|Do not worry about your food! Payment in kind. |
It may not buy school uniforms, but it does feed the family.
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Before we moved to Warrnambool, we lived in an area of Melbourne which was a hive of ethical activity. Our clothes were locally made or from the op shop. We rode our bikes to buy direct trade coffee, then ducked into organic wholefoods for some ethical groceries. What we couldn’t buy there, we’d get at the IGA, after checking each company against our sustainable supermarket guide. We grew our greens and herbs; experimented with Community Supported Agriculture, but got sick of all those potatoes; so opted into a local veggie box instead. Our honey came from local hives; our socks were made in Brunswick; we purchased gifts from local artisans; our furniture was second hand. Even our house renovation appeared in a green architecture magazine. There were times when we were so ethical, it makes me sick. Of course, we lived this way because we were trying to be followers of Jesus—and because we were surrounded by people also seeking to live more sustainably, the critical mass made it easy. But every now and then, or maybe quite a lot, I’d feel someone, probably me, rolling her eyes because a coffee wasn’t fair, or a chair was from IKEA, or the eggs were from battery hens—and I’d wonder if I’d missed the point.
Sunday, February 19, 2017
|The Second Mile. This incredibly confronting image |
was found at journeyswiththemessiah.org
Once upon a time, I was sitting in a class at the theological college when the concept of ‘love your enemy’ came up. The pastor of a large church became annoyed and said, “I’ve got no idea why we waste time talking about this. We’re Christians—we have no enemies!” His comment revealed what is actually a fairly common idea: Those of us who are not actively oppressed by a violent regime, and who work very hard to be nice, often think we love everyone. But is this true? And can we throw the whole idea of loving our enemy out?
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
A reflection on Matthew 5:27-37, by Joel Rothman.
Given to Sanctuary, 12 February 2017.
When I was almost 12 years old I discovered a big thick novel called Magician, and from the moment I picked it up I couldn’t put it down. For 800 pages I was engrossed in a different world, a world of dragons and magic, fear and bravery, love and loss, and an epic adventure through a world very different to our own…And finally the threads of the story were tied together in a grand conclusion. From that time I was hooked. I read book after book, each opening up a different world. Each was similar to the last in many respects, and yet at the same time radically new. After Magician I was lost in The Wheel of Time, and Game of Thrones, the Shannara Chronicles and Lord of the Rings. Many of those books have now been made into movies or high-budget TV series, and you can see it on the screen. But back then I saw it all in my head.
More recently I’ve been exploring the idea of reading scripture the way I read these novels. What if we read scripture as a story? Can we see how this passage follows from the one before? Can we see how the narrative threads lead into the next? And the dialogues too. What if they aren’t just independent, philosophical dissertations – what if we read them as part of the story? Part of the dialogue between the characters in the story?
Sunday, January 29, 2017
Last week, the annual Australia Day Honours List was announced: a list of people recognised for their contribution to our nation. So it is timely that in tonight’s reading, Jesus gives us his own honours list: the people honoured for the way they embody and contribute to God’s culture. The Australia Day Honours List usually includes politicians, military officers, scientists, sports stars, charity workers, artists, businesspeople, and others. Who do we find on Jesus’ honours list? Well, as you can imagine, it’s a bit different.
First up on Jesus’ list are the people who have no sense of entitlement. We all know people with a strong sense of entitlement: they are arrogant and proud. They grab at everything, but they are never satisfied. On the other hand, those who know that life is a gift and that the world owes them nothing will be constantly delighted by God’s goodness, and always eager to share. And so of course they are honoured in God’s culture!
Next, we find people who enter into their grief. You might have noticed that those who shy away from their suffering become brittle and hard; but those who face up to their suffering learn much about themselves and others. They often discover God’s extraordinary comfort, and learn compassion, a compassion which they pour out on the world. Their compassion softens hearts all around them, and they are greatly loved—and they are honoured in God’s culture!
On Jesus’ list, we find people who engage in nonviolence, and who hunger and thirst for justice. For those who refuse to participate in the violence of the world align themselves with Jesus. They have caught a vision of a life greater than their own; this vision will give their own lives great meaning, and they will be deeply satisfied. And they are honoured in God’s culture!
We also find the contemplative, for they have turned their backs on the rat race, and opened their hearts and minds to the love of God. By taking the time to pray, and facing up to their own shadows, they see God’s face: and so they are honoured in God’s culture!
