Thursday, March 26, 2015

Palm Sunday

March 29                    NOTES FOR REFLECTION                         Palm Sunday

Texts: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Philippians 2:5-11; Mark 14:1-15:47

Theme: This will very much depend on the practice of your local faith community.  The annual dilemma of having Passion Sunday and Palm Sunday effectively rolled into one means that insufficient attention is given to "The Triumphal Entry".  However, the value of reading the entire Passion narrative as the overture to Holy Week is immense.  Take your pick.  Probably the theme should be "The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ".  But for these Notes, focusing more on the Entry into Jerusalem, I'm going for "The Great Intruder".

Introduction.  Isaiah sets the tone for all that is to come in the next few days, but begins in a very interesting place: the gifts of a teacher are an articulate tongue and a listening ear, and the courage to keep teaching no matter what opponents may do in response.  Undergirding all that is faith in God who will vindicate the teacher.  [Clue: Jesus was known as "Rabbi" (Teacher) and was ultimately put to death for his teaching and his refusal to stop.]  The second lesson has a sting in the head instead of the more usual tail.  "Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus" – that is, the mind of humility, of a total dedication to the needs of others, and an acceptance of the consequences up to and including death on a cross.  How all this plays out in practice is the subject of "The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ according to St Mark".

Background.  If we were to focus our attention on the so-called "Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem" what would we make of it?  How might we describe it?  What might it remind us of?  A street parade for a successful sports team returning in triumph with the much-coveted trophy, perhaps?  A graduation parade through the streets of Dunedin?  A cross-between Mardi Gras and St Patrick's Day celebrations?  Whatever image comes to mind the central question remains the same: what is Jesus doing there?  What, in other words, is the point of Palm Sunday from the perspective of our faith as Christians?

The more I pondered this question the more a curious idea kept coming to me: Jesus is the Great Intruder.  But what could that mean?

Well, let's step back a bit and think of what is happening this weekend.  It is unlikely that those who scheduled the dates of the Cricket World Cup gave much thought to the religious significance of next Sunday, but there it is: the cup final is to be played on Palm Sunday.  Equally, the Prime Minister, in fixing the date for the Northland by-election, probably did not consider the date of Palm Sunday when choosing the date of the by-election, but the fact is that it is to be held on the eve of Palm Sunday.  So somewhere in between those two events – both of great interest to many of us within and outside the church – Jesus arrives at the Holy City riding on a donkey.  Does that matter?  Do we notice?  Do we care?  Or is the outcome of the by-election or the cricket final of far greater interest to us?  And when I say "us" let's be clear that I mean "Christians".  Do we welcome our Lord into all circumstances of our lives, or do we sometimes feel that he is intruding?  Is Jesus The Great Intruder?

Two unrelated stories added layers to this pondering this week.  The first was an article in this week's ODT World Focus from Sweden about the controversial Foreign Minister Margot Wallstrom.  It seems that Sweden is the world's 12th biggest arms exporter, and one of its most important clients is Saudi Arabia.  Under a defence accord between the two countries Swedish firms had made $NZ758 million in 2011-14, but Sweden has now cancelled it because of Saudi Arabia's record on human rights, specifically its attitude towards women, and its recent sentencing of a blogger to a thousand lashes.  Far from being penitent, Ms Wallstrom is quoted as saying: "I won't back down over my statements on women's rights, democracy and that one shouldn't flog bloggers."  It does not appear that Ms Wallstrom is motivated be any religious faith – her principles are based on classic human rights grounds – but the result is the same.  She is accused of intruding into the business interests of Sweden.

Of particular interest to me was the little paragraph towards the end of the article suggesting that one consequence of her stand may be that Sweden will "fail to win enough votes to be a rotating member of the United Nations Security Council".  Dear me!  How naive this woman must be to upset the business and political elite of her day by insisting on human rights for all, women as well as men, Saudis as well as Swedes.  History tells us that it is not those who claim to be Christians who end up on the cross: it is those who follow Christ's teaching, whether knowingly or not.

