Notes for Reflection

September 28                                    NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts:  Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-32; Philippians 2:1-13; Matthew 21:23-32

Theme:  Not as clear as it might be this week.  Try as I might, I can't quite see in what way the passage from Ezekiel is "related" to the gospel passage.  Come to that I struggle a bit with the relationship between the first part and the second part of the passage from Ezekiel.  So a couple of ideas from Philippians: "The Mind of Christ" might appeal, or the more traditional "The Humility of Christ".  From this lesson, I would go for "The Interests of Others".  From the gospel, one obvious choice would be "Doing What We Say", or (a little more subtle) "Saying Yes In Deed": another might be "The Question of Authority".

Introduction.  We start with Ezekiel, and we seem to have come into an ongoing argument half-way through.  The issue seems to be about accountability to God.  "God is being unfair – we have done nothing wrong yet he is punishing us for the sins of our ancestors."    Their complaint is refuted through Ezekiel.  St Paul is on peak form this week, with a perfect response to the election campaign!  (Yes it is, read verses 3 and 4, and then argue with me!)   And the gospel passage asks some very searching questions of us.  By what authority do we speak and act?   Are we obedient with our lips only?  There is no let up as we continue to journey ever closer to Jerusalem and the Cross.

Background.  If you subscribe to the Diocesan news email you will know that Archdeacon Stu Crosson has suggested that we in the Church may seek to learn from the electoral fate of the Labour Party.  I must confess that my immediate response was a little sceptical, to say the least; but once I decided to give it a go I have found it quite a helpful exercise.  Listening to some of the Pretenders to the Labour Throne it seems that there is a fundamental conflict between those who what a broad centre party, much like the National Party but wearing red shirts instead of blue, and those who want an unashamedly left-of-centre party more in keeping with its origins and traditions.  What relevance has that debate to the Church?

Quite a lot, as it has already turned out.  There is no doubt that the membership of the Church, and certainly of the Anglican Church, has been in serious decline for some decades now.  I think I'm right in saying that Bishop Kelvin informed Synod that attendance at Anglican churches in this diocese declined by about 8% in the last year.  So there are certainly some similarities with the Labour Party there!  And the parallels become even more obvious when we start considering what we should do about it.  Should we accept that our message is no longer relevant to the people of today and change our message?  Or should we accept that to do that is to deny the very reason for our existence?

Where to start?  Well, one of the Pretenders quoted something attributed to Julia Gillard:  "Labour needs to pay more attention to those who work hard, and less to those who complain the loudest."  I have spent quite a bit of time reflecting on that, and have found it surprisingly fruitful.  It is just the sort of statement that on its face sounds eminently sensible, doesn't it?  But try this quick exercise for yourself.  Consider the phrase "those who work the hardest" and see what sort of people come to mind.  Entrepreneurs, business people, farmers, doctors, and other professionals?  Or did you immediately think of solo Mums doing two or three cleaning jobs while the rest of us sleep?  And try the same exercise with that other phrase "those who complain the most".  What sort of people came immediately to mind for you?  Did you immediately think of the Pike River families discovering this week that Solid Energy has been misleading them for at least the last year?  Or the Christchurch people still in an insurance-created limbo four years after their homes were damaged or destroyed?  Are they too loud and persistent in their complaints?

The implication of Julia Gillard's reputed remark is that all those who are working hard are good guys, and all those who are complaining the loudest are whingers and moaners who won't get off their backsides to help themselves.  That might be a popular view – that might appeal to the voting centre – but should it appeal to those of us who seek to follow Christ?

In the middle of all this the ODT included a comment from an Auckland priest who "confessed" to being a National Party supporter, and quoted from St Paul's Second Lesson to the Thessalonians (probably the only person to do so in the entire election campaign and aftermath!)  "Anyone not willing to work should not eat."  Again, it all sounds so reasonable and sensible – and coming from St Paul it must be right.  Never mind that it was quoted completely out of context; and never mind, too, that the same St Paul wrote this to the Ephesians: "Thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labour and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy."  It's that last phrase, surely, that distinguishes the Christian ethic from the "work" ethic.  Think bigger barns here.  Are we working hard in order to build up our own asset base, or are we working hard in order to "have something to share with the needy"?

And this week we have another unambiguous teaching from St Paul to digest: "Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.  Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others."  How's that for a winning campaign slogan?

And here's the rub for the Church.  We are not in charge of the message: we cannot change it to increase our popularity.  We have been called and sent into the world to proclaim the kingdom of God, not to conform to the world as it is.  To a culture obsessed with selfies we must proclaim a message of self-denial.  That ain't easy, and it never has been.  The only person ever to succeed in building a broad church was Emperor Constantine.  Without his imperial authority and military might, conversion is a long, slow and difficult process.