Of course, the people honoured by God are not the people most often honoured in our society. Some of the people on this year’s honours list might fit the bill, but many of our leaders do not. A quick flick through any newsfeed suggests that we usually value other qualities instead. Jesus honours the humble, the peacemaker, the compassionate and the just, but we seem to reward the arrogant, the wealthy, the hard-hearted and the corrupt, placing them into positions of leadership and remunerating them greatly. Yet too many of our leaders are bullies, braggarts and liars. Too many refuse genuine dialogue; they speak only to tear others down, build themselves up, and win political points. Too few show compassion; too few take responsibility for their actions; too few have a vision of a just world.
Next week, we will be choosing leaders for our congregation, and I hope it’s a no-brainer when I say that we are not looking for the arrogant and the proud! But what are we looking for? The book of Acts tells of a time when the early church needed to appoint people to positions of responsibility. The apostles decided not to select the new leaders themselves. Instead, they asked the congregation to choose from among them people of “good standing, full of the Spirit and wisdom” (Acts 6:3). Not people with a particular skill set, not the privileged, but those full of the Spirit and wisdom. If we are to follow their example, then our leaders should be chosen from among the regular attenders by the congregation; and they should be people who demonstrate the fruits of the Spirit, that is, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
These qualities are rarely seen among our public leaders, and they are often mocked—but they are what we are looking for here. For they require courage, and they lead straight to Jesus’ honours list. It takes courage to be good: to stand up for justice when doing so causes others to mock and even attack you; it takes courage to exercise self-control, and not fight back. It takes courage to relinquish privilege, and to live humbly. It takes courage to be vulnerable, and to do the hard work of grief. It takes courage to live authentically, rather than hide behind the shallow masks our society hands out. It takes courage to pray and face our shadows, rather than fill our days with busy-ness and clutter. Living courageously, living a wholehearted life, means walking through conflict, refusing to retaliate, being vulnerable, offering and accepting forgiveness, seeking freedom, living joyfully, and learning to love. We may not see these practices among many political or corporate leaders, but then, we’re engaged in a very different project: for we are called to model a different way to the society around us, a way that is shaped not by and for the privileged, but shaped by God’s culture and God’s heart for the world.
Jesus tells his disciples that the kingdom of heaven, God’s reality, is very close, and is even now sending shoots and sparks into our world. Like yeast in the bread, like salt in the soup, God’s culture is what gives this world flavour and life—and we are the bearers of this culture. So let us all pray for the courage to open ourselves to the Spirit, that God’s culture might blossom among us, and bear much fruit. And next week, let us choose courageous people full of Spirit and wisdom, to lead us in the year to come. Ω
A reflection for Sanctuary, 29 January 2017, referring to the Beatitudes in Matthew. My paraphrase of the text is here.
When Jesus saw the crowds which surrounded him, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
“Honoured are those who have no sense of entitlement,
for God's culture is their culture.
Honoured are those who grieve,
for they will be comforted.
Honoured are the nonviolent,
for they will inherit the earth.
Honoured are those who hunger and thirst for justice,
for they will be satisfied.
Honoured are the compassionate,
for they will receive compassion.
Honoured are the contemplative,
for they will encounter God.
Honoured are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
Honoured are those who are persecuted for justice’s sake,
for God's culture is their culture.
Honoured are you when people revile you and persecute you and speak all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in God's reality, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
Sunday, January 22, 2017
|Memorial to fishermen lost at sea, Newlyn, Cornwall. |
Sculpture by Tom Leaper. Photo my own.
No matter how scary I try to look, what with my short hair, frown lines, and black clothes, I’m the person in the street everyone seems to approach. Sometimes, I’m asked for directions; sometimes, they want money or cigarettes; sometimes, I’m told a story. And sometimes, I’m asked if I’m saved. I used to answer, “it’s complicated”, but that opened up a whole conversation I didn’t want to have. Then I began saying “yes”—but I discovered that meant further questions to find out if I’m saved in the right way. I won’t tell you what I say now; but, it seems that, whatever I say, it’s almost impossible to shake such a questioner off.
So when I hear Jesus saying that he will make his disciples fish for people, I feel a bit queasy. It’s right up there with ‘go and make disciples of all nations’ when it comes to smelling fishy, because words like evangelism, proselytising, and making disciples are, for me, associated with feeling manipulated, coerced, bullied, and guilty. Worse, in the international sphere, mission is bound up with the violence of colonialism. Yet Jesus tells his disciples to spread the good news, so am I just being a cynic when I view mission this way? And if not, then where’s the problem?
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Whodunnit? It’s the question asked of every murder mystery. Perhaps it’s Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with the lead piping; or maybe it’s Miss Scarlet in the dining room with the candlestick. But “whodunnit?” is not a question that is asked very often about the death of Jesus: either we don’t think about it, or we assume that we know. But if we take a closer look, we might find that the answer to “whodunnit?”, that is, who demanded Jesus’ death, is not exactly what we assume; yet whodunnit has enormous implications for our faith.