Thursday, 17 July 2014

Notes for Reflection

July 20                         NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts: Isaiah 44:6-8; Romans 8:12-25; Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

Theme: The subject is surely clearer this week, even if finding a pithy theme to encapsulate it is no easier.   Good and evil co-exist, both in our human nature and in the whole of creation.  That's the fact we asked to confront this week, isn't it?  So perhaps a safe choice might be "The Need for Discernment" or "The Gift of Discernment".  For fans of Thomas Green, S.J. we could simply plagiarise the title of his book "Weeds Among the Wheat" – a little alliteration often helps to give a short motto a bit of bite.  (On a similar topic he also wrote "Darkness in the Marketplace", but that may be more confusing than helpful on this occasion.)  The need is to focus on seeing this as a practical problem – not an interesting theological issue.  So perhaps "Practical Discernment 101" might appeal.

Introduction.  We begin again this week with Isaiah; and the theme of the moment for him is the need to turn away from falsity to truth – from idols to the One True God.  That surely is the solid foundation on which to base all true discernment.  And the fundamental test here is to look at the divine track record: what God says will happen, does happen: what idols and false gods promise is not fulfilled.  Go, figure!  St Paul is coming to the same point through his long argument of which our second lesson is a part.  We know we have the Spirit within us by what we say and do.  On the basis of the inner transformation which we have experienced and are continuing to experience we can have hope for a better future, not only for our species, but for the whole of creation.  In our gospel passage we are shown the world as it is now – and how we are to live in it.  Wisdom, not direct action, is called for.

Background.  Three things to chew on this week, in ascending order of seriousness and importance.  First, a quote from Dr Don Brash.  A few weeks ago he was interviewed by Kim Hill on National Radio.  When she got on to the issue of his marital infidelity she expressed, with her usual delicacy, not any ethical denunciation of his actions, but her sheer astonishment that HE, famous for his unworldly intellectualism, should have engaged in something so carnal.  How could that be?  His response was immediate and simple:  "Well, Kim, there is such a thing as evolution, you know"  If you are one of those who is still trying to get your head around chapters 7and 8 of St Paul's Letter to the Romans I commend the good doctor's comment to you.  What St Paul calls life in the flesh is the product of evolution: it is our animal life that has evolved over millennia to meet our basic needs, including primarily our need to survive as a species.  What our faith tells us is that Christ has inaugurated a new stage of evolution – he calls it the new creation – a stage of spiritual evolution, in which our physical instincts and appetites (the evolutionary imperative) can be brought under our control, if we choose to do so. 

The second issue that is occupying my mind this week concerns the proposal to establish a memorial to conscientious objectors in Dunedin.  The spokesperson for the R.S.A. is treading carefully in her opposition, keeping her argument to the issue of the appropriate site.  She does not want it on Anzac Avenue, which has special significance to the troops of the First World War, and alongside which trees have been planted in their memory.  The latest reports suggest that the trustees for the proposed memorial have been offered an alternative site and are considering it.  All sorts of issues arise from this argument.  Were our troops not fighting for our freedoms, including our freedom of conscience?  Is it not agreed that our treatment of Archibald Baxter and others like him was so outrageous as to be a serious blot on our war record as a nation?  Do our returned servicemen men and women have a strong view on this issue, or is this the view of the professional employees who presume to know better?

But what particularly interests me at this moment is the light this parable can shed on the issue.  Master, did you not designate this avenue to be a memorial to the good seed of New Zealand youth who went to the Front in World War I?  How is it then that there is also a memorial to weeds like Archibald Baxter? ... Do you want us to go and knock it down?  No, because in doing that you might injure the very people whose memory you are trying to honour.

Thirdly, and most importantly, is the tragedy of Gaza.  Who is right and who is wrong in that terrible situation?  And the only possible answer from a Christian viewpoint must surely be that all those whose actions are causing, directly or indirectly, suffering to others are wrong.  But let's focus on the application of this week's Parable to the situation, and, in particular, to Israel's attempts to go and uproot the Hamas rocket-launchers.  If it were possible to do only that without causing any "collateral damage" (the language of war is truly ghastly) it would be hard to deny the justice of Israel's cause.  But, of course, it is not, and despite all possible counter-accusations and official spin, the Israeli Government knows it is not.  So the punch-line in this parable is exactly in point again.  No, do not try to destroy the rocket-launchers because in doing so you will destroy the innocent as well as the guilty.

One of my favourite commentators on the parables of Jesus is the American Episcopal priest, Robert Farrar Capon, whose trilogy comprises The Parables of the Kingdom, The Parables of Grace, and The Parables of Judgment.  He is particularly good on this Parable of the Weeds.  He points out that that what the enemy has done (sown weeds among the wheat) is not what damages the wheat: the master's response only makes sense if the wheat can nevertheless grow to maturity.  Any damage to the wheat will be done by the well-meaning servants.  Thus, the "enemy" (evil) is not effective or powerful in itself: it can only achieve its aim by deceiving (tempting) people into doing its work.

The outcome of Don Brash giving into temptation was the destruction of his marriage, which he deeply regrets.  The outcome of the stoush over the site of a memorial to conscientious objectors is likely to be a far more prominent position for the memorial and a lessening of respect for the RSA for its ungracious attitude.  The outcome of the Israeli bombing of Gaza is likely to be an increase in support for Hamas and international opprobrium for Israel, perhaps the real reason why Hamas keeps firing rockets that do comparatively little harm to Israel's citizens.  Those with evil intent achieve their aims by tempting their targets to harm themselves.

Isaiah.  This part of Isaiah seems to date from the time that monotheism is becoming mainstream in Jewish religious understanding, but, of course, not without some resistance.  In chapters 40 and 41 Isaiah exposes the folly of idolatry by contrasting it with the glory of God.  In chapters 43 and 44 he reverses the order, but the point is the same.  It is absurd to believe in idols we have made ourselves – how can they have power that we do not have?  But the most important point Isaiah is now making is that it is not an issue of theological debate: it is a matter of practical observation or, we might say, of historical record.  What does our experience tell us?  God has spoken the truth: what he has foretold from the beginning has come to pass.  Who or what can match that?    Who or what can compare with him?