But perhaps Stu Crosson is on to something.  The Labour Party also started from scratch, with a sense of mission and a message of fairness and justice.  It was unashamedly on the side of the powerless and the dispossessed: it challenged the ruling elite of its time, and it won power, not through toning down its message to become popular, but by converting more and more people to its cause.  Could the Church learn something from that?

Ezekiel.  The passage starts off with those important words we find in many prophetic utterances: "The word of the Lord came to me".  This is the answer to the question, "By what authority are you doing these things?"  Then we learn of this strange proverb.  In the first parish in which I served the idea of "inter-generational sin" suddenly had its moment in the sun, and for some reason it was linked with Lodge membership.  One of the parishioners had assured a woman that the reason for her present illness was that her Great- Grandfather had been a mason.  I suspect that this was the last desperate throw of the dice: unable to find anything in the woman's own "record", and quite sure that all illness is sent by God as a punishment, the parishioner "explained" that the sufferer was bearing the guilt of her Masonic forbear.  Perhaps the people of Ezekiel's time were running a similar wacky theological line in his day.  But the second part of the passage raises a more interesting point.  Was God being too forgiving of those who had offended but had turned over a new life?  Conversely, was God too harsh on first offenders who had previously led blameless lives?

Taking It Personally.

·        Reflect on that opening phrase, "The word of the Lord came to me."  How seriously do you take it?  Is it just a formula used to add a little extra grunt to Ezekiel's own idea, or does it mean what it says?  Have you experienced occasions when the word of the Lord has come to you?

·        Think about the way in which our Judges take into account an offender's previous record.  Should an offender convicted of offence number 15 be given a greater penalty because of the preceding 14?  Conversely, should a first offender be given a lighter sentence because he has not offended before?

·        Should genuine remorse (repentance) be taken into account?

 

Philippians.  This really is a passage that needs no comment or explanation.  It is pure gold all the way through.  First, a plea for unity – we are to be of one mind.  Selfies are absolutely prohibited – group photos only are allowed in the Church!  Oh, and by the way, the one mind we are to be of is none other than the mind of Christ, and in case we're not sure of what that entails, we are given this glorious hymn of praise to Christ's humility.  Yes, all this is a big ask, but doable when we remember "it is God that is at work in [us], enabling [us] both to will and to work for his good pleasure".  St Paul will now take your questions.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        A passage for slow reflection and self-examination.  Start with your own spiritual stock-take.

·        Now reflect on your local community of faith.  Are the members of one mind? 

·        What about the wider church?  How well does that stand up to your scrutiny in the light of this passage?

·        Are you aware of God working in you and enabling you to will and do what he wills?

·        What do you think it means to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling"?

 

Matthew.  We should take a moment to understand that we there is something of a disconnect between where the gospel narrative is now and where we are in the Church year.  This passage is set in Holy Week.  Jesus has entered Jerusalem, cleansed the Temple, had a bit of a go at a fruitless fig tree, and now come back to the Temple.  Things must be rather tense, to say the least.  The chief priests and the elders demand an explanation from him, but Jesus is evasive.  He turns their challenge back on themselves by asking them about the source of John the Baptist's authority.  It's interesting that John the Baptist is still such an important figure that the chief priests and the elders cannot risk upsetting the crowd by denying his prophetic calling.  Jesus follows up this win with a rather contrived parable about two sons.  One presumably represents Israel, and the other those who are turning to him.  For those who think we should never say anything challenging or hurtful and always be unfailingly nice, Jesus shows us his approach.  Prostitutes and tax-collectors get it – why can't you?

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        This really is the nub of the issue for the Church.  By what authority does the Church speak?  Does that authority come from heaven or is it of human origin?

·        Which of the sons are you most alike?  The one who instantly says the right things, but doesn't carry through; or the one who says the wrong thing, cools down, thinks about it, and does the right thing?

·        Should priests and lay preachers be free to believe and teach whatever they wish, or would that exceed the authority given to them?  Should they be held to account if they contradict the orthodox beliefs of the Church?

·        Should those seeking ordination be "tested" for orthodoxy before they are accepted for ordination?

·        Is the Church best served by a unified message or by a diversity of views?

 

Notes for Reflection

September 21                                    NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts: Jonah 3:10-4:11; Philippians 1:21-30; Matthew 20:1-18

Theme: If I knew how to spell it I might be tempted to suggest "Schadenfreude" as a theme for this week, but I don't want to sound like one of those terrible foreign people trying to manipulate the outcome of Saturday's Big Night In.  So I'm going with the phrase that struck me and has continued to buzz around in my head from our gospel reading this week.  That phrase is "Whatever is Right".

