ (in Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil published 1963). Like those who crucified Christ Eichmann also ‘never realised  what he was doing’.

The answers to “what kind of king is this?” lead us on a journey of political and personal transformation. Our journey is one of political transformation in the sense that it contains glimpses of God’s passions for a certain type of world, a world of justice and mercy. Our journey is one of personal transformation from bland, terrifyingly normal participants in the status quo into disciples of Christ.

The experience of emigration is a stressful one. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong, altogether and at the same time. In the last few months leading up to emigration from South Africa, much of my attention was taken up with paperwork and the administration required in leaving one country to enter a new one. I had little time for the inner work of what emigration might mean. One morning, while in the shower, I paused to enjoy the sound of South African birds outside my window. I recognised the sounds of the crested barbet, the piet-my-vrou, and the hadadas. I wondered what birds I would hear in Australia, and at that moment the reality hit me that I was leaving everything I knew and loved. My whole world was coming to an end. I didn’t cry, I sobbed – the primal sobbing when a piece of your soul is removed from you, without anaesthetic. I was traumatised at the relationships I was leaving behind, and that I was tearing children away from beloved family. The end of my world dawned on me and the fear of the unknown overwhelmed me.

Ten years later we are grateful for the gentle home Australia has provided. We are delighted at the safe place we have been gifted to raise a family with joy and freedom. We have been afforded the privilege of building a good life that we do not take for granted. I look back at the catastrophe in the shower and while I would never wish such a grief on my worst enemy, that moment has become a precious part of my story. The end of one chapter allowed for the beginning of a new one.

It is part of the mystery of being human that we experience moments where our world is shattered, where everything we once knew and trusted is taken away from us. Many describe the experiences that led to moments of freefall when the stable ground beneath is dissolved. Death, divorce, the loss of a job, debilitating illness, the loss of a home and everything in it, the loss of faith: such chaos is life shattering. Endings are painful, yet they are the necessary beginning of new life; this is precisely the point Jesus makes in Luke 21.

Jesus communicates the precariousness of the present in language designed to cause anxiety.

While some admire the solid beauty of the temple, Jesus declares that what looks so fixed and stable is passing away. In sum, Jesus says that:

o   our religious structures will fall apart in chaos,

o   our political structures will fall apart in chaos,

o   and our environment will go bananas – there will be earthquakes, floods, and plagues.

Sound familiar? If one chooses a literal or fundamentalist interpretation of Scripture, Jesus’ “predictions” may seem rather frightening, and imminent: Plagues?…H1N1…Covid 19… check. Earthquakes? In 2004 an earthquake and tsunami in Indonesia killed more than 200 000 people in several countries. Wars? We thought the days of one country invading another were over until Russia’s unprovoked attack on Ukraine. In every century there have been disasters to predict the end of the world. From the time that Chicken Licken thought the sky was falling down, there have also been no shortage of “prophets” predicting the end of the world.

I would advise against a literal interpretation of Scripture, and, having understood the context of Luke 21 I would also suggest we allow the scripture to speak to us as a metaphor, allowing it to speak many truths on many levels.

As you know, the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem is a corner stone in the Gospel of Luke. The Gospel begins with Zechariah praying in the temple (Luke 1.5) and ends with the disciples praying in the temple (Luke 24.52-53: “And they worshipped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God”). In between Zechariahs’ vision (Luke 1.12) and the apostles’ worship (Luke 24), the Lukan narrative journeys from Nazareth to the Jerusalem temple where the showdown between Jesus and the powers takes place and Jesus is crucified.

The point Luke makes in chapter 21 is that the temple failed to live up to God’s ideal.  The disciples who should have known better admired the beauty of the temple. Jesus helped them to see it as it really is, he points out a widow whose poverty financed the extravagance of the temple they admired: “The Pharisees devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers”. The temple was built on the exploitation of the most vulnerable who are then literally left without a home. Things are not what they seem, the temple takes from the poor to give to the rich. The temple was the thing that Jewish people could be most certain of. Thus the destruction of the temple in 70CE by the Roman emperor Titus was more than devastating, it was as if God had died too.

When what is certain and taken for granted destructs Jesus reassures his followers that everything will work out in the end. Jesus encourages his friends to practice the faith he modelled and to trust in what he taught. In today’s parlance Jesus might say “Keep calm and carry on”.

Jesus vividly describes the end of world, in every age ordinary people have experienced their world falling apart, the centre of their world caving in. As Jesus comforted his disciples so he comforts us too. Jesus reminds us that there is a new beginning out of every painful ending, even if it doesn’t seem that way at the time. When dreams crumble, when someone you always trusted dies or worse betrays you, when your health or wealth evaporates, when you lose your “Jerusalem”, your touchstone, Jesus reminds us that things are not always what they seem, that the end of one chapter is the beginning of a new one, that out of death comes life. Anxiety and depression are on the rise, and why wouldn’t they be with how resilience has been tested since 2020. When one is in the clutches of an anxiety attack it may feel like it will last forever. Scientists assure us that 90s is as long as a bad feeling lasts. Anxiety is bad, really bad, but it does not last forever, even if it feels like that at the time.  In the film The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel the owner comforts the guests who feel that everything is falling apart. He says: ‘Everything will be all right in the end… If it’s not all right, then it is not the end.’ Herein lies a profound theological truth, though our trusted institutions crumble, though dreams fade, though the church seems to be in decline, though we let go of what was once self-evident, in the end everything, yes, everything will be more than all right. And if is not all right, hold tight, it is not yet the end.

Indeed they cannot die any more, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection. (Luke 20.36)

Remembrance Day is a time when we remember “the fallen”. Or, more specifically, our fallen. The people on our side who “gave their lives for us”, victims of a horrifying human process called war. Or, as Laurence Binyon so movingly put it:

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

Yes, of course; we will remember them, but the remembering in which we collectively engage seems to me to be a possessive thing, biased, one sided, short sighted; there is something missing. And because it is lop-sided, our collective memories, our contemporary myths, are lop-sided; prone to elicit ill-informed judgements, hatred, racism, xenophobia and so on.

A little over 50 years ago, I stood in a small WWI graveyard on a hilltop in Belgium. It comprised a roughly square plot of land within which lay a smaller square. It was shaded by a crown of mature trees, and, apart from the pathway that separated the inner square from the outer, the ground was covered in ivy.