Taking It Personally.

  • Are you sure you are a monotheist?  Are you convinced of the reality of God as the sole source of life, goodness and everything else?
  • Is God your primary source of identity?  Do you place your identity as a Christian ahead of all other identities, such as gender, race, or class?  What does that mean for you?
  • Looking back, how would you summarise God's "track-record" in your life?
  • Is God the rock on which you are building your house?  Does your faith in God enable you to make right decisions in the "real" world of your everyday life?
  • Focus on verse 8.  Are you one of his witnesses?

 

Romans.  There is so much in this passage that it is impossible to do it justice in one lesson.  (Whole books have been written just on chapter 8!)  And, of course, each passage is carefully linked by St Paul, with what precedes it and what follows is; he is after all developing an argument.  For me the best place to pick up the argument this week is back at verse 9; verses 9 to 11 comprise one of his key points, which he then elaborates in verses 12 to 17, before broadening it out in verses 18-25 to apply to the whole of creation.   As mentioned above, our modern understanding of evolution fits well with what St Paul is talking about here.  Something new and extraordinary has "intervened" in the evolution of our species, and through our species the rest of creation.  The Spirit of Christ has been released into the universe and seeks to be incarnated in the material of created matter, our own first and the rest following.  It is not an instant, immediate and universal transformation, but one that is slow, gradual, and ultimately all-embracing.  We are caught up in that process.  How do we know?  By our own experience.  Do we experience God as "Abba" – do we experience the reality of being children of God – not in some esoteric moment of supposed spiritual rapture – but in the tough, gritty world as it really is at this moment?

Taking It Personally.

 

  • Well do you?  Does this passage accurately describe your relationship with God as you experience it?
  • Do you fear God?
  • Do you address God in your prayers as "Abba"?
  • Does the understanding that God is creating all things through evolution appeal to you at all?  Does it help or hinder your understanding of the state of the world today?
  • Do you live in hope for the future?

 

Matthew.  At first glance, this is an odd parable.  It does not seem to be drawn from actual practice, in the way that the Parable of the Sower could well have been.  After all, it is unlikely that a neighbour really did hop over the fence and broadcast weed seeds willy-nilly in a paddock of freshly sown wheat.  Nevertheless, it is a wonderfully clear story with a very important point to make.  Which raises the obvious question, why did it require such a laboured (we might say "corny") explanation?  One clue might be found in verses 34 and 35, which precede the explanation, and seem quite superfluous given that they cover the same point that has already be dealt with at much greater length in verses 10-17.  Perhaps in the early church there was a real issue with this form of teaching, particularly among Gentile converts.  They weren't used to it and didn't get it.  Today our mistake may be in assuming that this parable is really one of judgment, designed to assure us that the bad guys will get what's coming to them eventually.  Remembering that this teaching is for those who wish to be or become disciples of Christ, it is surely about how we deal with evil when we encounter  it.  And then we remember that the one who is instructing us is the one who accepted death on the cross rather than a sword fight to the death.  God's wisdom is different from ours; hence the daily need for discernment guided by the Spirit.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • Read slowly through the parable several times.  Don't be in a hurry to go past the opening words "The kingdom of heaven may be compared..."
  • Think about the expression "cutting off your nose to spite your face": is that a useful summary of this parable?
  • Can you recall an occasion when, with the best of intentions, you took action only to discover that you made things worse?
  • How might you respond to a similar situation in the future, guided by this parable?
  • Is Jesus advocating an acceptance of evil in this story?

Thursday, 10 July 2014

Notes for Reflection

July 13                         NOTES FOR REFLECTION                        

Texts:  Isaiah 55:10-13; Romans 8:1-11; Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Theme:  Another hard week!  For some reason I keep coming up with phrases that look more like a clue for a cryptic crossword than a theme for a service!  But something around sowing (or being sown?), receiving, growing, or harvesting, perhaps.  As usual, it's a bit of a stretch to find something that would bring in the second lesson, but perhaps "Sown with the Spirit of God" might do it.

Introduction.  We start with Isaiah at his musical best – it is almost impossible to read chapter 55 without bursting into song.  [The NRSV edition I am using has a heading for this chapter reading "An Invitation to Abundant Life".  Amen to that!  I wondered whether to suggest that as this week's theme, but then a thought struck me: isn't that the theme of the whole Bible?]  Today's verses may not have quite the same effect on us in mid-winter as they would have had to desert-dwellers of Isaiah's time, but they still must rank among the most uplifting and inspiring in our Scriptures.  St Paul, too, has switched into a more positive mood this week as he continues to build up his argument that we have been rescued from our powerlessness (we might even say, rescued from ourselves) and are now free to live the life intended for us by our Creator, guided by the Spirit rather than by our natural appetites and instincts.  And we close this week with one of Jesus' most important parables as we continue to reflect on what it means to follow Christ, to be a disciple, or, more simply, to be a Christian.

Background.  Three things are buzzing around in my head as I come to my encounter with this week's readings.  First, an image from Brazil, but not from the field of play.  The day before their semi-final there was a brief news item about how the whole country was going mad over football and, of course, over their national team; and one example of this was a local priest or shaman, or whatever he was, offering supplications to the gods, spirits or whatever it is in his belief system that can be relied upon to influence the outcome of football matches.  He had a little altar on which were some effigies, some wearing Brazilian colours, and some wearing German colours.  Of course, he prayed different prayers over those effigies.  The tone of the news reporter was that of a curious and rather superior tourist inviting us viewers to laugh with him at this poor deluded primitive man.  Instead, I found myself wondering about the content and purpose of my own prayers sometimes.  And about what would happen if a local commentator drew attention to the number of times we see rugby players, football players, and even tennis players praying, pointing to heaven or signing themselves with the cross before or during a match.