Introduction.  Let's have no complaints about the readings this week!  We begin with one of the most entertaining, psychologically astute, and spiritually profound stories in the Scriptures.  Who among us can claim that we have absolutely no Jonah in our own character?  This part of Jonah's story is the perfect entree to the main meal of perhaps the most important of all Jesus' parables, certainly of the so-called kingdom parables.  Who among us can claim that we would never ever think of complaining if someone else was paid the same as us for far fewer hours of labour?  And in-between we have this week's passage from St Paul reminding us that "all this is God's doing".  Grace, not contract law, is the operative principle in the Kingdom of God.

Background.  I suppose most if not all election campaigns have elements of the bizarre in them; but surely this one has gone far beyond all the others?  It seems to have been dominated by politicians of all stripes and media of all kinds constantly complaining that trivial matters such as character assassination, privacy and mass surveillance are the only things that politicians of all stripes and media of all kinds are talking and writing about to the exclusion of the real issues, variously said to be the economy, industrial relations, minimum wage, living wage, poverty, jobs, benefits, inequality, and so on.  In short, what the politicians of all stripes and the media of all kinds would really like to talk and write about, if only they would let themselves, is what is known to us as The Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard.  So let's do that now.

The first thing to do in any rational discussion is to define our terms, and the essential term to define here is "Usual Daily Wage".  In monetary terms that was 1 denarius, and it was set at that level because it was the basic amount needed by the worker and his/her dependents to live for one day.  In our terms it was a "living wage", and because it was unthinkable to pay a worker less than a living wage it was also the minimum wage.  And notice that this was the "usual" daily wage.  It wasn't decreed by law; and it didn't depend on the availability or otherwise of labour; and it didn't vary from employer to employer.  It was the custom to pay workers the daily (living) wage because that's what they needed to live.  Okay, that's the issue of definition dealt with; we're now ready to follow the story.

"Early in the morning" – let's say 6.00am – the landowner went out to hire workers for his vineyard.  We're not given much detail here, but it may well be that those who wanted work that day collected – perhaps in the "marketplace" (verse 3) - and hoped for the best.  They were all hoping for work but not all made the first cut.  Those who did agreed to work for the day for the usual daily wage.  There was a collective agreement under which they were all to receive the same wage regardless of any personal differences in previous experience, skill levels, training or education.  We call such a payment a stipend.

Three hours later the landowner is back, although we are not told why.  It may well be that he needs more workers, but that is only an assumption.  He finds "others standing idle in the marketplace".  Pause.  Any "dog-whistling" going on here, do you think?  How do we react to the phrase "standing idle"?  Is it simply a statement of fact, or is it meant pejoratively?  Are they reluctantly idle, still hoping against hope that somebody will hire them, or are they work-shy layabouts preferring to hang out with their deadbeat mates?  Perhaps a mixture of the two, but the landowner sees no need to inquire or discriminate.  He hires the lot, promising to pay them "whatever is right".  "So they went."  No negotiation, no demand for more transparency, no reluctance – they just went.  These unemployed wanted work.

But wait, there's more.  The whole drama is repeated at noon, and again at 3.00pm.  And then, with just one hour left in the working day, the landowner turns up again, and this time words are spoken.  He asks them, "Why are you standing here idle all day?"  They give a straight answer: "Because no one has hired us."  So he hires them, and they go even though there seems to be no mention of the pay they might expect.

The action shifts to the end of the day – probably the first and only time in the last few weeks when that phrase actually means what it says.  At the end of the day all the workers receive the usual daily wage, regardless of the number of hours they have worked.  And the predictable hell breaks loose.  That's not fair!  Now let's pause here – not to think about this for a moment – but to feel it.  Which side has our sympathy?  And only when we are in touch with our genuine gut-feeling are we ready to start thinking about it.  What should the landowner have done?  Paid the all-day guys more (than they had agreed to), or paid the one-hour guys less (than they needed to survive for another day)?

That these are the two options is underlined by the landowner's response (which, incidentally, is a marvellous amalgam of left- and right –wing thinking!).  First he pleads contractual arrangement – the workers have no right to demand more than their collective agreement calls for.  Secondly, he pleads property rights – it's his money and he can do whatever he likes with it.  Thirdly, what he likes is social justice, fairness, reducing poverty, and closing the income gap.  What he likes is meeting need.  What he abhors is the resentment of those who have earned a living wage towards those whom no one hired (we call them the unemployed) being given enough to live on.