The second thing that caught my attention this week was the priority given in news bulletins to the Black Caps' win in the Cup semi-final over all other items of news.  So after several minutes of interviews with people who were related to Grant Elliott, or had been at school with him, or knew someone who had once danced with someone who knew his mother (okay I made that last one up), we learned that a plane had crashed in the French Alps with the loss of all 150 people on board, including two babies and a party of German school children returning from a school trip.  Did anyone in the various newsrooms consider for one moment that the tragic loss of so many lives was more important than Grant Elliott's heroics?  Would it have been different if the plane had crashed in New Zealand, with the loss of 150 New Zealanders?  And, if so, why?

Jesus, the Great Intruder, arrives at the city gates.  Everyone in the city is busy gearing up for a trading bonanza – accommodation, and all other goods and services, are literally at a premium.  The city fathers are drooling in anticipation – an event like this can pour millions into the local economy.  The Temple staff are rushing to make last minute arrangements – the moneylenders, the providers of animals and birds for sacrifice, the priests and Levites, the Temple guards and others in the security business; all have their plans in place.

Not now, Jesus!  Not while the city is busy.  Not while the votes are being counted!  Not while the cricket's on!

Isaiah 50:4-9.  The third of the so-called Servant Songs emphasises the suffering that the Servant will undergo for his faithfulness to God.  The only previous reference to this came in 49:7.  As noted above, it seems to start in a rather strange place, but verse 4 is to be understood as a response to the Lord's complaints in the preceding verses, especially in verse 2: Why was no one there when I came?  Why did no one answer when I called?  Israel has given up on the Lord, turned away from him, no longer sure of God's love for them or his willingness to come to their aid.  The Servant is everything Israel isn't.  When God calls he listens.   He hears God's word day by day and teaches it to others.  He suffers for his obedience: Israel suffers for its disobedience.  He is convinced of the lord's love for him, nearness to him, and willingness to protect and vindicate him.  Far from being cowed by the abuse he suffers he is emboldened and challenges his accusers to bring it on.  They will not prevail.

Taking It Personally.

  • The first challenge is to start each day in listening prayer.  Do you?
  • Are you a listener?  Are you more likely to listen than to speak?  Do you really "hear what the Spirit is saying to the Church", or does your mind wander off while the lessons are being read in the service?
  • Do you have "the tongue of a teacher"?    If so, do you use it for that purpose?  If you do not have such a tongue, what sort of tongue do you have?  Do you most often use it to build up or knock down, to encourage or belittle?  Do you have the tongue of a wise person or a critic?  Are you in control of your tongue or does it get away from you on occasions?
  • Have you ever suffered because of your faith?  If someone criticises your faith, how do you respond?

 

Philippians 2:6-11.  This great hymn of the Lord's humility is one of the more famous passages in St Paul's writings, on a par with his great ode to love in 1 Corinthians 13 but probably not as much loved.  It's too scary to be popular.  It visualises the Son of God in free-fall.  He starts from heaven and falls down and then further down.  He sets aside his divine status to become fully human; in terms of human society he takes the lowest possible status, that of a slave; and then accepts in death the status of a convicted felon under God's curse.  In a world where upward mobility is promoted as the way to the good life, Jesus embodies downward mobility in its most extreme form.  That is the only way to honour and glory in God's kingdom.  And, we are told at the start of this passage, we should have the same mindset on this matter as Christ did.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • This passage is particularly good preparation for Good Friday.  Read it slowly, preferable aloud, each day from now until then.  Let it soak into you.
  • Let it challenge any element of pride, ambition or envy that may be in you.  Use it for a spiritual stock-take as you enter Holy Week.
  • Spend some time in prayer, repeating the mantra "Jesus Christ is Lord".  In what way is it true that Jesus is the lord of your life?

 

The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ according to St Mark.  Hopefully you belong to a faith community where the whole story (from 14:1 through to 15:47) will be read on Sunday, and read well.  Listen to it as carefully and intently as you can – not with your brain but with your heart.  Don't let your brain side-track you with clever ideas, or questions, or speculations.  Enter into the whole journey step by step.  Hear the plotting and mutterings, and the fear, among the religious elite as the Festival draws near.

 

Go with Jesus to Bethany: watch as the woman approaches Jesus and anoints him.  Hear the uproar this causes, even as you smell the sweet perfume of the nard.  See the expression on Jesus' face as he accepts her love, and his change of expression as he rebukes her critics.  Be aware of your feelings as you hear of Judas' betrayal.  Walk on through the practical interlude as the mundane details for the Passover meal are made, and the shocking disclosure that Jesus makes to his disciples that one of their own number is about to betray him.  Hear the protestations of them all.