More importantly, I'm thinking about David Cunliffe's so-called "apology for being a man", and the reaction to it.  Personally, I think it might have been better phrased: I take it that what Mr Cunliffe meant to say, in the context of domestic violence, was that sometimes he felt ashamed to be a man.  Whatever his political opponents might make of that (and early responses have been all too predictable) St Paul would be leading the cheering.  For whether Mr Cunliffe realised it or not (and as the son of a Presbyterian minister it is just possible that he did) his remark is classic Pauline theology.  It illustrates the idea of solidarity: all men do not commit sexual assault but all men are capable of doing anything that any man does.  And, of course, we can (and must) extend that to all human beings.  To hold otherwise would be to assert that only some men (or some human beings) needed to be set free by Christ; the rest of them are inherently good and can and do always make the right choice in all circumstances.

Incidentally, one of the reasons why I have been enjoying the drama series Boadchurch on T.V. One over recent weeks is that it showed that many of the people in the little town were guilty of all sorts of things, quite unrelated to the murder that was at the heart of the serial; but that, of course, did not stop them turning on someone they suspected of paedophilia and driving him to suicide.  Who in that little town did not need Christ's liberating grace?

Which gets me to the third thing that is buzzing around in my head this week.  Recently I found a reference to a novel by John Updike called A Month of Sundays, and the reference said enough to motivate me to go to the local library to track it down.  (It was published in 1975, and so had been consigned to the dreaded "Stack Room"; but three days later it was in my hands.)  It is told in the first person, that person being an Episcopalian priest who has been given a choice by his bishop: he can either go to a place for erring priests and get sorted out or he can be unfrocked and dismissed from the ministry.  So he is at this strange "rehabilitation centre" for fallen priests, where all talk of God is banned, no Bibles are allowed on the premises, and the "guests" (he prefers the term "inmates") are not even supposed to know what day of the week it is (in particular, when it is Sunday.)

The idea seems to be that the erring priest is to confront his own failings, and not hide from himself in theology, Scripture, or any other religious safe haven.  (Think about that for a moment.)   I am only half way through the book, but it has certainly shaken me up!  As the hero begins to tell his story it becomes clear that he has committed adultery with the organist, and may be other women, too.  So far, so trite and obvious.  But Updike is far too good a writer to deal with this theme superficially – Peyton Place this ain't (though it is much more explicit than I was expecting)!   And one of the gifts of this book is how theologically educated Updike obviously was.  He uses his learning to show how easily the hero can live in his head one minute and his flesh (back to St Paul) the next.  And when the hero works out that Sunday has dawned, he preaches to himself two of the most brilliant, enthralling sermons I have ever heard or read, and certainly more compelling than any I have ever preached.  Suffice it to say, on the first such occasion he takes as his text "Neither do I condemn thee", spoken by Jesus to the woman caught in adultery.

But here's the thing.  Despite his rhetorical brilliance, and his insight into the (male) human condition, the sermon has one major flaw.  It is completely contrary to the teaching of Christ.  It is self-justifying heresy – wonderfully funny in places, but outrageously untrue.  And why I think it matters is precisely here: I am tired of hearing people knocking the idea of "orthodox belief", whether in the form of the historic creeds, the Scriptures, or our prayer books.  Yes, we can go too far in turning Christianity into a set of abstract beliefs or propositions to be memorised and trotted out when occasion demands.  And yes, we should always recall St James satirical attack on those who talk the talk but fail to walk the walk.  But walking the talk without knowing the way (and the truth and the life) is not discipleship or Christianity either, however many good deeds we might do.

I've gone on too long, I know, but what I'm trying to say this week is this.  Discipleship for me has three strands.  First, it involves learning what Christ has taught and is today (through the Spirit) still teaching.  Secondly, it involves putting the teaching into practice.  And thirdly, and perhaps most importantly of all, it involves accepting that none of that can happen without opening ourselves up to the transforming power of God so that we become disciples in ourselves, capable of learning and doing just what that means in our lives.

Isaiah.  And here is our first reminder that it all begins with God.  Any other approach is simply a self-improvement programme devised by humans for humans, and doomed to ultimate failure.  This lesson is an apt choice to accompany the Parable of the Sower, of course, but equally it could go with John's account of the meeting between Jesus and Nicodemus: John 3:3, and so on.  As mentioned already, this is not the best time of the year for us to get the full impact of these verses, but we can imagine a time of drought, or a time spent in desert country – a time of frustration for a farmer or gardener desperately waiting for rain to save her crops and help them grow.  And the great relief, the great joy, when the rain finally starts to fall.  Translate that into your prayer life and what  doyou get?  Those arid times, those times when God seems to have gone into hiding, when your prayers seem as fruitless as the Brazilian gentleman's proved to be; pray for the rain of grace to start falling and know the joy when it finally does.

Taking It Personally.

·        Reflect on the Brazilian man offering his prayers.  What do you think about that?  What does it tell you about your own prayers?  Have you ever prayed for a successful outcome to a competition, for the All Blacks, perhaps, or Team New Zealand?  What about the outcome of a General Election?

·        Is there a difference between those sorts of prayers and praying for the successful outcome of an operation?  What is the difference?

·        What about praying for rain?  Or for a fine day?

·        Do you agree or disagree that knowing what we believe as Christians is important?

·        Do you agree or disagree with the concept of solidarity as outlined above?  Are you sometimes ashamed of being a human being, or a man or a woman?

·        Reflect on this passage from Isaiah.  Imagine a day of steady gentle rain.  Is that a helpful image of God's grace watering your life?

Romans.  St Paul has reached a turning-point in his long argument.  Having wrestled with the paradox of being unable to do our own will, and stating emphatically his belief that Christ has broken the power of sin over us, he now turns to the question of how we might live out our new-found (or new-given) freedom in accordance with God's will.  It is not by using our freedom to comply with the specific provisions of the Law (the Maker's Handbook form of Christianity) but by becoming attuned to the guidance of the Holy Spirit in all the circumstances of our lives.  This is what he calls "life in the Spirit" in contrast to "life in the flesh" (whatever feels good is good).  Perhaps the biggest difficulty with this reading is the impression it might give that our conversion from life in the flesh to life in the Spirit is instantaneous and complete.  Experience suggests that such conversion is a life-long process for most of us, with many missteps along the way.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Try to recall a choice or decision you made in the last month of some consequence.  What motivated you in the choice or decision you made?  Custom or habit?  The expectations of others?  A desire for the approval of others?  Your perception of your own best interest, needs or wants?