Three plaques heralded the left, centre and right-hand sections. The left hand one identified a common grave for German soldiers, the right hand one for Allied soldiers, and the middle one for unidentified remains. That discovery left me in awe, because the fallen honoured there were all of the combatants who had fallen in a fierce 36-hour battle. An inclusive memorial to a communion of saints.

And so, today, I endeavour to talk about another kind of remembering, a more comprehensive way, perhaps.

Our Gospel for the day puts resurrection squarely in the frame. It was written by Luke, who also wrote The Acts of the Apostles. Taken together, they provide an extraordinary narrative tapestry.

The resurrection was (inevitably) first proclaimed in Israel, and Luke insists that such preaching presupposed the memory of the crucified Jesus in the repeated use of the phrase, “this Jesus”.

“This Jesus” points to a clearly identifiable man whose sentence of death was enacted within a particular political process and a widely known public event in which Luke’s audience took part. This audience was not neutral, not innocent, for there were no uninvolved bystanders. The apostles in Luke’s narrative are speaking to people with blood on their hands. i

The rhetoric of this preaching assumes that the hearers already belong in the story, that they were agents.

It is also clear that the whole of Acts has a particular focus on the city of Jerusalem. Acts preaches a ‘risen’ Christ directly to the people of that city, the people who condemned him to death, the people who deserted him, the people who killed him, the people who looked the other way.

In Luke, the people of Jerusalem are “Jews and gentiles alike”, the “kings of the earth” (personified by Pilate and Herod), and “all the house of Israel that are gathered in this city”. Judge, Jew and Roman, priest and people, king and commoner; it is the “city” thus constituted, that condemned and rejected God’s holy Child; and it is in this city that the crucified is now proclaimed as risen.

Now, to simplify a long story, the crucified and risen one returns as judge of the judges, of the city. The condemned and the court change places and the victim becomes the judge. That is the point where most of us stop. Hurrah for victory and vindication. But in this, Luke introduces a startling and very profound reversal. The resurrection of the condemned Jesus is presented by the disciples not as a threat but as a promise and a hope.ii

Although the city is under judgement as resisting God’s will, this does not mean that that the will of God ceases to be saving, even though the rulers and the people still “act in ignorance”. As Peter said to the delinquent crowd in the portico:

And now, friends, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your rulers. … Repent therefore, and turn to God … so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord,

When we make victims – condemn, exclude, violate, diminish or oppress anyone – when we set ourselves up as judges, we become citizens of Luke’s city, and we are exposed to judgement ourselves.

The problem arising is that when I see that I have exposed myself to judgement, I become my own victim, no less than the one I judge; and the judge-victim relationship needs to be liberated. That, really, is what salvation is all about.

One of the leitmotifs of all the NT accounts of Jesus’ trial is that Jesus did not use counter-violence of any sort. For example, the First Letter of Peter says “When he suffered, he did not threaten”. (1 Peter 2.23). And the Gospel of John elaborates this point in a sophisticated reconstruction of the whole concept of “judgement”.

The tradition is clear that Jesus tendered no violence to any who turned to him in hope: he accepts, he does not condemn, resist or exclude. “His life is defined as embodying an unconditional and universal acceptance, untrammelled by social, ritual or racial exclusiveness”iii. And Jesus’ silent resignation at his trial is underlined.

For John, Jesus is judge because he is a pure victim who can never inflict violence, only suffer it; which means that he is a judge who will not condemn.

The exaltation of Jesus to be judge, to share the ultimate authority of God, is thus God’s proclamation to all earthly judges to the condemning court and the hostile city, that it is the pure victim alone who can “carry” the divine love, the divine opposition to violence, oppression and exclusion.[1] God is always to be found with the powerless. And our hope is that God is to be found as we return to our victims seeking reconciliation, seeking to find in a renewed encounter with them the merciful and transforming judgement of Jesus, the “absolute victim.

It is only a hop and step to the realisation that this judge-cum-pure-victim, Jesus Christ, holds the memories of both judge and victim. And that is where I hoped to arrive, to a transformed manner of remembrance-in-relationship. If our remembrance process is to have any kind of integrity, it must surely include the memories of all who have been involved in our conflicts, be they personal, national or international; be they friend, foe, or non-combatant. The tomb of the unknown soldier is a mute, symbolic, testament to that.

Furthermore, on the national front, we might grace our ceremonies with the inclusion of the conflicts associated with the coming of white people to Australia. Otherwise, our ceremonies fail to recognise the fact that all the people of Australia are human. We share a common humanity, complete with its failings and its beauties. If we do not grasp this, we are not really open to the possibility of ordinary human relationship with an atrociously victimised group, the First People of this land.

The foundational ideology professed by all political parties at the time of Federation was blatantly racist. And although the white Australia policy was abolished in 1973, that racism remains a virulent force. Glenn Loughrey, Chair of the National Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islanders Anglican Council recently wrote:

The first People of this land remain outcasts on their own countries, suffering vilification and violence based solely on the contrived category of race. … Race defines who is competent or not and who has the power to decide; who is or is not a human being and who has the power to decide; and who is and is not seen and heard. ii

The “city” to which we belong, the Australian Jerusalem, the city of rejection, the city full of ordinary folk like you and me, would do well to approach our victims in humility, seeking healing and grace for all. What better place to start if not in our Remembrance Day ceremonies.

In the name of the Risen Crucified One.

Amen.   Doug Bannerman © 2022

[1] Rowan Williams Resurrection: Interpreting the Easter Gospel (London: Darton Longman and Todd 2002)  [1] Ibid  [1] Ibid  [1] ibid

[1] The Revd Canon Glenn Loughrey, “Wiradjuri Honouring Our Lost – Cassius Turvey “, November 2022. Glenn is the Chair of the National Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islanders Anglican Council

Luke 6.20-36
 

I only returned home last night from being in Orange where I assisted a really helpful and sincere Catholic priest conduct the funeral of a very close long-time Vietnam veteran pilot friend of mine. As with all funerals, this event achieved the aim of making it quite clear that, in this life, I won’t see my good mate Ken again. The funeral of Judy Scotcher was held in this building last Monday and it’s not long since our Parish celebrated the life of Sylvia Hannah. Funerals are reminders for us of the reality that life in this world ends. Funerals raise our hope for the life to come.