What a pity a proper debate about this parable has been crowded out of our election campaign by those other minor issues.  Or perhaps it's just as well.  We wouldn't want it said of Jesus that he is just another foreigner trying to interfere in our democratic processes, would we?  Perish the thought.

Jonah.  And now for a few more thoughts that might need perishing!  Recall the story so far.  God has called Jonah to a very particular prophetic ministry: Jonah is to go to the great city of Nineveh and tell them to turn from their great wickedness.  But Jonah has no wish to obey because, as we learn a little later in the story, he is afraid that they will heed his message, repent and be saved.  So he takes a fast boat to Tarshish (modern-day Spain), understood in those days to be the edge of the world and the farthest point away from God.  It turns out to be a bad career move; disaster strikes, the boat is sinking, Jonah owns up and volunteers to be thrown overboard.  There things really turn weird for a while, but the upshot (pun alert!) is that Jonah is rescued by God and given a second chance.  Through gritted teeth, Jonah delivers God's message to the Ninevites, and – wouldn't you know it  - they repent.  Meanwhile Jonah is still hoping against hope for the spectacular destruction of the city and has taken up a ringside seat to watch the action.  When God accepts their repentance and spares the city from destruction Joshua is distraught, to put it mildly.  In fact he is so hacked off he wants to die.

Taking It Personally.

·        This Saturday night are you hoping for the political destruction of any particular candidate or party?  How will you feel if that person or party is defeated?  How will you feel if that person or party is not defeated?  On a score of 1-10, how much of a Jonah do you discover yourself to be?

·        Can you recall an occasion on which you were glad when someone received their come-uppance?  With the benefit of hindsight, what do you think of that situation now?

·        Pray for the great city of Dunedin – or the nearest city to your place of residence.  How many people live in the city?  How many of them "do not know their right hand from their left"?    What do you think that expression means in verse 11?

·        Has there been a time when you got yourself into a mess through your own pig-headedness?   Were you conscious of God's help in resolving the situation?  Did that make you more understanding of the problems facing others?

 

Philippians.  In the midst of great personal danger, and widespread persecution of his fellow believers St Paul shows us the true spiritual virtue of indifference.  It is far removed from fatalism or a couldn't-care-less attitude: a better guide might be the traditional wedding vow – "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health".  Such is his commitment to Christ, and it must be the same for us.  [Compare the "faith-swings" of Jonah.]  Whatever our personal circumstances, we are to strive to lead a life worthy of the gospel.  And the key to meeting that challenge is to remember: "this is all God's doing."

Taking It Personally.

 

·        This really is the week for a thorough self-examination!  How much of a Jonah are you?  How much sympathy do you have for the all-day guys?  And, more generally, are you living your life "in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ"?

·        In times of illness or other adversity, are you more inclined to pray for healing or relief, or for the strength to endure?

·        Are you progressing in your faith?  Does it give you joy?  Are you encouraging others to grow in the faith?

 

Matthew.  One other thought about this passage.  The unspoken assumption is that no one WANTS to work – that we do the least we have to in order to "pay the bills".  Is that true of you or of the people you know?  Would you really rather "stand idle in the marketplace" all day if you could be assured of receiving sufficient money to live on?  Of course, the answer to that might depend on the work involved, but as general principle aren't there other rewards to be had from working besides the purely material ones?  Be that as it may, perhaps we need to finish by focusing on that all-important opening phrase "the kingdom of heaven is like".  One of the most telling incidents in my ministry involved a real "salt of the earth" lifetime member of the church who was in a home-group studying repentance and forgiveness, etc.  We were talking about a particularly horrific murder that had occurred in the area recently, and what the "offender" deserved.  The general consensus seemed to be that he deserved to rot in hell.  However, our faith told us that if he truly repented and turned to Christ in faith, he would not rot in hell, but be saved.  Suddenly it dawned on this good woman that this vile offender would, in her words, get "the same deal as the rest of us" and she protested most vigorously – "that's not fair!"  Think about it for a moment.  She had been a member of the church all her life – what was the point if someone signs up at the last moment and gets the same deal?  What does that say about the joy of church membership?

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        A great passage for the prayer of imagination.  Put yourself in the story and follow the drama through.  Monitor your feelings.

·        Which group did you put yourself in?  The first, the last, or one of the intermediate ones?  Why?

·        Or did you put yourself in the position of the landowner doing the hiring?  Why not?