·        Did you seek, or were you aware of, the leading of the Spirit?  Is it your practice to seek spiritual guidance from others when facing an important decisions?  Has anyone else asked you for such guidance recently?

·        Meditate on verses 9-11.  Write your own summary of them in your own words.  How do you feel about this teaching?  Does it ring true to your own experience?

·        Are you convinced that Christ is in you?  What does that mean for you?

 

Matthew.  Here surely we have the foundation of a life of discipleship.  Unless we receive the Seed of Life no growth is possible; and healthy growth is only possible if we are receptive to that seed, and consciously nurture and nourish its growth.  That perhaps is where the analogy begins to fall down.  Even good soil requires someone to tend it.  We must do our part, first in preparing our own "tilth" so that the Seed of Life can enter into us; and then we must tend the plant that grows from that seed.  Apart from anything else, we must ensure that it does not become choked by weeds.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        An excellent passage for a thorough spiritual stock-take.  What is the present state of your soil?  Are there any weeds that need to be removed?  Are you watering it regularly with prayer?  Are you feeding it regularly with the Bread of Heaven?

·        Are there any changes you need to make in your present practices?

Thursday, 3 July 2014

Notes for eflection

July 6                           NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts:  Zechariah 9:9-12; Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Theme:  A bit of a challenge this week – an even race with no obvious favourites, we might say.  But as I've been pondering these readings, looking for a common theme, the idea of "looking" or "seeing" keeps coming to me.  On our spiritual journey what are we looking for?  Why can't we see it?  These are perhaps the sort of questions these readings throw at us this week.  So perhaps a theme such as "Open our Eyes, Lord" might do it.  Or given the presence of children in our gospel reading, perhaps "Hide and Seek" might be better.  I'm leaning towards something more obscure, such as "Hidden In Plain Sight".

Introduction.  We start with a bold and joyous proclamation from the prophet Zechariah: in a reading more often associated with Palm Sunday, he announces that the king is coming to his people, bringing peace and freedom for them all.  It all sounds clear and transparent – beyond debate; but one little strange detail should alert us that it's not going to be quite as simple as that.  How many conquering heroes arrive on a donkey?  We follow that with this famous, psychologically astute passage from St Paul on the human phenomenon of seeming to be unable to do our own will, let alone God's.  And we close with one of those "hamper packs", where the gospel writer (in this case, Matthew) seems to collect together a few tasty morsels and package them together without any obvious connecting thread.

Background.  It's been a tough week or two on the world scene, perhaps dominated in our neck of the woods with the guilty verdicts against Rolf Harris.  Even now, it seems, many who worked with Harris for decades in the entertainment industry are refusing to believe it, convinced that the jury got it wrong, even as more and more complaints against him are now arising.  We are, of course, used to the idea that wrong-doers, particularly abusers of women and children, usually go to great lengths to hide their offending behind closed doors, so that when the truth comes out those who know them are astonished because they had never seen or heard anything that might raise suspicion.  But one particularly shocking aspect of Harris' conduct (and even more so, of Saville's) is how much of it occurred in public, even on television.  And yet nobody saw anything – or, if they did, they could not or would not believe what they saw.

We see what we expect to see, or want to see; we do not see what we don't expect or want to see.  Perhaps that explains how millions of people, particularly in Italy, saw Uruguayan Luis Suarez bite an Italian opponent in the World Cup football match, but neither the President of Uruguay nor most of his compatriots saw anybody bite anybody else!

The great priest and prophet, Fr Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, often wondered how it was that so few people could see what he saw; in fact, his aim in writing his spiritual masterpiece, The Divine Milieu, was to help people to SEE.  One who could see was his fellow Jesuit priest and poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins: Teilhard often quoted the famous first line from Hopkins' wonderful poem, God's Grandeur – "The world is charged with the grandeur of God".  Teilhard could see that grandeur shining through wherever he looked, but most of us see it, if at all, in brief glimpses of exceptional beauty and/or power.  The burning question is why?  Are people like Teilhard and Hopkins deluded, seeing things that aren't really there?  Are they gifted with abilities denied to the rest of us?  Or is it the case that all human beings have the latent capacity to see the grandeur of God, if only we weren't blinded by other things, things interior and exterior?

Told to look out for a king coming to them "triumphant and victorious", would the people of Zechariah's time recognise such a king if he chose to appear among them "humble and riding on a donkey"?  Told to look out for the Saviour of the World, who would recognise him hanging on a cross between two criminals?  Assured that he is with us always even to the end of the age, how do we recognise him today?

I suspect that these sorts of musings might help us to find a common theme in this apparently motley collection of bits and pieces in Matthew's 11th chapter.  The chapter opens with a summary of what Jesus has been doing (teaching his disciples) and what he now starts to do (teaching and proclaiming his message to the public); and then we go straight to the story about the imprisoned John the Baptist sending messengers to inquire of Jesus, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?"  But notice what Matthew has done in verse 2.  Having told us in verse 1 what Jesus had been doing and was about to do, Matthew says John sent his messengers after hearing what "the Messiah was doing".  In other words Matthew makes it clear to us that Jesus is the Messiah even as he introduces John's question that can only be understood as doubting that very thing.  Even the great prophet and forerunner is having difficulty seeing that Jesus is "charged with the grandeur of God".

The theme of seeing the true identity of someone continues in the following verses.  Who did the crowds go out to see in the wilderness (and who did they see)?  Why did people reject  John for eating and drinking very little, and Jesus for eating and drinking too much?  In other words, they didn't recognise John as a prophet because he didn't fit their preconceived notion of what a prophet should look like, and they didn't recognise Jesus as the Messiah for much the same reason.  And whole cities, Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum among them, failed to see who Jesus really was despite witnessing his miraculous deeds.