 

Listen to the blessed words of the Eucharist, immediately followed by the hollow bluster of Peter.  How well Jesus knows him!  Spend time with Jesus in Gethsemane and enter into his anxiety and personal struggle.  Watch as he is arrested and subjected to trumped-up charges before the ruling council. Stand in the cold dark court-yard and hear Peter's fear as he denies even knowing Jesus, and hear that awful crowing of the cock.

 

As the darkness gives way to morning, follow again as Jesus is brought before Pilate,  Watch as that hapless man gives up what little shred of conscience he might still have had in favour of a quiet life.    Hear the mocking cries of the lynch mob.

 

And walk on to the cross.  Watch the final acts of barbarism inflicted on Jesus' shattered body.  Wait at the cross until death ends his torment.

 

THEN TAKE IT ALL VERY PERSONALLY INDEED.


 

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Passion Sunday

March 22                    NOTES FOR REFLECTION                          Passion Sunday

Texts: Jeremiah 31:31-34; Hebrews 5:5-10; John 12:20-33

Theme: Something about journey's end, perhaps, as we are now but a week away from Jerusalem.  But how to capture all that in one short phrase?  Perhaps "All that Lies Ahead", or "No Turning Back Now" may capture some of the expectancy/dread of this time.  Something more theological might be "The Mystery of Our Faith" or "The Secret Now Revealed".  Last week, I think, I suggested "Lift High the Cross": we might follow that this week with "Lift High the Son of Man".  Finally, we could try a bit of bi-lingualism: "Crux Probat Omnia" (The Cross proves Everything), which I've shamelessly pinched from Richard Rohr.

[Note: Before I forget, we might want to give some thought to the fact that this year the Feast of The Annunciation of our Saviour to the Blessed Virgin Mary falls between Passion Sunday and Palm Sunday.  It brought to my mind the words of Simeon to Mary at The Presentation.  Just a thought.]

Introduction.  I'm not sure that our first lesson from Jeremiah is the happiest of choices for Passion Sunday – it would seem better suited to Maundy Thursday or Pentecost – but there we are.  God announces a fundamental change from external guidance by others to internal knowledge by all.  (The Teacher becomes the Holy Spirit.)  The lesson from the Letter to the Hebrews is also about transformation: the Suffering Servant becomes the Great High Priest.  And to continue this line of thought, in our gospel reading "the Son of Man" becomes "I" (Jesus).

Background.  Last week I mentioned that Trish had drawn my attention to Richard Rohr's reflection on the practice of "gazing" at Christ on the Cross – the practice of looking to a crucifix for healing – in chapter 9 of his book Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality.  The whole chapter (in fact, the whole book) is brilliant, and it's impossible to do it justice in just one short quote.  But the following is specifically on the point I raised about the use of the crucifix in comparison with the "Snake-on-a Stick" story in the Book of Numbers.  With John 19:37 in focus (which quotes from Zechariah 12:10 – "They will look on the one whom they have pierced") Rohr writes this (at p.186):

Those who "gaze upon" the crucified long enough - with contemplative eyes – are always healed at deep levels of pain, unforgiveness, aggressivity and victimhood.  It demands no theological education at all, just an "inner exchange" by receiving the image within and offering one's soul back in safe return.  No surprise that C.G. Jung is supposed to have said that a naked man nailed to a cross is perhaps the deepest archetypal symbol in the Western psyche.

The crucified Jesus certainly is no stranger to human history either.  It offers, at a largely unconscious level, a very compassionate meaning system for history.  The mystery of the rejection, suffering, passion, death and raising up of Jesus is the interpretative key for what history means and where it is all going.  Without such cosmic meaning and soul significance, the agonies and tragedies of humanity feel like Shakespeare's "sound and fury signifying nothing".  The body can live without food easier than the soul can live without such meaning.

If all these human crucifixions are leading to some possible resurrection, and are not dead-end tragedies, this changes everything.  If God is somehow participating in human suffering, instead of just passively tolerating it and observing it, that also changes everything – at least for those who are willing to "gaze" contemplatively.