Notes for Reflection

September 14                                    NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts: Genesis 50:15-21; Romans 14:1-12; Matthew 18:21-35

Theme: It really does pick itself this week, however we might want to express it.  Forgiveness  - favoured by all and practised by hardly any – is at the heart of the challenge of discipleship.  Perhaps "Unforgiving Servants" might be catchy enough, but for the really bold among us "Forgive or Be Tortured – Your Choice" might appeal.  (It might also give some indication of how forgiving your faith community really is.)  If subtlety is more your thing, what about "It's All for the Best"?

Introduction.  We start with the Shakespearean conclusion to the Joseph saga, which is a wonderful case study of forgiveness in action, complete with mixed motives, high theology, and the fundamental commitment to the importance of relationship.  At first sight St Paul's contribution this week seems at odds with the other two.  Perhaps it should be understood as providing background or context to the principal teaching on forgiveness: we should be slow to argue with our fellows who hold different views from us, particularly on issues of less than vital importance; and rather than presume to pass judgment on others we should leave that to God.  There is no doubt about the meaning of the parable in our gospel passage this week, is there? 

Background.  The edition of the NRSV that I use has Matthew 18:21 reading thus: Then Peter came and said to him, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive?  As many as seven times?"  It does admit by way of a footnote that the expression "another member of the church" appears in the Greek text as "if my brother"; so perhaps we have here a translator taking a bit of a liberty under the guise of a desire for gender inclusive language.  And yet, in this context isn't the translator merely making clear to us what we might otherwise easily overlook – that this teaching on forgiveness is essentially in-house?  Forgiveness is how the Body of Christ heals itself: going back a step, a willingness to forgive is part of the immune system of the Body of Christ – it is how the Body fights off what could otherwise become a serious infection if it was allowed to fester.  That, it seems to me somewhat belatedly, is the thrust of last week's passage about dealing within the fellowship with an offending member.  Keeping quiet, ignoring it, pretending all is sweetness and light is not the way to promote healing in such cases.

And that reminds me to stress again that to understand any particular passage of Scripture – and particularly any passage in the gospels – we need to be aware of its narrative context.  What precedes it and what follows it?  Chapter 18 as a whole can be seen as a teaching on forgiveness, and one that comes to an almost frightening conclusion in this week's parable.  In fact, a quick glance ahead should be sufficient to emphasise that things are not going to get any easier for the would-be disciple: chapter 19 begins with the teaching on divorce and ends with the story of the rich young man; and chapter 20 opens with the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard.  Nor should we be surprised: we are on the way to the Cross, where the toughest lesson on forgiveness will be given.

Chapter 18 opens with a short sharp lesson on humility.  If we are all-too aware of our own weakness and failings, we are much more likely to be ready to forgive others.  Then follows the need to avoid leading others into sin, and to be strict with ourselves in avoiding temptation.  There is no room here for any suggestion that it is okay to sin against my brother or sister because he or she is "obliged" to forgive me: Romans 6:1 shows that St Paul has heard that one before!

The Parable of the Lost Sheep, like all the major parables, requires constant reflection.  I learned much about this parable from a farmer in the first parish in which I served.  His first response was to suggest that it would be uneconomic to go looking for just one sheep: his second, much more troubling, was to ask what the shepherd should do if the "damn thing" went missing again – and again?  Passing quickly on, last week's passage brought the whole subject down to earth – Practical Theology 101: What to do when a member of the church offends against you.  And here we start getting into real difficulty, because whatever else that passage tells us it states that there are limits to forgiveness, but what those are may not be quite as clear as they could be.  The passage implies that, as a matter of fact, X has offended against Y; but what does it mean when it speaks of X "refusing to listen"?  It may mean X takes the line of "So what?"  "Don't be such a sensitive sausage!"  In other words, X does not deny the charge, but refuses to take it seriously.  But could it not also mean that X simply disputes the truth of the allegation?  In which case, if we follow the process through, the church has to make a judgment on the matter.  And the removal of the offender from the fellowship, rather than forgiveness, is the outcome.

Which gets us to today's passage, where further difficulties abound.  First, Peter asks the question that occurred to my farmer friend: what if the "damn thing" does it again?  The short answer is not intended to be mathematically precise: it can only mean there is no limit on the number of times we are to forgive the offending member.  Does the parable contradict that?  Well, yes and no.  It deals with a rather different situation: the fault here is that the servant, having been forgiven a huge debt – immediately refuses to forgive a fellow servant a lesser debt; whereupon his lord loses his rag and sentences him to imprisonment and torture; which, says Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, is what "my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart".

Which seems to mean that we are absolved of our own sins, but will be held to account for failing to forgive someone who offends against us.  Can forgiveness by coercion ever be said to be forgiveness from the heart?