I find myself once again pondering the purpose of the traditional spiritual practices.  Sometimes teachers of the past have suggested that they are ways of "pleasing" God, in return for which God will graciously grant us one or more "spiritual experiences" – God will, as it were, "put in an appearance", albeit tantalisingly brief.  But these passages suggest that God's "default position" is not that of "Hidden – Find me if you can", but of "Here I am – click here to open your eyes."  The spiritual exercises, like their physical counterparts, are designed to develop our abilities – in this case, to see the grandeur of God.

So what stops us?  The short answer, based on the Beatitudes, would be a lack of purity of heart.  I think what St Paul is wrestling with in this classic passage from Romans is another way of expressing the same truth.  It's a lack of will.  We don't truly want to see God because to see God is to die: to see God is to die, that is, to self.  It is to lose all excuses – to lose all our hiding places.  Isn't that really something close to truth?  While we can believe that God hides from us, we can convince ourselves that we are hidden from God, which we prefer to be at all times other than dire emergencies.

Zechariah.  This week an organisation we had barely heard of had the audacity to proclaim a new caliphate over large areas of what Western nations once proclaimed were separate countries called Syria and Iraq, and to call upon all Moslems worldwide to recognise a man whose name we cannot pronounce as the Caliph to whom they all owe allegiance.  That news story provides an interesting back-drop to this short passage from one of the so-called minor prophets.  How might this passage sound to people with whom Israel was at war?  Who is this king of Israel who has the audacity to "command peace to the nations", and to claim "dominion from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth"?

Taking It Personally.

·        Who do you say he is?

·        How can we proclaim Christ's universal reign in a world of other faiths without sounding like "Western imperialists"?

·        What evidence do you have in support of your belief that Christ is with you at this time?

·        Moses famously asked God to let him see God.  Have you ever made such a request?  Would you like to see God?  Why or why not?

 

Romans.  Anyone who has ever tried to commit to a new diet, or a new exercise regime, will know at some level what St Paul is on about in this passage!  Everyone who has ever resolved to give up a bad habit, or turn over a new leaf, or be more patient, or less judgmental, or [fill in the blank for yourself], will likewise be nodding at this point.  It is very much part of the mystery of being human, isn't it?  Whether we like it or not, sometimes we do not seem able to execute our own will, not because of any outside restraints, but because our will suddenly countermands our own intentions.  We may not feel comfortable with St Paul's choice of language here – we might not accept that we are slaves to sin – or like the Augustinian doctrine of original sin – but there sure is something pretty weird about our own failure to carry out our own fixed intentions.  The point is, of course, that no amount of intellectual study or struggle, or psychological analysis or counselling, can free us from this condition.  It is a spiritual problem, and only Christ can set us free from it.

 

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Recall a few examples from you own experience of this phenomenon.  Be specific.  Can you see any common thread that links these instances?

·        How do you feel about them?  Frustrated?  Annoyed or disappointed with yourself?  Laid-back, understanding and forgiving?

·        When you think about your own examples, do you feel more compassionate towards other people who have failed to follow through on commitments made to you?

·        If Christ has set us free from this condition, why do you still suffer from it?

·        Next time you form an intention to do something, pray for the grace to carry through with it no matter what and, when you have done it, give thanks for that grace.

·        End with a period of chanting, "Lord, strengthen my will to do your will."

 

Matthew.  The first little passage this week, featuring the children's game emphasises, the blindness of the people.  Neither in times of joy (music, wedding dance, etc) nor in loss (wailing, funeral, dirge, mourning) are they aware of God's presence with them.  As already noted, they do not recognise John as a prophet because of his extreme asceticism, and they do not recognise Jesus as the Messiah because of his openness to parties and celebrations.  The second passage is interesting first of all because verses 25-27 seem out of place in this gospel.  If someone had read them to me and asked me which gospel they were in I would have unhesitatingly chosen St John's gospel.  (Wouldn't you?)  That aside, they continue with an exploration of how the true identity of Jesus is to be recognised.  Again, the answer is that there is no intellectual answer to that question: Jesus is only finally known through revelation – through our capacity to receive spiritual truth.  We finish with a very interesting image from the agricultural world of Jesus' time.  Apparently, when a new ox was "in training" it would be yoked to the most experienced ox of the team, and would learn it's duties from that senior.  Yokes have a bad image for us, yet Jesus invites us to be yoked to him.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Should spiritual leaders follow some sort of ascetical discipline?  How would you react if a bishop or priest had the reputation of being a bit of a part animal?

·        Reflect on that image Jesus used about a yoke.  Would you like to be yoked to Jesus?  Are you yoked to him?  Have you asked him to let you be yoked to him?

·        Spend time slowly re-reading verses 29-30.  When you are ready pray to Jesus about these verses.  Tell him what you feel about the idea.  Be completely honest with him.  Why might you be hesitant to accept his yoke?

Thursday, 26 June 2014

Notes for Reflection

June 29                       NOTES FOR REFLECTION                        

Texts: Jeremiah 28:5-9; Romans 6:12-23; Matthew 10:40-42

Theme:  Nothing strikes me as obvious this week.  However, as we are now in the second half of our liturgical year when the emphasis is on discipleship, perhaps something like "The Proof of the Pudding" might be a good way to start.  More hazardous, but just as catchy, would be "Doing Is Believing", but on the feast day of St Peter and St Paul that might be going too far.  (Perhaps file it away for the feast day of St James, whenever that is.)  What we need to highlight is that, Christ having done all that is necessary for our salvation, it is time for us to show the fruits of his work in our lives.

