Thursday, February 20, 2014

February 23 NOTES FOR REFLECTION

 

Texts:  Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18; 1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23; Matthew 5:38-48

Theme:  Immediate thoughts include “Run For It!”, “No More Wriggle Room”, or perhaps, simply “We Surrender”.  Last week we were invited to choose between life and death; this week some would say we are being urged to “Choose Death”.  I’m going for “Disarming Love”.  An alternative approach may be to go deeper into these readings and focus on what they are really about – becoming like God.  Something like “Becoming Holy”, or “Becoming the Temple of the Spirit”, or “Becoming Perfect”, say; or, to be a little more subtle, “The One True Role Model”.

Introduction.  There is a real “in-house” feeling to all three of these readings today, and we can easily get ourselves into hot water if we overlook it.  These readings (like the whole of Scripture, really) are directed to the people of faith, rather than to the world at large.  They DO NOT mandate a national policy of disarmament and pacifism: what they do mandate is a complete reversal of our own attitudes and behaviour towards those we, the people of faith, consider our enemies.  And within that framework there is a clear tension discernible in these readings between the universal scope of this teaching, and its application specifically to our fellow members of our faith community.  A clear example of this is found in our first lesson; in verse 10 the rights of the alien are to be recognised, but in verses 17 and 18 the focus has narrowed to “your kin” and “your people”.  St Paul’s teaching is unashamedly in-house, and I would contend that the whole of the Sermon on the Mount is directed to those who are, or are considering becoming, followers of Jesus: see Matthew 5:1 – “his disciples came to him.  Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:”.

Background.  I sometimes suspect that one of the reasons we prefer to concentrate on the actions of Jesus, including his miracles, is that they tend to keep our minds away from his teaching.  When we are confronted by that – and if we allow ourselves to really listen to it – we find that being a spectator is more fun than being a participant – or should that be, “a target”?  Because that’s what it so often feels like, doesn’t it?  Depending on our own particular life experiences, we might be more likely to squirm at his teaching against materialism, or divorce, or anger, or whatever.  But nothing quite stirs our blood as much as his teaching on forgiveness, and, in its full-blown version, loving our enemies and refusing to hit back when attacked.  What on earth are we to make of all this?

Well, first let me stir your blood with this thought: “One hundred years after Samuel Marsden first preached the good news in this land the First World War started.”  Now pause and check your response (and your pulse) to that statement.  It is, of course, factually correct: this year happens to be the centenary of the outbreak of the war and the bicentenary of Marsden’s famous Christmas Day sermon.   But so sensitive are we about our attitude as Christians towards war, that we immediately reacted to that statement because of the natural inference that those two events are in some way linked, and we don’t want them to be, do we?  We don’t want any suggestion that, as the Bishop of Dunedin leads a Hikoi of Joy around his diocese during Lent to mark the bicentenary of Marsden’s proclamation of peace, he might need to acknowledge that many of those who held equivalent rank in this country and in Britain were unashamed and outspoken supporters of the war that broke out in 1914, to the extent that many were described as “very effective recruiting agents”.  What is certain is that in this country conscientious objection was just as unacceptable within the Church as it was in the country at large.

Now, here’s another thought that those of a more pacifist persuasion might need to ponder; and by way of introduction I want to use a very interesting example put forward by one of New Zealand’s top diplomats of his day, a man of faith, and of great integrity.  Addressing the Annual General Meeting of the Anglican Pacifist Fellowship some years ago he began with this: “What should the Good Samaritan have done if he had arrived on the scene an hour or so earlier when the assault was taking place?”  He is lauded for his “mopping-up operation”, and two thousand years later his “name” is still synonymous, even with those who do not consider themselves Christian, with loving service to those in need.  But what if he had arrived when the attack was taking place?  Should he have simply stood by and waited until it was time to clean up? Would he be lauded today if he had resorted to armed force in order to drive off the attackers?

This “argument” was grounded for me when I attended a talk given by Fr Michael Lapsley, a New Zealand born priest who supported the ANC in South Africa, and who was severely injured when he was sent a parcel bomb by the South African Security forces.  Fr Michael said that at one time he would have described himself as a Christian pacifist, but not any more.  However, it wasn’t the injuries to himself that had changed his views: that change had come about much earlier when he had witnessed security forces open fire on a crowd of unarmed youths and children who were demonstrating.  He realised that, if he had been armed at the time, he would have felt compelled to open fire on the attackers as the only way to save those young people in that situation.