Perhaps the real lesson in all this is that forgiveness is only possible in and through love.  We forgive with our hearts not our heads.  We go on forgiving as long as, but only as long as, we go on loving.  That's surely what Jesus' answer to Peter meant.  And it is certainly the only way we can understand the lesson on forgiveness given on the cross.  When we come to the point that we can love even those who are killing us, forgiveness won't seem nearly as hard.

Genesis.  I love the stories around the Jacob-Joseph saga, and this week's one is a fitting conclusion to the whole drama!  Boy, do we get to see human nature as it really is!  One of the questions I have been asked many times in my years in ministry is this: are we supposed to forgive even when the offender has not apologised and asked for forgiveness?  Isn't forgiveness to be restricted to those who are genuinely remorseful?  Well, read this passage and decide for yourself.  Are the brothers genuinely remorseful; or are they as cunning and conniving as they always have been?  Is lying about the last words of your dead father a sign of anything other than deceit born of fear and desperation?  Shouldn't Joseph have responded with a bit more back-bone: "You lying, snivelling dogs!  How dare you use our beloved father like that!  Get out of my sight!"  But Joseph's approach was quite the opposite: at least with the benefit of hindsight, he could see that God had brought to good what the brothers had intended for evil.  Again, the key point is that this is an issue between brothers – they are in a relationship that is desperately in need of healing, and Joseph's response is the only way in which it can be healed.

 Taking It Personally.

• Recall the story of Joseph and his brothers – his somewhat arrogant attitude towards them, at least in the early days.  Is there a thought occurring to you that the little brat brought it on his own head?  Should he apologise to them for his own shortcomings?  Could this be part of the reason for his gracious response towards them now?
• As you read though this passage slowly and prayerfully, notice your own feelings.  How are you feeling towards the brothers?  How are you feeling towards Joseph?  Notice particularly if something from your own family dynamic suddenly comes to mind.  What triggered that?  Is there something you need to do about that?
• In particular, watch for any negative feelings towards Joseph.  Is he letting them off too easily?  What would you like him to do or say to the brothers?  What from your past is this stirring up?
• Focus on verse 20.  With the benefit of hindsight, can you now see the hand of God in the actions of someone who offended you in the past?

 

Romans.  A salutary lesson for all those who are gathered this weekend in Oamaru for our Diocesan Synod!  St Paul gives two examples of the sorts of issues that so often cause dissension in a community of faith – little things of no great importance.  We shouldn't attempt to persuade others to our point of view, when the likely outcome is division and upset within the community of faith.  Gluttony may be a sin, but that does not mean that my spreading midriff calls for corrective comment from my fellow disciples, however slim and self-disciplined they might be!  And this Sunday in some of our churches Holy Cross Day will be observed, but not in others.  That should not lead to critical comment one way or the other.  Those who observe that Day do so in honour of the Lord, not to appear superior to those who do not.  Which leads us to St Paul's closing exhortation: do not pass judgment on one another, for all of us will be called to account by the Lord.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• An opportunity for a personal stock-take.  How inclined are you to get het up about relatively minor things?  How inclined is your local community of faith?  What about Lenten observances and practices?  Would it trouble you to see flowers in the sanctuary during Lent, or if the Gloria was used during a service in Lent? Or the priest's stole was the "wrong" liturgical colour?
• During the last month, have you criticised any other member of your local faith community, or thought critically about another member (including the priest and the organist!)  If so, re-visit verse 4.

 

Matthew.  Yes, the "facts" in this parable are a tad ludicrous.  In what possible circumstances would a king allow a slave to run up such an enormous debt before calling him to account?  According to another helpful footnote in my NRSV a "talent" was equivalent to 15 years worth of the daily labourer's rate of pay, so in terms of denarii (the daily rate of pay was 1 denarius) this guy owed 10,000 x 15 x 365 of them (you do the numbers, I can't).  And the absurdity doesn't end there.  How could he possibly repay that amount?  By contrast he was owed by his fellow slave 100 denarii – a seemingly trifling amount until we remember that's over 3 months' wages.  How might that be repaid?  But, of course, playing these mathematical games is only for those who do not want to face up to the point of the parable:  God's forgiveness is NOT unconditional – only as we forgive others are we ourselves forgiven.  That's what we pray every week – but do we believe it?

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Okay, so what are your counter-arguments?
• Remember that one of the major issues facing the infant church concerned those who had "sold out" during a time of persecution, and then wanted back in when peace returned.  Understandably, those who had stood firm and suffered accordingly were not always in a mood to forgive.  Does this change your view of this passage?
• Of what have you been forgiven by God?  (Limit your answer to 5 foolscap pages.)