Today we are pretending that it is 1st November. We are celebrating the feast of All Saints and we remember the song “O, when the Saints go marching in … I want to be in that number”. 

At All Saints we give thanks and praise to God for giving the world the lives of the Saints that we remember. All the outstanding saints of history. But that’s not all; we praise God for the lives of the Saints around us right now and we praise God for Saints yet to come. We ask God for continued strength and focus that we too will really be in that number when the Saints go marching in.

There’s a part of this festival of All Saints that has us looking back and celebrating the remarkable things we know about God’s Saints; the blessings brought about by their lives. Unfortunately, we have let commercialisation cloud our thankfulness for saintly lives. There is smart advertising in our big chain stores and Halloween things being sold in most smaller shops. We have let our indifference to rejoicing in the Saints reduce this great celebration into kids dress ups and extorting big bags of lollies from anyone nice enough to open up their front door.

Well, this festival of All Saints isn’t just a smart marketing event by the Church. Saints are a reality! Not just the “big” saints we associate with the Roman Catholics such as St Francis and St Augustine. There hasn’t always been an emphasis on these big Saints with huge amounts of energy and time going into the process of declaring that someone such as Mary McKillop is our own special Australian official or canonised Saint.

The first Canonised saint was declared only just a little over a thousand years ago in AD  993. There are about 800 canonised Saints but also about 10,000 others; many who have died for their faith. There are 110 “martyred Saints” of China, 103 of Korea and 117 of Vietnam. Hundreds of Japanese Saints are remembered in Nagasaki who were persecuted and killed well before the atomic bomb. There are Mexican, Spanish, and French Revolutionary Saints and Saints who were missionaries in New Guinea.

For the Protestant Church, Saints are all those in heaven; anyone who is a Christian. Protestants generally think that Saints are everyone who belongs to the church (and other people too if they show an exceptional degree of holiness or likeness to God). Put simply, Saints are Holy people who are living now or have died but are remembered.

So, All Saints is a special celebration day for all Christians. This day reminds us that, when we come to a service at St Barts, our worship includes more than the people that we can physically see around us here. We are connected with people all over the world who are saying or singing “Holy, Holy, Holy, God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory”. 

It’s not just us here in Alstonville praising God. We are joined in spirit with people in millions of communities all around the country. All over the world!   

In the same way that some families are very close, even though they live in different towns and different countries, in our worship the Saints help us to feel close to the wider church. We celebrate that there are Saints in Lismore Parish and Murwillumbah Parish and in New Zealand, and in Switzerland. There are Saints right now trying to keep safe in Ukraine and Afghanistan and Lebanon and other dangerous places all around the world.

We celebrate this morning with the saints in the Baptist Church and the Uniting Church and Hillsong Church and the Roman Catholic church; Saints all around the world and even Saints above the earth. While Neil Armstrong took man’s first step on the Moon, ‘Buzz’ Aldrin (who was the pilot of the Lunar Module) took communion before he went down the ladder to be the second man to step foot on the Moon. The Presbyterian church that Buzz Aldrin attends still celebrates his communion service on the Moon every July. They still have the chalice that Buzz used on the moon. More recently, in 2017, a relic of St Serafim of Sarnov (a Russian Orthodox saint) was taken aboard the International Space Station by Russian cosmonaut Sergei Ryzhikov.

Not only are there “present-day” Saints in all Parishes and Denominations, but also in the Church throughout all time; the white robed army we remember. There is a multitude of Saints; “the communion of Saints” They are not just the ones we know and remember, but all the faithful departed. And we celebrate with all the Saints still to come.

Faith in Jesus draws us all together: “with all the company of heaven we praise your name!”

So why does our Lectionary ask us to hear this long reading from Luke (should I say Saint Luke) chapter 6 this morning? This message, that we know as the sermon on the plain, from Luke isn’t an easy lesson to take in.

Jesus says the poor and the hungry and people who weep are blessed (that is happy or joyful). And we are blessed if people hate you and exclude you and revile you because you follow Jesus. Jesus says we should leap for joy about that because our reward is great in heaven. What Jesus is saying is that you don’t have a truly blessed life from getting things or owning things or doing things. We will have a blessed life from being a person with a godlike character (a Saint).

This teaching from Jesus wasn’t just for the people he was talking to back then. This is very applicable to our lives today. It’s describing the kind of Godly character we should have as believers in this world. To be gentle, to mourn, to be merciful, to thirst for what is right, to be a peacemaker is a sign of the presence of God in our lives.

What Jesus did was to focus on attitudes. Our attitude toward circumstances, people, ourselves and God. Jesus wants us to see that we have a choice. We can choose either present gratification or future blessings. It’s our decision! Either short term satisfaction or long term blessing.

In this teaching, Jesus describes four “woes”. These woes all share a common truth. You take what you want from life and you pay for it. If you want wealth, fullness, laughter and popularity, you can have it but there is a price to pay: that is all you will get! Jesus didn’t say that these things were wrong. He said that being satisfied with them is its own judgement.

This lesson isn’t for us as individuals. All the “yous” here are plural. In Aussie language it is “youse”. Jesus is speaking to the disciples as an assembly, a group. Jesus teaches all his people as a church.

As you enter Winchester cathedral in England, a sign says “you are entering a conversation that began long before you were born and will continue long after you’re dead.” To be a Christian partly means that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel. We don’t have to make up this faith as we go along in our lives. The saints will teach us, if we will listen.

This brings us back to the very point of why we are asked to celebrate All Saints today. We see the love of God in all God’s Saints and we are given hope because of the lives that they have lived. We see the wonder of God in all God’s Saints and we are able to learn because of them. We see the beauty of God in all God’s Saints and we are able to be better Christians as we follow their examples.

As we get ready “to join that number as we all go marching in”!

Luke 18.9-14

Why are we so busy? Why are we working so hard? Are we working so hard because we want to be “successful”? What is a successful life? Some say we work so hard to get ahead, or get on top, but get ahead of what? What are we trying to get on top of? At 2am when you are suddenly more awake than you will ever be for the rest of the day, what questions churn across your mind? What fears and anxieties tumble and turn across your dark imagination? Many listening are retired yet are busier now than they ever were when they had careers. Why the busyness? What is it we are hiding from?