One of the most striking elements of Jesus' several references to his forthcoming death and resurrection lies for me in the absence of any explanation as to WHY the Son of Man must be handed over, mistreated, killed, etc; and nobody seems willing to ask him.  (It's rather like his somewhat unhelpful response to John in Matthew's version of Jesus' baptism: it is necessary because it is necessary.)  So it has been left to his followers, from St Paul onwards, to "explain" why Jesus had to die on the cross; and what a pig's breakfast they and we have made of it ever since.  What most of our "explanations" are really about is our own human nature projected onto God.  God, we say, is a God of Justice – and we usually say it a lot louder than we say "God is a God of Love".  Worse, we attribute to God the same understanding of "justice" as we have.  Our "Justice" is often little more than a scarcely disguised version of payback, utu, or tit-for-tat.

And so we have created for ourselves a God who demands that somebody be held accountable for the wrong done to him.  Why?  Because that's exactly what we want when somebody does harm to us.  That one false step leads us more and more into the extraordinary intricacies, contradictions and mind-numbing incoherencies of much of our theology surrounding the Cross.  From it all emerges a God (whom we often call "almighty"!) who is powerless by his very nature to accept the human race back into his presence without first sacrificing his own beloved Son!

All this to avoid the awful truth that on the Cross Jesus revealed to us that the only remedy for sin is love – that the only response to violence and wrongdoing of any kind is forgiveness – that the only way to take away the sin of the world is to die rather than commit it.  And, of course, what Jesus revealed on the Cross is not some sort of idea of his own – some last piece of teaching – what he was revealing on the Cross was the true nature of God.  God is NOT what we always took him to be, and still would like him to be in his dealings with other people.  God is a God who refuses to stop loving us whatever we do to him – even if we torture him and nail him to a cross.

Is that the God whom we see when we gaze at a crucifix?  A God who is lifted up so that all can see him as he really is?  A victim-God in whose image we are made, rather than a God of payback made in our own image?  Is that the God to whom we are all drawn?

St Peter writes (1 Peter 2:23-24): When he was abused, he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly.  He himself bore our sins in his body one the cross, so that free from sins, we might live for righteousness: by his wounds you have been healed.

Jeremiah 31:31-34:  In my NRSV chapter 31 is headed "The Joyful Return of the Exiles", and it's all about a fresh start.  It's a sort of early prototype of the Reformation – for good and ill!  Individualism is to the fore: the passage preceding this week's reading is sub-headed "Individual Retribution" (not a particularly helpful choice of words), but it signals a move away from the idea of being punished for the sins of our forefathers, and towards being accountable only for our own sins.  More positively, this week's passage foresees a time when all will "know God", and we will not need the instruction of others.  The age of "external spirituality" will give way to what today we might call an inner life.  A movement from head to heart – from "study about" to "experience of".  From Rabbi to the Spirit of Truth.  And do notice what will enable all this to come about: "for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more."  True spirituality sprouts in the earth of forgiveness.

Taking It Personally. 

 

  • Do you more easily experience God outwardly or inwardly?
  • In what sense (if any) do you believe that God's law is written on your heart?  Is that a helpful or an unhelpful image for you?
  • Are you at peace with God?  Do you truly feel forgiven?
  • Have you experienced the joy of a returning exile, or have you never been away from God?

 

Hebrews 5:5-10.  There is sometimes a sense in reading or listening to the Letter to the Hebrews that the author is answering questions that we ourselves are not asking.  Clearly, one big issue in the circles in which he was mixing at the time was a grappling with a world in which the centre of their religious life – the Temple – was no more.  And their teachers were telling them that a temple is no longer required – it had been replaced, so to speak, by Christ.  What did that mean?  What was the relationship between the Temple and Christ?  And rather like the process of trying to "explain" the necessity of Jesus' death on the cross, the Letter to the Hebrews shows some signs of the way in which an answer to one question seems only to lead to a new question.  This week's passage seems to focus on the practice of religion, not merely in the absence of the Temple, but also in the absence of a priesthood.  Don't we need priests any longer?  The answer is that Christ is now our Great High Priest.  How did that come about?  In the same way that any other High Priest has taken office, through God's call.  But, of course, Christ does not belong to the "ordinary" order of priests: he is "a high priest according to the order of Melchizedek".  This takes us right back, of course, to Abraham – and perhaps to an echo of Jesus' saying: "Before Abraham was, I am."