Notes for Reflection

September 7                          NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts: Ezekiel 33:7-11; Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20

Theme:  It seems to me that the stand-out favourite this week is "The Works of Darkness", or some variation on that theme.  The other side of the coin might suggest something like "Confronting Sin in Ourselves and Our Faith Communities", but that might sound too, well, confrontational for a Sunday morning.

Introduction.  Whether we like it or not (and few of us do) the readings make it clear that we as a community of faith have a responsibility before God, not only for our own sins as individuals, but also for the sins of other members of the community.  We begin this uncomfortable subject with the prophet Ezekiel, given the role of "watchman" for the people.  His task is to call erring members of the people of God to "turn from their wicked ways".  If he does that, he is not responsible for the sins of those who fail to heed the call: if he does not, he is responsible.  St Paul exhorts the faith community at Rome to "lay aside the works of darkness": and the gospel passage lays down, in some detail, a disciplinary procedure to be followed by a community of faith where it is alleged that a member of that community is at fault.

Background.  I must confess immediately that I bought and read The Book this week (clue, it's by Nicky Hager.)  I thought I knew enough about its contents to brace myself before starting to read it, but my bracing proved hopelessly inadequate.  The stories it laid out in agonising detail painted a far worse picture of corruption and depravity than I had expected.  There was not even a pretence at a worthy cause, no claim to be on the side of truth and justice, no attempt to wear the mask of a whistle-blower defending the public's right to know and risking all for that noble cause.  In fact, the overall impression is one of deceit and concealment : apart from Cameron Slater himself who makes the fabled Narcissus look more like a Violet with a genetic tendency to shrink, all the other principal members of this blogging coven go to extraordinary lengths to hide their identities behind multiple aliases and pseudonyms.  I found particularly galling Mr Slater's use of quotations from the Book of Proverbs to send threatening messages to some of his targets.

One thing that I did find striking is how often their worst abuses were planned and executed at night.  Some of the emails were sent back and forth at three or four o'clock in the morning.  This week's passage from Romans could hardly be more apt.  LOL, as we tech-savvy people say these days.  In my elderly ignorance I had thought that LOL stood for "lots of love", which did seem a little out of place in such messages: I now know that it stands for "laugh out loud", which is equally inappropriate, as there is never anything the least bit funny in the content.  Perhaps "COL" (for "crying out loud") would make more sense.  Anyway, if we want a case study to illustrate what St Paul's term "the works of darkness" means in the modern world we need look no further than Nicky Hager's book.

But of course works of darkness are not unknown inside the Church, as has become all too painfully clear over the last two decades or so.  And perhaps what has caused the greatest concern and outrage has been, not just the particular offences of individual priests and religious, but the perceived failure of the Church to deal with the offenders; and here we see the relevance of our first lesson and our gospel passage this week.

The first point to stress is that both readings are directed in-house: they must not be taken as a blue-print for a secular criminal justice system.  What are we to do if a member of our faith community offends against us?  And immediately that question itself should alert us to the need to DO SOMETHING.  But what about turning the other cheek, forgiving seventy-times-seven and so on?  Two points there, I think.  First, suffering in silence, grinning and bearing it, or keeping quiet and hoping for the best are not forms of forgiveness.  To forgive is to do something positive – it is active, not passive.  Secondly, an offence by one member of the Body of Christ affects the whole Body: to have a poisoned toe is to have a poisoned body.

So we are to do something, and the next obvious question is what are we to do?  The gospel passage sets out what seems on its face to be a simple and straightforward procedure.  But as anyone knows who has attempted to carry it out in practice it is far more complicated than that, particularly where the alleged "offence" would constitute criminal offending.  Here we have a classic clash of "cultures", and one which is almost certain to lead to misunderstanding and claims of cover-up.  The Church is not an agency of State, and it is certainly not an adjunct of the Police Force.  The Church in concerned with sin, not crime.  Bear that in mind as you reflect on the following scenario.

Ms Y, in a private conversation with the vicar of the parish of which she is a member, asks the vicar to ensure that Mr X, the co-ordinator and most active member of the parish's team of pastoral visitors, never visits her at home again.  She is reluctant to say more, but says enough to make the vicar suspect that Mr X has said or done something of a sexual nature that has offended Ms Y.  What course of action should the vicar take?  One answer is that he should draw her attention to Matthew 18:15, and leave it to her to go and see Mr X and attempt to sort it out with him.  Hands up if that was your preferred answer.  How would you feel if the priest or bishop subsequently accused of a cover-up said it was up to MS Y to pursue the matter, and as she did not do so she was the one at fault?