Questions regarding our busyness, our hard work, our over stimulated minds are essential for our humanity, let alone our Christian discipleship. Jesus is riding the escalator down while we are riding the escalator up. As Brian McLaren puts it, “The Kingdom of God is about God’s Kingdom being done on Earth. It’s not a plan of upward mobility and how we get to Heaven but about how God’s Kingdom comes down to Earth … it’s a downward movement.”

There are many examples of success, people who are riding the escalator up. Warren Buffet and his success with money is an example of success, as is Bill Gates and Jeff Bizos.  Two weeks ago Liz Truss may have been an example of political success. In the age of social media Instagram celebrities are an example of success.

Essena O’Neil, a young adult, born 1996, is from Coolum on the Sunshine Coast. In 2015 she was a successful model and social media star with more than 600, 000 followers on YouTube and peaking at around 1 million followers on Instagram before she deleted all social media accounts. "I've spent the majority of my teenage life being addicted to social media, social approval, social status, and my physical appearance, " O'Neill writes in her last Instagram post on October 27, "[Social media] is contrived images and edited clips ranked against each other. It's a system based on social approval, likes, validation, in views, success in followers. It's perfectly orchestrated self-absorbed judgement."

https://www.elle.com/culture/news/a31635/essena-oneill-instagram-social-media-is-not-real-life/. Essena left social media because it was toxic for her. Thousands of followers wanted to be just like her. Success, when it is based on how many likes and followers you have, and how, after 100 selfies you have achieved the perfect picture, is not enough. 

Essena, Bill Gates, Jeff Bizos and Warren Buffet all have had success. Now imagine that they have received enlightenment, they have read the Gospel, had an encounter with the risen Christ, and now base their lives totally on God. They live their lives totally for the kingdom of God. They sell all their wealth, give it to the poor and begin a life dedicated to prayer, mediation and serving the poorest of the poor. Would a life of total self-sacrifice be following the path of Christ downwards? Would that be real success? Would that be true humanity, living authentic discipleship? Let us turn to the parable and wrestle some more.

Jesus says, "Two men went up to the temple to pray. One of them was a Pharisee. The other was a tax collector." The tax collector is the most hated person in all Jerusalem. He is like the Mafia. He is a sell out and a Crook. He is very wealthy and not a cent he owns is earned honestly. The Roman Government tells him what he must accumulate by way of tax. The rest of the “tax” he collects is his fee and he determines the price. He is so hated that he probably rarely leaves home without a bodyguard.         

The Pharisee on the other hand is the most loved person in all Jerusalem. He is a success. The pharisee is an amazing father, a brilliant husband, a religious man loved and respected by the poor and community. The Pharisee stands by himself, and he prays, and he says, "God, I thank you that I am not like other people. I am not a thief. I am not a rogue. I am not an adulterer. I am certainly not like this tax collector over here. I fast twice a week. I give away a tenth of my income." That is his speech.

Then the tax collector says (he won't look up to the heaven; he looks at his shoe tips), "God be merciful to me a sinner." Then Jesus says, "I tell you this man (the tax collector) went to his house justified rather than the other.

Jesus says, "Two men went up to the temple to pray. One of them was a Pharisee. The other was a tax collector”: Jesus has set you up. The examples of the pharisee and the tax collector are hyperbolic, comedy satire and extreme caricatures. Parables such as the tax collector and pharisee are like fried eggs. Over easy parables, like over easy eggs, leave you with egg on your face. The parable could simply be an example of the virtue of humility. But is humility the point of the parable?

The mention of the pharisee is the first warning that we are walking into an interpretation trap. Although in a Biblical context a pharisee may be a loved and respected person, we have been conditioned to be suspicious of the pharisees. We have been taught to be wary of their hypocrisy, their religiosity, the way they place the needs of the Bible over the needs of people, their tendency to oversimplify the world into good and bad, right and wrong, black and white, with little possibility for grey. Thus as we hear or read the parable of the pharisee and the tax collector we may subconsciously be praying: “dear God thank you that I am not like this pharisee, thank you that I am not so self-righteous, thank you that I do not boast about my piety like he does, thank you that I am humble like this tax collector…thank you that I am a sheep, and you are my shepherd.” Luke 18.9-14 is an incredibly difficult parable to preach, least of all because it so well worn and familiar. The second we divide any aspect of creation into any kind of groups: goodies and baddies, insiders and outsiders, progressives and conservatives, helpful plants and insects vs less helpful plants and annoying flies, midges and mosquitos, native species vs alien invaders and noxious weeds, native marsupials vs feral dogs, rabbits, rats and pigs … we are standing boots and all in the camp of the pharisees (see I have already made my own mistake…sigh). Every time we hear a story of suffering and think “there but for the grace of God go I” we are standing alongside the pharisee. We hear and see stories of destruction and recovery from the flood survivors, and we think “there but for the grace of God go I”… we have somehow stepped into the shoes of the pharisees because we have divided the world into those who need help and those who don’t.  

By the way – the point of the parable is not about humility. Nor is Jesus reprimanding the Pharisee for showing off. At no point does Jesus disagree with the pharisee. The pharisee is 100 percent correct. He is righteous. Righteous means successful. The pharisee is a successful man. He has understood the law and lived it. The pharisee is living a good life, an authentic life, he is exercising his gratitude for all the goodness he enjoys. The problem is, as Jesus sees it, is that the Pharisee thinks his good deeds, his success at living, can give him meaning, can give him purpose, and can heal the world. The problem is not the pharisee or the tax collector, but religion.

The essential message is this: Jesus comes to end religion. And as long as we remain religious we will never inherit the kingdom of God, which is always at hand, always present, always within, always abundantly available, all the time, in all places to all people.  The kingdom of God is like air, it is always there, always, and everywhere available but difficult to contain, to catch and to possess.