Introduction.  In the brief but rather subversive little passage from St Matthew this week Jesus assures those who welcome a prophet will receive a prophet's reward.  Just in case that sounds warm and encouraging, our first lesson is from the Book of Jeremiah.  Are you with me?  The reward for welcoming a Jeremiah into your home is to receive what Jeremiah received?  And it doesn't get any better if we run from Jeremiah to St Paul.  He demands of us a righteous life, which again sounds okay until we go back to the gospel.  The reward for welcoming a righteous person is to receive the reward of the righteous.  Well, Peter and Paul were righteous, and today we remember them as martyrs.  Do you see how modern the idea of providing the right incentives really is!  In short, once again we are offered an opportunity to reflect on the difference between worldly and spiritual values.

Background.  Over the last two or three weeks I have been reading a remarkable book with a remarkable title by a man with a remarkable name: The Solace of Fierce Landscapes by Telden Lane.  It was recommended to me several years ago by my then spiritual director, but at that time it was only available in hardback at a remarkable price.  Now, Kindle has come to my rescue.  I was about to note that I'm not making much progress in reading the book, before it suddenly dawned on me that such a comment would perfectly illustrate the theme I am trying to work with this week.  What I had in mind, of course, was that, after two or three weeks, I am still well short of half-way through.  It has been slow going.  That is not because of any defect in the writing: the author writes very well.  It is because the book has so many profound insights into subjects such as suffering and loss, silence and withdrawal, and the presence and absence of God, that I am constantly stopped in my tracks by a need to pause, ponder and reflect.

And that means that in the truly important sense I am making progress.  I am learning things about my faith, my understanding, and above all about my own lack of deep seeing that I have not managed to learn on the journey so far.  For instance, I am a coastal person.  I was born and bred on the wild northern coast of Cornwall, and I do not thrive if I do not have ready access to a beach.  Particularly, I need to walk on the beach when things have gone wrong: it's not simply that physical exercise helps me to unwind – a walk anywhere else does not have the same effect.  It has to be the beach, but why?  What is it about a beach that I find so healing?

Thanks to this book I am beginning to discover the answer to that question.  The author refers to a short quote that he picked up from someone else (whose name I have forgotten): We are saved in the end by the things that ignore us.  For some reason that simple little phrase has become one of my most important eureka moments.  When we go out into the desert, or up in a mountain range, or in my case, down on the beach, we are in the presence of indifference on a huge scale.  The desert neither welcomes us nor objects to our intrusion: it simply doesn't notice us.  The mountains have been there for eons before our unheralded arrival and will be there for aeons after our departure.  The sea's tides will continue their ebb and flow, with no sign that our presence on the beach has the slightest effect on their coming and going.  We simply don't matter a jot.

And that is the beginning of the healing process.  Gradually we realise that our focus has been far too much on ourselves and our petty problems.  We have been living in a world of our own creation.  Because we are troubled we believe that the world is a hostile one, hostile, that is, to us.  And when we stand up and recite the creed on a Sunday morning, talking about a God who created all things, and about his Son through whom all things were created, those words crash upon the rocks of our real belief that this world is one of hostility and grief.  Why, then, should we praise the God who created it?

The first stage of the healing is to rid ourselves of the belief that "all the world's agin us" by recognising that it is no such thing.  All the world is indifferent to us.  We are just not that important.  And curiously, once we have gone through that deflationary process, it frees us to focus on God the Creator: it frees us to marvel at the creation, and to recognise that to be alive in such a wonderful world is an enormous privilege, a gift beyond price.  And it does something more: it gives us a desire to know this God, this Creator, who is the source of all there is, seen and unseen.  It allows us to read the wonderful closing chapters of the Book of Job and understand them; and to grasp at new depth what the author of Psalm 8 was saying, particularly in verses 3 and 4.

It gives new meaning to the theme of dying to self, and to the related one of humbling ourselves and being exalted.  If "repentance" really is about a change of mindset, then it is no wonder that it was from a desert that John the Baptist emerged with his call.  "Fierce landscapes" strip away all falsity, and confront us with searing truth – about ourselves and about God.  Jeremiah was in constant battle against false prophets, prophets who told the people (and their leaders) what they wanted to hear.  False prophets were always politically correct.  Jeremiah told them God's truth.  He received, no doubt, a prophet's reward – eventually.   In such landscapes we learn what it truly means to be a creature, wholly dependent on the Creator of all.  St Paul writes this week about slavery: we recall that it was in fierce landscapes of wilderness and mountains that God's people learned what it meant to be truly free.

Jeremiah.  Give yourself a treat – start reading at verse 1.  Suddenly we have before us a sort of Oxford Union debate – we can almost see the participants wearing dinner suits and black bow-ties..  Hananiah speaks first.  Wrapped up in prophetic language he predicts the come-uppance of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, with the consequential release of all the exiles and the return of the treasures looted from the Temple.  Cries of "hear, hear" (rather than Alleluia or Amen) ring out from the appreciative audience, and then all eyes turn to Jeremiah, eager to see how he will go against such a wonderful debater.  Jeremiah shows his mastery of such debate.  Tempted though he must have been to lean toward Hananiah and exclaim, "I can smell falsity on your breath", he restrained himself.  How wonderful it would be, he proclaimed if Hananiah's prediction should come to pass, but history cautions us not to bet the camels on it.  In the past, most prophets have forecast war, famine and pestilence rather than peace.  That doesn't mean only such prophecies can be genuine – but the odds are against it.  Let's wait and see: only if peace breaks out as predicted will we know that God has truly sent the prophet who predicted it.

Taking It Personally.

  • Put yourself in the audience.  Who would you have voted for?  Are you more inclined to listen to people who tell you what you want to hear and believe?
  • Ask yourself that question in the context of issues facing New Zealand and the world today.  How do you react to forecasts about climate change, the creation of an underclass, or an obesity epidemic?  Are those sounding warnings speaking the truth to us, or are they prophets of doom seeking a headline?
  • Do you form your own view on such issues, or do you seek guidance from the Holy Spirit?  What role is there (if any) for spiritual discernment in deciding how you will vote in this year's general election?
  • Does the Church have a prophetic call?  Is there any evidence that it is exercising that call?  Who should speak for the Church on such issues of the day?  Should we rely on motions from Synod, or should we seek those with a prophetic gift?
  • In ordinary social situations do you attempt to contribute to discussions from a faith-perspective, or are you inclined to bite your tongue?  If someone says something that is unfair, or disparaging, or otherwise ungodly, how do you react?