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • Perhaps for us the important verses are 7-9.  Ponder them slowly and deeply.  Ask the Spirit to lead you deeper into their truth.
  • In verse 7 there is a description of Jesus' prayers.  How do they compare with your own?
  • In verse 8 Jesus "learned obedience through what he suffered".  What do you make of that?  In times of suffering do you feel closer to, or farther away from, God?

 

 John 12:20-33.  As so often is the case with passages taken from this gospel, it is almost impossible to summarise this one.   It seems to start off with some surprisingly mundane detail, as if set in the bureaucratic corridors of power.  Jesus, the one who was accessible to all, now has a series of gatekeepers filtering his visitors.  Go to Philip; if he's okay with you, he'll check with Andrew, and if you get another "yes" from him the two of them will take your request to Jesus.  It is usually said that the arrival of some Greeks is taken by Jesus to be confirmation that his hour has come because it signifies the start of the in-gathering of the Gentiles, a sure sign of the End of the Age.  Would that have not been the case if they had come directly to Jesus instead of through a couple of intermediaries?  Then follows the nearest Jesus comes to an "explanation" of why he must die, with his analogy of the seed falling to the ground; followed by the familiar assertion that to be a servant of his we must follow him.  That this is no easy choice is immediately made clear by Jesus' own emotional turmoil, the nearest this gospel comes to the agony in Gethsemane.  Then comes the voice from heaven, and we recall his baptism and his transfiguration.  In the first case the voice addresses him and no one else hears it; in the second the voice addresses the three disciples with him.  This time "the crowd standing there" heard something, but were unsure what.  Those who have ears to hear, let them hear.  Perhaps the most interesting verse is 32: "And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself."  The mask of talking about himself in the third person (as the Son of Man) has suddenly fallen away: cf. verse 23.  The explanatory note in verse 33 seems absurdly unnecessary.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • Spend more time "gazing upon" a crucifix or a picture of Jesus on the cross.  Don't rush it, and don't try to have any profound thoughts. Just stay focused on it for as long as you can.  Repeat daily up to and including Good Friday.

  • On Holy Saturday spend time reminding yourself that it is THAT death into which you entered through baptism, and that all is now over for you.

  • On Easter Day enter into the joy of resurrection with thanksgiving and praise, for you have been raised up with him!

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Fourth Sunday in Lent

March 15                    NOTES FOR REFLECTION                         Fourth Sunday in Lent

Texts:   Numbers 21:4-9; Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21*

[*Temptation comes in many forms.  This week it comes in the form of "Mothering Sunday" or "Refreshment Sunday" – anything to escape the rigours of the journey to the Cross.  Like all such temptations it should be vigorously resisted.]

Theme:  Perhaps we should follow up last week's readings with something like "The Foolishness of God Part II"?  For the musically inclined among us "Lift High the Cross" might be better.  For various reasons I'm going for "Aids and Idols".

Introduction.  We start this week with one of the stranger stories in Scripture that must present something of a challenge to even the most ardent biblical literalists, for in the eyes of the world what could be more foolish than thinking that gazing at a bronze snake-on-a-stick could operate as an antidote for the venom of real snakes?  But there's more to this strange little story, and its application in St John's gospel, than a particularly bizarre form of alternative medicine.  This week it seems to be left to St Paul to inject a little commonsense (or, at least, commonly understood theology) into our discussions – leaving aside verse 6, that is.

Background.  It has taken me years to begin to feel more kindly towards this strange little story.  Part of my problem is that I have an excessive dislike/phobia of snakes: for me they are the strongest argument I know against the principle of biodiversity – I would shed not one tear if all snakes became extinct.  But leaving primitive fear aside, my more adult objection to this story is that it defies any form of commonsense.  What on earth is it supposed to mean?  How does it increase our faith?  Would we ever have this story in the Lectionary if the author of the Fourth Gospel had not put (very improbably) an analogy drawn from it in the mouth of Jesus?  I think not.