Humankind is desperately religious. What is religion? Religion means that we believe that there is something we can do from our side that can fix our relationship with Jesus or fill the emptiness we feel or force meaning into our lives. God is not going to risk mending the entire universe on the merits of good behaviour, on successful programs and successful people. Religion is the best thing in the world and the worst thing. That which makes you holy also makes you evil. For example Paul writes in his letter to the Romans how Israel is looking for a righteousness derived from the law. It failed. Why? Because they relied on being good rather than trust. Success, law, or religion has no power to transform the world. Law, religion, success in whatever form is not going to change the world. Lastness, leastness, lostness, littleness: being a loser, being dead to self, are what open us to the possibility of peace, transformation, and well-being. For this reason, Jesus is not upset with sinners, religion is upset with sinners. Jesus is only upset with those that think they are not sinners – mostly the religious. Doing it wrong and mercy is what takes us to God.

The story is a parable about the futility of religion, the futility of success as we define it: that there isn’t anything at all that we can do to put ourselves right with God, there is little we can do to heal the emptiness or anxiety or fear or a lack of meaning and purpose.

Why is the tax collector justified?  What is it about him that opens him to justification? I think it has something to do with emptiness, something to do with reaching the end of your own resources, knowing that you have tried everything and knowing you need help. The biblical word for this is death. The only way that we can be reconciled to God, the only way we can live a full and meaningful life, is through death. How will we be saved by being dead? Being dead – dead to self, dead to religion, dead to thinking that our good deeds will help, dead to any ideas of success, finally makes us empty enough to be filled with the presence of God.

That is the message of the parable – when we are empty enough for God, God’s Grace transforms. God’s grace rushes in and changes us from the inside out. God’s grace changes the world. Grace is God’s acceptance of us. What does a prayer of an empty one look like? Perhaps we can pray with Merton:

My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,

though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though
I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.

I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

“The Merton Prayer” from Thoughts in Solitude Copyright © 1956, 1958 by The Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani. Used by permission of Farrar Straus Giroux.

Today’s gospel reading, the so-called parable of the Persistent Widow, occurs near the end of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem and immediately follows his teaching about the coming of God’s kingdom. Despite the shift to the topic of prayer, the eschatological thread of the previous passage is sustained. In brief, it offers the imperative of persistently and actively relying on God, even in the face of insufferable injustice.

The parable itself focuses on a widow dealing with a judge in a corrupt judicial system. The widow repeatedly approaches the judge in pursuit of justice to no avail, and, the judge, equally persistently, ignores her pleas. The judge ignores the law and the prophets, which unambiguously include provisions to ensure that widows, orphans, the poor, and resident aliens do not become victims of exploitation.[i]

Jesus’ audience, would have found the judge’s lack of action particularly scandalous. Notably, however, this widow strongly resists such exploitation.

Like other widows before her, such as Tamar, Ruth and Naomi (not to mention other heroines throughout history), Luke’s widow takes matters into her own hands. And her persistence in pressing for justice is such that the judge characterizes her actions as those of a boxer.[ii] In the original Greek, the judge comes to fear that the widow will give him a black eye (hypopiazo) [iii], a boxing metaphor. And let us note that Paul uses exactly the same word when he writes, “so I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating air.[iv]

English translations quench the humour Luke has infused into this scene; a humour which pokes fun at the powers that be, “lampooning and upending the unjust system stacked against widows, orphans, immigrants.”[v] The equivalent of modern-day political cartoons, which use humour and satire to make their point.

The conclusion of the parable touches on the character of God and the nature of faith. “God is … not like this reluctantly responsive judge. If anything, God is more like the widow in her own relentless commitment to justice.”[vi]

OK. That was the nuts-and-bolts bit; but there are many rabbit holes to explore.

Last week, Desiree reminded us that in-between-spaces are spaces of transformation. And if you have ever been down a rabbit hole, you would know that it is chock full of them. More like the mythical labyrinth built for King Minos of Crete by Daedalus, the mythical Greek inventor, architect, and sculptor. Daedalus became a symbol of wisdom, knowledge and power.

Behold the inner life of an introvert. The rabbit hole I happened upon started with the term “persistent prayer”, thence to meander through Thessalonians, Isaiah, Kings, a Psalm,  and finally the Book of Wisdom. Thus: (Paul)[vii] Pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances. … Do not quench the Spirit– (Isaiah) [viii]  A bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice – (1 Kings)[ix] But the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence – (Psalm 46) [x] Be still and know that I am God.

The thread I followed started with prayer without ceasing and arrived at stillness and silence, with justice neatly book ended in between.

Of course, we encounter silence in everyday life, say, in response to unwelcome news of one sort or another. News of the death of a loved one always renders me silent, as do the associated memories; the silence at the end of a really good concert or play speaks volumes about our collective awe and appreciation; and sometimes we are silent simply because we do not know what to say or do.

The common factor in these kinds of silence is a loss of power. For example, how do I normalise the knowledge that I’m going to die, or that someone I love is going to die, or that a loved one has died? I cannot. The human trait is to try to “do the right thing” in response to critical moments in order to stop them being critical.

But such attempts to control or domesticate critical situations diminishes our humanity, reinforcing a false self, rather than accessing our true self and beyond. As Rowan Williams[xi] pointed out, if we wish to develop and grow as human beings, then we must accept moments when we are taken beyond the familiar and the controllable. True humanity welcomes silence as an in-between space, if you like; a space of learning, wisdom and growth.

I often find pearls of wisdom in unlikely places. My latest source is one of the Percy Jackson novels I am currently bingeing on. They were published around ten years ago, so if you have grandchildren, you may know them. In a modern world inhabited by the mythical Greek gods of yore, Hestia, the goddess of the hearth who is responsible for domesticity, the family, the home and the state, says to Percy, “Not all powers are spectacular. Sometimes the hardest power to master is the power of yielding.”[xii]

It is more than profitable then, to yield to the experience of silence that leaves you with nothing to say, “the experience of helplessness about who you are, the experience of death and suffering, or [the] experience of extraordinary depth and beauty,” being up against what cannot be mastered and managed. Ultimately, “everybody is silent in the face of the utterly unmanageable, which is God.” [xiii]

As with Jesus when he was silent before Pilate, our silence becomes a place in the world where the mystery of God is present. We literally become a place where the mystery of God happens.