What these two cases made me realise is that our Lord’s teaching forbids SELF-DEFENCE; but he does not seem to have addressed the issue of the defence of others.  If I am attacked I should not retaliate; if the Christian community is attacked, it should not retaliate.  That, I think, is undeniably the teaching of Christ.  Indeed, even among those scholars who spend their entire careers trying to discount so much of Christ’s teaching as the creative work of the gospel writers themselves, there seems to be near unanimous agreement that this teaching can only have come from Jesus.  It is so counter-cultural – and so “unacceptable” to all right-thinking citizens – that no gospel writer would have invented it.  Spreading the message would have been so much easier without this bit in it!

And we also have the witness of the practice of the Church in the first three centuries of its existence.  Until the fourth century when Constantine and his successors decided to divide the world into the Christian Roman Empire and everyone else, to bear arms, to be a soldier, was officially considered to be incompatible with membership of the Church.

So where does all this leave us?  In need of protection, perhaps, from the warring factions of pacifist zealots and their militaristic counterparts.  My personal difficulty during my years as a member of the Anglican Pacifist Fellowship was to resist what I saw as a form of pacifist legalism, or extremism, which came to a head when the majority insisted that the Fellowship should oppose armed intervention by an international peace-keeping force with a mandate to keep warring factions apart while a peace agreement could be worked out.

All Jesus’ teaching is surely first and foremost about love.  The question for us as we seek to follow him is always the same: what in this particular situation I now find myself in is the most loving thing to do?  People like Fr Michael have taught me that to sit on my principles while others are massacred may not meet that test.  The harder part is to accept, as the shadow of the cross begins to fall across our path, that our own life is not to be saved at the cost of our enemy’s.

Leviticus.  It is somewhat ironic to move from a struggle against legalism to a consideration of a passage from the Book of Leviticus!  Yet it has one marvellous point we should not skip past as we read or listen to it.  The reason why we should follow all these “rules and regulations” is not so that we may avoid penalties for infringements or earn Brownie points for compliance, but so that we can become holy – that is, we may become like God.  Of course, some of the specific prohibitions in the Book of Leviticus strike us as bizarre (thank goodness this reading ends at verse 18!), but that’s not the point.  The point is, now I come to think of it, an earlier version of what I said above about the guiding principle of love.  In EVERY situation, says the Book of Leviticus, seek the will, the teaching, the instruction, of the Lord your God.

Taking It Personally.

·        Focus on some routine, everyday activity and ask yourself how you might apply these principles to that activity.  For example, when you clean your teeth, how might you do it in a thoughtful, faithful way?  You may give thanks for the gift of water (or your teeth!); you may remember those who do not have a safe and secure water supply; you may commit yourself to be even more careful in your use of water, and so on.  In other words, what is the most loving (or godly) way of cleaning your teeth?

·        Libel/slander has been much in our news this week.  Reflect on your own “record” this week.  Have you spoken ill of anyone – even under your breath?

·        Similarly, review your week in the light of verses 17 and 18.  Is there anyone to whom you need to be reconciled, or to whom you owe an apology?  Are you bearing a grudge or other ill-feeling towards anyone else at the moment?

 

Corinthians.  St Paul has now worked himself up into one of his periodic lathers, although he is not quite ready to change the subject.  For our purposes this week I suggest verses 16 and 17 are the heart of the message.  Just as each one of us needs to live our lives of faith guided by the Spirit in each and every circumstance, so collectively we must recognise that, as a community of faith, we are being built into a temple for that Spirit.  Our neighbour should see in each one of us, and in our community of faith, the better way.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        A time for spiritual stock-taking.  Can your neighbour see in you a little more each year of the difference your faith is making in your life?  Are you a better advertisement for the Christian way of life than you were a year ago?

·        What evidence might there be of the presence of the Holy Spirit in your local church compared to your local supermarket?

·        Are you aware of any divisiveness or factionalism in your local church?  If you are, have you contributed to it in any way?  What can you do to help heal the wounds?

 

Matthew.  To a persecuted minority in an occupied country Jesus gives this teaching.  And notice how personal he makes it.  Sometimes we might try to turn this whole issue into major debates and intellectual discussions, or at least into political arguments.  [Watch what our politicians and our press make of the centenary of the start of World War I.]  To Jesus, and to his listeners, this is no philosophical debate: this is tough every day stuff.  I was going to say, this is about everyday survival, but, of course, following this teaching did not promote his or their survival – it severely lessened their chances.  We have only to “transplant” it into any of the myriad places that fill up our TV news bulletins each night to realise how it must have sounded to the people who heard him.  If we are slapped around we must not strike back; if we are robbed we must not demand restitution; if our churches are burned down we must not burn down our attackers’ mosques.  There is a better way and we can only demonstrate it by the way in which we live and die.  A hearty chorus of Te Harinui is not enough.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        You know what to do with this – line by agonising line.  This way – and only this way – lies spiritual growth.  Good luck!

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