 

Romans.  Again, it would be helpful to start reading at the beginning of chapter 6, although verse 15 captures much the same point as verse 1; and both show human nature as it really is!  Can't you just hear someone saying, ah, well, if God loves us anyway, and if Christ died for me while I was yet a sinner, I can do whatever I like and I still get the same deal, regardless!  That's really the problem with what I tend to think of as forensic Christianity.  A sin has been committed, the culprit must be identified and held to account, and the punishment will be applied unless the culprit pleads "no contest" and plays the "get-out-of-hell-free" card which comes with membership of the Church.  That approach fails to recognise that we are called to follow the way of spiritual growth, pioneered and made possible for us by Christ.  Sin is not so much a particular act or omission that offends God, but a step backwards that slows or even reverses our spiritual progress, or perhaps a symptom of such spiritual regression.  For St Paul, the essence of Christ's work is that he has set us free from the compulsion of sin: how we use that freedom – to progress or regress – is now our choice to make.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • Start by reading the passage through slowly.  How do you feel about it?  How do you feel about Paul?  Be honest with yourself.  Do you find yourself switching off, or challenged, or something else?
  • Focus on verse 17.  To what extent have you "become obedient from the heart" to Christ's teaching?
  • How do you feel about verse 19a?  Does it strike you as understanding or condescending?
  • Are you seeking ever greater "sanctification"?  What does that mean for you?
  • Paul writes often about "righteousness".  How do you feel about that term?  Is there a better way of putting it without using that word?

 

Matthew.  This is getting monotonous, but you really do need to go back to verse 1, even if you can't bring yourself to read the whole chapter.  This teaching is at the heart of what it means to be a disciple in the real world.  Jesus wants his disciples to be under no illusion: it has echoes of the great debate in our first lesson.  (It also reminds me of the nonsense the US authorities told their troops as they prepared to invade Iraq: "you will be greeted as liberators!")  In this short passage Jesus prepares them for a variety of "welcomes".  In effect he is saying, give your time and attention to those who welcome you, who recognise that you come bearing the word of God, and who offer you hospitality, not out of general cultural practice, but precisely because you are my disciple.  Those are the ones who are on the way, and will receive their (spiritual) rewards.  But what about the others?  He does not tell us what to do about the mockers, the violent, or even the plain apathetic.  We are to look for those who are receptive to the gospel.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • What lessons might there be here for the outreach of your local faith community?
  • Is there a distinction between social work, and Christian social outreach?  When you offer help to another, do you do it "as a disciple"?  What does that mean for you?

Thursday, 19 June 2014

June 22 NOTES FOR REFLECTION Te Pouhere Sunday


June 22                       NOTES FOR REFLECTION                         Te Pouhere Sunday

Texts:  Isaiah 42:10-20; 2 Corinthians 5:14-19; Matthew 7:24-29*

[*The Lectionary offers four possible gospel readings for this Sunday, none of which seem to me to give grounds for celebrating the Constitution.  But to be fair, I can't think of any alternatives: it's almost as if theCconstitution has no biblical basis at all.]

Theme:  Fortunately I'm not preaching this Sunday.  If I were I would be tempted to choose as a theme something like "This is the Good News?" or "So St Paul Got It Wrong?" or "The Church's One (New) Foundation".  Privately, just between you and me, I'm going to follow Fiona Bruce's example and go for "Basic, Better, Best".  (If you don't watch the Antiques Roadshow ask someone who does.)  The safest option, of course, is to toe the party line and simply go for "Te Pouhere Sunday".

Introduction.  I noted last week that when The Lectionary has difficulty in finding relevant readings we know we're heading into troubled waters.  I was then referring to Trinity Sunday, of course, but the comment is even more apposite this week.  We begin with a typically brilliant passage from Isaiah which comments, among other things, on the unmatched blindness of Israel's leadership, which, given that Israel was what today would be called a theocracy, means its religious leaders.  So as we are commanded by General Synod (our religious leaders) to celebrate their masterpiece, we can only wonder if the choice of this lesson has its roots in humility or irony.  The second lesson seems a little more on theme:  Te Pouhere is a new creation, and was intended as a way of reconciliation with Maori who had every right to feel aggrieved by much that was done and practised by what was to all intents and purposes The Settler Church.  We finish with a gospel passage, the choice of which for this "celebration" must border on the blasphemous if the inference is that Te Pouhere is the rock on which our church is built.  Hopefully this Sunday in many congregations we will be singing Samuel John Stone's great hymn "The Church's one foundation is Jesus Christ, her Lord".  May we sing it loudly and defiantly on this occasion!

Background.  Yes, I'm feeling very grumpy this week, but it's not just my annual outbreak of PTPT (Pre-Te-Pouhere-Tension): there has surely been a great deal to be grumpy about this week.  If the brief media reports of the findings of the Glenn Inquiry are in any way accurate, we have in this country a horrendous amount of violence towards women and children, highlighted, sadly, by yet another infant dying from head injuries inflicted by an adult male living at the same address in Hamilton.  This follows on from a murder of a dairy owner by a 13-year-old boy and his even younger accomplice.  Meanwhile Iraq falls apart with ever greater atrocities committed by young men shouting "Allah is Great" as they massacre their prisoners and, far from trying to hide their crimes, boast about them on the internet.  Brief publicity is given to the scourge of elder abuse, and yet another of our fellow Kiwis is imprisoned for child pornography.

So, about three months out from an election, what are our politicians, and their playmates in the media, focused on?  A letter written by an electorate MP on behalf of a constituent 11 years ago!  I wonder how those brave women and men who told their stories to the Glenn Inquiry feel about that?