“Good liturgy is about silence.”[xiv] Increasingly, the church at large has felt a kind of anxiety about silence; an urge to fill up the apparent void elicited by silence; to clutter up the beauty of liturgy with needless activity. You have only to listen to a monastic community singing the compline service to appreciate the value of silent spaces in liturgy. Like white spaces in the printed word, silent spaces in the liturgy reveal depths of meaning otherwise unremarked.

A lot of liturgical reform is a response to this discomfort with silence. Trim it; it’s too long. It’s difficult; so we must explain it. I don’t understand it; so we must simplify it. But in doing so much of our church has lost sight of the ways in which the slow pace and the carefully chosen word, however mysterious, have their own integrity and their own effect.

Again, to quote Williams, “Coming out of liturgy and saying, ‘Did I do that?’ is a perfectly proper experience. Something happens that nobody in particular has done.” And I am delighted to say that that is a frequent experience of mine in this place.

Somewhere, Thomas Berry remarked that our own interior life began when the universe began, that we are further elaborations of a spirituality that was there from the beginning. So, I conclude with the last place of my introverted rabbit hole meanderings – a little bit of Wisdom.

For while gentle silence enveloped all things,  and night in its swift course was now half gone, your all-powerful word leapt from heaven … [xv]

Doug Bannerman © 2022

[i] For example, Exodus 22:21-25; 23:6-9; Deuteronomy 24:14, 17-18; Isaiah 1:17

[ii] Brittany Wilson op cit

[iii] the verb hypopiazo (ὑπωπιάζω) literally means “to give a black eye”.

[iv] 1 Corinthians 9.26

[v] F. Scott Spencer Salty Wives, Spirited Mothers, and Savvy Widows: Capable Women of Purpose and Persistence in Luke’s Gospel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 292-93.

[vi] Op cit Brittany Wilson

[vii] 1 Thessalonians 5.17-19

[viii] Isaiah 42.3

[ix] 1 Kings 19.11-13 

[x] Psalm 46.10

[xi] Rowan Williams “Encounter in the Face of Mystery: God is the Encounter we cannot Control”, see https://www.christiancentury.org/article/critical-essay/silence-face-mystery

[xii] Rick Riordan Percy Jackson and the Last Olympian (Penguin Random House/ UK 2018) p92

[xiii] Op cit Rowan Williams

[xiv] Ibid

[xv] Wisdom 18.14,15a

Luke 17.11-19
The Nine Grateful Lepers

For as long as I can remember, the memory of the hymn, Now thank we all our God, has caused goosebumps down my spine. I don’t know why, perhaps it’s the words, perhaps it’s the feeling of singing it with others, belting out in competition with a good organist on an overpowering organ. Or maybe it is the sheer gratitude of being part of God’s love, gratitude for the extreme abundance I can share in, delight at being alive and joy at being in the energy of that love:

Now thank we all our God

with hearts and hands and voices…

who from our mothers' arms
has blessed us on our way
with countless gifts of love,
and still is ours today.

When I first discovered something of the background of Now thank we all our God, maybe it had something to do with the way it was told, it broke my heart, I can honestly say that the knowledge brought tears to my face.

The earliest projected date for the hymn is 1636 and the latest 1663 meaning that it was written in the context of the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648). Martin Rinckart (1586-1649) was a musician, and a priest in the city of Eilenburg at the time of the Thirty-year war. As one of the last surviving priests, it was left to Martin to perform the multitude of funerals during the height of the plague and stretch his personal resources to provide for the orphaned children and refugees in his city. Martin wrote the hymn so his children would have something to sing at the dinner table. While providing shelter for other victims of war, famine, and the plague, with the Swedes besieging the city and demanding and insurmountable ransom, Martin and his family stare down at the scraps of dinner that will do very little to appease their hunger and sing together the hymn Now thank we all our God with hearts and hands and voices. The story behind the hymn breaks my heart, and the depth of Martin’s gratitude joins the goosebumps down my spine to tears down my face.

It is with the hymn Now thank we all our God humming in the background that I read Luke’s text in 17.11-19. At first, this text might lend itself to a simple message about gratitude. We can now update the ancient text on gratitude with 21st century research on the benefits of an attitude of gratitude and how gratitude can reconfigure the brain. Although the hymn Now thank we all our God is still humming like an ear wig, the invitation from the text niggles beyond gratitude. Luke’s Gospel has as a centrifugal force the experience of seeing the world differently. What exactly is it beyond gratitude that I am meant to be seeing?

Jesus is in an in-between place, he is on the way to Jerusalem, to where the climax of the gospel takes place, but he is in nowhere land between Samaria and Galilee. The in-between place is a textual clue for us, it is a space of transformation. You have heard the text preached enough times to know that lepers were more than physically unclean, they were socially and spiritually unclean too. There is no sadder oppression than when the oppressed accept the categories of their outsider status and perpetuate their own oppression. Here the lepers accept the status as total outsiders and participate in their own exclusion, shouting “unclean” in warning, ringing bells to warn people of their presence, and speaking to Jesus from a distance. The lepers call Jesus “Master” which is a term used by the disciples. Luke implies that the lepers are also disciples. As per the Torah, Jesus sends the ten to the priest, who not only confirm the physical healing but also institute the social and spiritual healing. By virtue of the priest’s declaration, the healed lepers could resume temple worship and participate in community life. The catharsis (katharizo in Greek to cleanse) happens on the way to the temple. It is here where the story is interesting and something more niggles at my attention, something I am supposed to see but do not yet see.

I have a hunch that all ten were utterly grateful for their experience of cleansing, healing, catharsis. Some Bibles add an unwelcome commentary to the translation and may demarcate this section of Luke’s Gospel 17.11-19 as “the Thankful leper”, which is why a sermon on gratitude while helpful may also be cliched because it stops the excavation into the text too soon. I have every confidence that all ten were thankful - the heading could be ten thankful lepers.