That aside, what should the vicar do?  Call in the alleged offender for a chat?  And if he refuses to come and chat?  Or if he comes and chats and vehemently protests his innocence?  What if he takes the opposite approach – he freely confesses that on reflection what he did or said was indeed inappropriate, and that he would go immediately to Ms Y and apologise and ask her forgiveness?  And what if Ms Y refused to meet with him or to accept his apology?  Is she then at fault and Mr X in the clear?   And all this before any question of criminality arises – or any claim for compensation – or any claim against the diocese's profession indemnity policy – or a formal disciplinary process for a breach of the Code of Pastoral Practice.

Only one thing is clear to me.  The Church has a different agenda in these cases to those of the State and the general public.  Our agenda is reconciliation, not retribution: it is driven by a belief that it is truth that sets us free, not cover-up and denial, but that truth is much more likely to emerge within a community of love, acceptance, understanding and forgiveness than one in which turning a blind eye is considered the best option, or one in which lawyers are just a phone-call away.  I suspect that the difficulty we so often get into with dealing with in-house issues is that we have not yet become a true community of faith, and if that is the case no amount of correct procedure and process, however biblical, will be of much use to us.

Ezekiel.  The danger of a passage such as this is that it appears to be addressed to "him" rather than us – in this case to Ezekiel alone, or, at most, to anyone called to be a prophet.  The rest of us can heave a sigh of relief and keep our heads down and our mouths shut.  However, there is no point in God calling Ezekiel to issue a prophetic warning of this kind if there is no concomitant obligation on the rest of the people to listen to the warning and heed it.  So how open are we, both as individuals and as a community of faith, to messages of this kind?  Are we inclined to thank the prophets among us for warning us in time, or are we more inclined to ask them who the hell do they think they are?

Taking It Personally.

• Have you ever challenged any other member of your local faith community over anything done or said by that person, even though you were not the "target" of that behaviour?
• Have you ever been challenged by any other member of your faith community over anything you have said or done, even though that person was not the "target" of your behaviour?
• Have you been aware from time to time of particular conflicts within your faith community?  How well have they been handled?  If you thought they were not being handled well, what would you do about it?
• Do you agree or disagree that personal conflicts between two or more members of your faith community are properly matters of concern to the whole community and should be dealt with for the sake of the whole community?

 

Romans.  I know I should get thoroughly outraged at hackers and other invaders of privacy – as a recovering lawyer, at the very least – but somehow I don't share the modern obsession with personal privacy.  Part of that may be due to my suspicion that I lack anything in my life that could be of interest to anyone else, so I'm rather sad that no one wants to invade my privacy.  For example, I have never taken a photo of myself stark naked, nor do I understand why other people – even those with far more beautiful bodies than mine – should want to take such photos and store them in "The Cloud", whatever that is.  [Didn't it used to be a large inflated rugby-ball-like structure in the Auckland Viaduct or somewhere?)  But reading The Book brought immediately to mind a rather obscure saying of Jesus in the gospels.  Luke's version goes like this: Nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known.  Therefore whatever you have heard in the dark will be heard in the light and what you have whispered behind closed doors will be proclaimed from the housetops.  [Just one reason why Mr Slater and his cohorts should spend more time reading the gospels instead of the Book of Proverbs.]  St Paul is surely saying much the same thing in this passage.  

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Call to mind the collect for purity (page 405 of the Prayer Book).  How would you feel if we had a more modern version: Almighty God, to whom all emails, texts, and tweets are open, all telephone calls are known, and from whom no secrets are hidden?
• Review the last week.  Is there anything you have said, done or thought that you would rather no one else knew about?  Why would you rather they didn't know about it?

 

Matthew.  Surely the key to understanding this passage is the parable that immediately precedes it.  That parable, known as the Parable of the Lost Sheep, is one of the most beloved, isn't it?  It is so warm and reassuring.  But how often do we think through its application to our parish life?  If someone wanders away from the flock do we tell ourselves it's a free world or do we attempt to find that person and seek to bring that person back to the fellowship of the Church?  If someone leaves in a huff, do we mutter under our breath, "good riddance", and breathe a sigh of relief, or do we attempt to win them back?  And if someone offends us do we follow the approach recommended in this passage, or seek to give back double, or just walk away?

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• So what do you do?  Why?
• Is truth or peace and quiet more important to you?  Which is more important to your local faith community?
• Within your own family do you seek to address conflict or ignore it and hope it goes away?
• Do you agree or disagree that you have a responsibility to the offender to challenge his or her behaviour so that he or she might grow in godliness?  Are you your brother's/sister's "watchman"?