After such an appalling week we need as people of faith somewhere to go and be healed, to have our hope renewed, to be strengthened to carry on, to be empowered, to be recalled to our mission of reconciliation – above all to re-learn the fundamental truth that flows from our faith in the one true God, the one we in our national anthem address as "God of Nations", but whose greatest apostle insists calls us in his Son to transcend all supposed differences of gender and ethnicity.  There is only one God and only one human species.  All wars are civil wars and equally repugnant to the God of us all: all violence is domestic violence for we all belong in the one household of God.  Is that truth revealed in or contradicted by Te Pouhere?  After such a tough week as this, is there anything in that document that even remotely sounds like the Good News we so desperately need to hear?

This year General Synod met in Waitangi.  On the same day that I read our Bishop's blog on the subject I heard an item on the radio about the dissension and division among Nga Puhi over their long-awaited negotiations with the Crown seeking a Treaty settlement.  Was General Synod a beacon of light in that dark and troubled land, or was it a meeting of the blind and the deaf completely unaware of the pain and suffering of the people all around them desperate for some really good news?

So what do we celebrate today?  A constitution that is better than the one it replaced?  In theory, certainly, but in practice?  One of the people who made a strong impression on me years ago was a South African priest who was asked if Apartheid was wrong in principle, or only in practice.  If each "racial group" had been treated fairly, would it still be wrong to enforce separation?  He was very clear.  It was wrong in principle because it constituted "otherdom".  What he meant was that to stick any label on someone – whether that label was about colour, or ethnicity, or faith, or whatever – was to designate that person as "other" than the people who wore any other label.  Worse, he said, to do that was blasphemous, for God alone is Other.

 Perhaps that's why those who worked on the new Constitution for South Africa did not adopt a three-tikanga model – Tikanga White, Tikanga Black, and Tikanga Coloured.  That would have been better than the old constitution; but it wouldn't have been the best.  So they gave their people instead a one-Tikanga model, which we might term Tikanga Rainbow.  One advantage of that is that it sounds and is so much more biblical.  I can already think of an Old Testament lesson that would be spot on!

So perhaps 1-2 cheers for Te Pouhere today, recognising, in the words of that great modern seer, S. Hansen, "we're getting there but there's still a lot we can improve on".  We will reserve the third cheer for the next constitution that recognises that in Christ there is no longer Maori or Pakeha or Pacifika.

Isaiah.  The passage opens with a call to worship by all creation, coupled with an image of God that is as far removed from that of a sort of divine constitutional lawyer as it's possible to imagine.   This is an active God who psyches himself up with load cries not usually heard today outside of sporting contests.  It is an eclectic image, to put it mildly, embracing both a mighty warrior and a woman in labour.  Perhaps there is something there about fighting to bring new life, the very opposite of complacency or indifference.  This is a God who's had enough: he's through with patience and understanding.  His people have let him down; very well, he will take action himself.  In a world of deafness and blindness what good are leaders who are also deaf and blind?  Israel, the Lord's chosen servant, is as blind and deaf as everyone else.  And it is a spiritual blindness, perhaps even a wilful blindness, as verse 20 makes clear.

Taking It Personally.

  • Is it too late for the Church, the new Israel?  Has God lost patience with it?  Is there any evidence that God is still working through the Church, or do you think it is much more likely that God is now working around the Church?
  • What new song should we sing to the Lord?  Is worship the most important thing we can do, or is it a form of escapism by which we avoid dealing with real issues?
  • Meditate on verses 12 and 13.  How do you feel about the images of God in these verses?  Are they attractive to you, or off-putting?
  • What do you know about Te Pouhere?  Is it really modelled on the Trinity?  Were you ever consulted before the adoption of Te Pouhere?  Do you feel free to criticise it or is it now "official doctrine" to be accepted without question?  Does it owe more to the Treaty or to the Bible?  Is it essentially a political or a religious document?
  • Ponder verse 20.  Does it speak to you?  Is it challenging you in some specific way?  What might you change to meet that challenge?

 

Corinthians.  This lesson, too, raises difficulties if we try to read Te Pouhere in its light.   What should motivate us in all we do is not social justice, or a desire to implement the Treaty, or any other worthy but secular goal; what should urge us on is the love of Christ, an ambiguous phrase perhaps because it could mean his love of us or our love of him – or both.  But Paul is quite clear about one thing: it all starts at Golgotha, not Waitangi.  Because Christ has died for us all, all have died, he says.  What does that mean?  It means we have died to ourselves, to our own agendas, our own individual egos, our own wishes, desires, wants and whims.  We now live only for him.  We no longer look upon Christ in human terms, as male, or Jewish, or tall or dark.  Now all is made new in him.  In him God has reconciled us to him.  That is the message and the ministry which are now entrusted to us.  We are now ambassadors for Christ, proclaiming his message to others so that they too might be reconciled to God.  The whole focus is to be on God, not on Synods, and Constitutions, and other purely human concerns.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • Are you at peace with God?  How would you describe the present state of your relationship with God?
  • How are you fulfilling your role as an Ambassador for Christ?
  • How do you regard Christ?  Is your predominant image of him pre-Crucifixion or post- Ascension?
  • Do you live your life primarily for Christ, for yourself or for your family?

 

Matthew.  Surely one of our Lord's clearest and most graphic pieces of teaching.  One of the saddest aspects of the terrible slaughter that took place some years ago in Burundi was the fact that it followed so soon after a great spiritual revival when millions of people embraced the Christian faith.  Their new-found faith proved so fragile that in the face of ethnic tension it collapsed entirely, and even priests and people in religious orders joined in the slaughter.  As followers of Grand Designs can attest, the most important work often goes on below ground level.  If our faith is all about looking good and impressing the neighbours it will not stand very long.  Only if it is connected at the deepest level to Christ our rock does it have a secure future.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • What sort of foundations is the house of your faith built on?  Are they well embedded in solid rock, or high on stilts to get a better view?
  • Can you recall a time when you felt the storms of life might bring your faith crashing down around you?  What happened?
  • Are you a doer as well as a hearer of the word?  Can you recall an occasion when you heard something read to you from the Bible that challenged you to go and do something?  Did you do it?
  • Take time to review the foundations of your faith.  Do they require strengthening?  How might you do that?