If I step into the story, I find myself running with the nine to the temple in gratitude, to sing Now thank we all our God louder than ever. I run with gratitude to the temple with the nine for very good reasons: Jesus said to go to the temple and meet with the priest. It would not occur to me to think differently or act beyond that. While the physical healing may be a welcome relief, it is the restoration to spiritual healing and joining in community that the temple and the priest offer. The priest and the temple offer the end of exclusion. I would also naturally run with gratitude to the priest and the temple for it represents a comfortable space for me, a familiar space. I have been part of the temple for so long, I can’t imagine not being part of it. In total gratitude, I would arrive at the priest in the temple and sing Now thank we all our God with my nine friends, and, if I am honest, it would take me a long while to notice that the Samaritan is missing. In truth, I might even be glad that he was left behind, his presence might be awkward, it might even spoil the celebration. It is at this point that I stop short, and the sword of the scripture begins its surgery, piercing my newly healed flesh right to the point where bone and marrow meet.

It would be guilt that would make me turn back to look for the lost leper. I would be irritated. As Luke describes, if I turned back to look for the lost leper and invite him into the temple secretly hoping he maybe had a wedding to go to, I could witness the wonder and worship of the Samaritan at the feet of Jesus. With a jolt, it may remind me of the other songs in Luke, the Gloria the angels sang at Jesus birth with the shepherds, the blessing Elizabeth sang when Jesus moved in utero. For the third time Jesus says, “your faith has saved you”. For the first time in Luke’s Gospel Jesus has said it to a man. In Luke 7.50 and 8.48 Jesus says “your faith has healed you” to a woman who anointed his feet and a woman saved from a twelve-year haemorrhage. In Luke 18.42 Jesus will say “Your faith has healed you” to a man born blind who calls him “Son of David”. Luke likes writing in doublets, two women, two men, Samaritan, and Jew. The doublets speak to the radical inclusivity of the Jesus mission.

Watching the scene unfolding with the Samaritan praising God and having the blessing announced your faith has made you well gives me pause to look and see, seeing is the goal of Luke’s Gospel. I would wonder about the Samaritan’s gift at seeing the world differently. What is it about him that he was caught up in awe and wonder and responded from the gut to turn around and go back to Jesus. Having encountered catharsis and the cosmic Christ in the in-between space beyond the confines of the church, how often do I return to the familiarity of predictable institutions, almost as a way to control the avalanche of the spiritual waters. In our spiritual journeys Jesus often asks us to step out of the boat and walk on water, an invitation to take an adventure on a path with no footprints beyond the confines of religion, what holds us back?

Perhaps it is no surprise that the Samaritan fell behind and didn’t make it to the temple. He is after all, a double loser. Even after being physically healed, he is still a Samaritan, a spiritual and social leper. I have forgotten to notice the ways that my temple, that my way of being might exclude others. I’m so used to the liturgical space and so familiar with the internal culture that my busyness can make me a bit lazy in noticing the discomfort of others. There are so many that pause at the doorway and want to come in but don’t. There are those who carry the hurt, those who don’t know the responses, those who don’t obey the rules that are so familiar to the rest of us we have forgotten to write them down, Church can be a scary place.

Today it is for the Samaritans that I sing Now thank we all our God. It is the Samaritans whose faith will save me. I need to find them, they are not in the temple, but is the Samaritans who have faith enough to heal me too. I am not alone in the search for the Samaritan who will save me, BBT searches with me too:

“ ‘Where are the nine’ Jesus asks, but I know where they are. ‘Where is the tenth leper?’ That is what I want to know. Where is the one who followed his heart instead of his instructions, who accepted his life as a gift and gave it back again, whose thanksgiving rose up from somewhere so deep inside him that it turned him around, changed his direction, led him to Jesus, made him well?’

“Where are the nine?? Where is the tenth?! Where is the disorderly one who failed to go along with the crowd, the impulsive one who fell on his face in the dirt, the fanatical one who loved God so much that obedience was beside the point? Where did that one go? Not that I am likely to go after him. It is safer here with the nine—we know the rules and who does what. We are the ones upon whom the institution depends. But the missing one, the one who turned back, or was turned away, or turned against—where did he go? Who is he, and whom is he with, and what does he know that we do not know? Where are the nine? We are here, right here. But where, for the love of God, is the tenth?”

Habakkuk 1.1-4, 2.1-4 and Luke 17.5-10
God is waiting for us.

Elton John wrote the following, about 40 years ago (listen here: https://youtu.be/WnoadNUs1gQ)

 

"If There's A God In Heaven (What's He Waiting For)"

Torn from their families
Mothers go hungry
To feed their children
But children go hungry
There's so many big men
They're out making millions
When poverty's profits
Just blame the children

If there's a God in heaven
What's he waiting for?
If He can't hear the children
Then he must see the war
But it seems to me
That he leads his lambs
To the slaughter house
And not the promised land

Dying for causes
They don't understand
We've been taking their futures
Right out of their hands
They need the handouts
To hold back the tears
There's so many crying
But so few that hear

If there's a God in heaven
What's he waiting for? …

Myanmar. Yemen. Ukraine. Nuclear threat. Syria. Kabul. Social media and the rampant increase of teenage suicide. The incarceration of children. The lack of rights for refugees. LGBTQIA+ discrimination. Race discrimination. The rape of children because of the myth that sex with a virgin cures HIV... With the prophet we might also say:

” 2 O Lord, how long shall I cry for help,
         and you will not listen?
Or cry to you ‘Violence!’
     and you will not save?”

Alternatively, we might say with a prophet from 40 years ago, Elton John:

“If there's a God in heaven
What's he waiting for?
If He can't hear the children
Then he must see the war
But it seems to me
That he leads his lambs
To the slaughterhouse
And not the promised land”

Think about the ways we continue to safeguard polluters in an age of unprecedented fires and floods where governments have either ignored or at worst buried warnings on impending natural disasters. According to the Australia Institute, gas companies paid us about 2 billion for our gas in royalties but then sold it back to us for 68 billion, excellent profit. Add to that 2/3 of the taxes were not paid on the gas exported from WA. In other words, they were getting the gas for free AND not paying income tax or resource rent tax. Those of us who paid income tax last year, paid more than Shell, Chevron, Santos, Exxon, Inpex and APLNG paid on a combined 50 billion income. Last year the government spent more money subsidising fossil fuels that it spent on the public school system. With the prophet we might also say: 

3 Why do you make me see wrongdoing
           and look at trouble?
Destruction and violence are before me;
     strife and contention arise.
4 So the law becomes slack
     and justice never prevails.
The wicked surround the righteous—
     therefore judgement comes forth perverted.

Alternatively, with Elton John we might lament,

“We've been taking their futures
Right out of their hands
They need the handouts
To hold back the tears
There's so many crying
But so few that hear”

Have you ever asked Elton John’s question? Where is God when it hurts? Where is God? Why doesn’t God show up? While Habakkuk is an obscure prophet writing in a time when Israel was about to be conquered by the Babylonians in the war of 585, there are echoes for us in 21st century Australia, not least because of the war in Ukraine with the worry that it will either turn nuclear or spill over into a world war with the West supporting Ukraine and China and North Korea supporting Putin.

According to the prophets, faith is what sustains us amidst the trials and tribulations of the dark side of history… “but the righteous live by their faith.” But what is faith? And how do we speak of faith and love and mercy without making a mockery of those who have suffered unimaginable cruelty?

At some point in the evolution of Christianity faith took a wrong turn and hit a dead end. Some might blame St Paul, or Augustine, or Thomas Aquinas or the Councils of Chalcedon and Nicaea, but we reached a point where faith changed. Instead of faith being a living breathing connection, a resting in the oneness of the divine, faith became an ascent to a set of beliefs. As Anglicans, those belief statements are summarised in the creed. As a Methodist, belief is that we are justified by grace through faith not works, that all people can be justified by grace through faith and that people can be sanctified to the uttermost – what Wesley called Christian perfection. But is belief enough for faith? If belief = faith, I’m in big trouble. Although I have a thick lever arch file on sermons describing being saved by grace through faith I’m not sure what that means any more. As for the creed, well, I had to agree with it at the time of my ordination, but really, Christianity flourished for 400 hundred years without the Nicene Creed and in our post, post-modern era I’m wondering if it isn’t time to rethink the whole thing? Whatever faith is it has to be more than ascent to a set of beliefs.

"Increase our faith," say the apostles.  What does that mean? And how do you measure an increase in faith? Might one pray: “Lord I have only three kilograms of faith please can you increase my faith, and can I have four kilograms more?” Or is faith measured in litres ? in which case one might pray: “My faith is just 300 ml Lord please can I have a litre more?” How do you increase faith anyway?

In Luke 15 and 16 Jesus has been addressing the pharisees and challenging their acquisition of wealth that leads to them dehumanising others. In Luke 17 Jesus addresses the disciples, who listened to Jesus’ teaching in Luke 15 and 16. While the disciples may not be piling up money, they are still in a reward and punishment mindset. The disciples clearly don’t get it, and their plea disguises their unease at the thought of being gracious, merciful, and forgiving 7 times 77 times. The kingdom of God is not about acquisition and attaining more of anything – quite the opposite – it is about surrender, letting go and allowing the self to die. The disciples may have listened to the teaching Jesus offered the pharisees and learnt the lessons and given up on mammon, greed, and accumulation of wealth. To replace the accumulation of wealth with the accumulation of faith still misses the point as it is still part of a mindset that expects a reward for work. This is what Jesus means when he says if you had the faith of a mustard seed you could do many things. In other words, you don’t need “more” faith, you have what you need, the tiniest amount is enough. In fact, I would go so far as to say less will do – less trying, less piety, less moral judgement, less intensity, less belief, less faith even so that there is more space, more nothing, more surrender, more forgiveness. The example Jesus gives of not rewarding slaves for what they were already doing is a further challenge to meritocracy. The system of reward and punishment is what Jesus wants to abolish for grace to flourish. 

I stated earlier that for me faith is not an assent to belief. I hinted at my own experience of faith as being connection with God, resting in God, surrender in God, an ultimate meaning that is beyond the relative circumstances of history. I compare this experience of faith as connection, resting and surrender to floating in water – one of the most relaxing and energising experiences I enjoy. One of the hardest aspects of teaching someone to swim is encouraging them to trust the buoyancy of the water enough to float. The irony with learning to float is that the harder you try the worse it against, the harder you want to float the less able you are. Floating happens through non-effort and surrender. Here then is my experience of faith. In order to float in the arms of faith, I have to let go a little, give up on certainty, give up on doubt even, give up on understanding everything and just put my arms out and float. What do I mean by this? You may have heard me describe before the difference between faith and belief with reference to the tight rope walker Charles Blondin. Charles crossed the Niagara Falls between Canada and the USA on a tight rope several times, including backwards and returning with a wheelbarrow. When he asked the audience if they believed he could carry a person in the wheelbarrow across the tightrope of course the crowd shouted yes. When he asked for a volunteer, no one trusted enough. While the crowds had belief in Charles ability, none had faith enough to sit in the wheelbarrow while being pushed across. Denise Levertov paints in poetry the faith I sometimes struggle to articulate:

As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.

(This poem is from Oblique Prayers, copyright ©1984 by Denise Levertov, and also appears in Levertov’s The Stream and the Sapphire: Selected Poems on Religious Themes.)

P.S:

1. For research on the link between social media and increased teenage suicide read:

-      Social media and the rampant increase of teenage suicide (see Memon AM, Sharma SG, Mohite SS, Jain S. The role of online social networking on deliberate self-harm and suicidality in adolescents: A systematized review of literature. Indian J Psychiatry. 2018 Oct-Dec;60(4):384-392. doi: 10.4103/psychiatry.IndianJPsychiatry_414_17. PMID: 30581202; PMCID: PMC6278213.).

-      Sedgwick, Rosemarya,b; Epstein, Sophiea,b; Dutta, Rinab,c; Ougrin, Dennisa,b. Social media, internet use and suicide attempts in adolescents. Current Opinion in Psychiatry: November 2019 - Volume 32 - Issue 6 - p 534-541. doi: 10.1097/YCO.0000000000000547

2. Information on how the government were briefed about impending flood disasters can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvFy2TuPDaw

3. For action on the incarceration of children sign a petition here: https://action.amnesty.org.au/act-now/raise-the-age

4. A summary on research analysis by the Australia Institute indicating the exploitation of Gas companies can be watched here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCFMy7rXlgw.

5. Podcasts by Juice Media at https://www.thejuicemedia.com/, The Australia Institute Website at https://australiainstitute.org.au, and their Spinbin YouTube videos are also useful avenues of information.