However, looking back I can see two important steps in my journey to accept if not embrace this story.  The first step was a story published in a scientific journal (I think, or it could have been in Time Magazine) about an attempt to clean up some wetlands that had been seriously damaged by a large-scale chemicals spillage.  After much head-scratching, and a fruitless search for chemicals that would neutralised the ones doing the damage without doing further damage to the wetlands, the scientists charged with finding a solution recommended the intensive planting of willow trees in the wetlands.  The theory was that the willows would suck up the poisons in the water through their roots, eventually killing the trees.  As the trees died they would be pulled up and burnt, thereby destroying the poisonous substances within them.

I remember using this story in a sermon not long after reading it, using it, of course, as an illustration of the way in which Jesus took upon himself all the sins (=poisons) of the world on the cross (the tree) and died.  I like to think that I immediately recognised that this use of the story is illustrative of the way in which the author of the Fourth Gospel used the story of the snake-on-a-stick to "explain" Jesus' saving work on the Cross, but I think it more likely that that particular bit of the truth dawned on me a little later than that – like the next time this story turned up in the Lectionary (3years later?).

The second important step in my progress with this story came when some kindly soul drew my attention to 2 Kings 18:4, where the author says of King Hezekiah (a good king who was a zealous reformer) "He broke in pieces the bronze serpent that Moses made, for until those days the people of Israel had made sacrifices to it; it was called Nehushtan."  As always with Old Testament texts, names are revealing.  It seems that "Nehushtan" sounds like the Hebrew words for "bronze", "snake", and for "unclean thing".  As for this incident itself, the note in the NIV Study Bible is helpful:

It is unlikely that the bronze snake had been an object of worship all through the centuries of Israel's existence as a nation.  Just when an idolatrous significance was attached to it is not known, but perhaps it occurred during the reign of Hezekiah's father, Ahaz (see ch.16).  Snake worship of various types was common among ancient Near Eastern peoples.

The plot thickens, simultaneously revealing the reason for my choice of theme ("Aids and Idols") and raising all sorts of awkward questions.  Three occur to me now, which are, in increasing order of difficulty, as follows.  The first one can safely be left to Ph.D. aspirants desperately seeking a topic for their thesis: did the author of the Fourth Gospel know of this incident, and, if so, why did he choose to ignore it?

The second is based on the analogy of the snake-on-a stick with Christ on the Cross, or, more accurately, with a crucifix.  Is there any real difference between looking in extremis towards a bronze snake or a wooden crucifix?*  My faith, and my own practice, wants to scream out OF COURSE THERE [EXPLETIVE DELETED] IS! – but I'm not sure I can spell out exactly what it is, or convince a non-believer that there is any difference at all  The people of Israel, of course, were worshipping the bronze snake (making offerings to it), not just gazing at it for inspiration, comfort or as an aid to prayer.  But the line is surely a thin one.  Which side of the line are we when we "venerate the cross" or kiss a crucifix?

And now to bring this ancient story right up to the present time: when news broke this week of the destruction of ancient statues and image by ISIS militants in the Iraqi cities of Hatra and Nimrud did you note that their "defence" for such vandalism was that religious idols are an offence against Islam?  And, if you did, did you immediately recall Hezekiah and his destruction of the bronze snake-on-a-stick?  No, nor did I.

But I did experience a very deep sense of outrage this week when a long-standing member of St Barnabas, Warrington told me that in 1977 the then Bishop of Dunedin had put forward a plan to remove the glorious stained-glass windows from that church and demolish the rest of the building!  (I didn't dare ask what the Episcopal plan for the graveyard was.) 

So this short, strange and ancient little tale gives rise to all sorts of musings if we will only give it the time to challenge us; and here's another example, from much closer to home.  In  M.E. Andrew's brilliant book, The Old Testament in Aotearoa New Zealand, the author, commenting on this text, notes this (at p.147):

This incident also found a response in the earlier contact between missionaries and Maori.  Jim Irwin argues that this contact 'led Te Atua Wera... propounding that the Covenant God of the Old Testament appeared to him in the form of Nakahi (serpent) while appearing to Europeans as Jehovah.

Numbers 21:4-9.  Moses should be the Patron Saint of all reformers.  Anyone who advocates change of any kind knows that most people don't want change, even those who have been consulted and given their agreement in advance.  At the first sign of difficulty the retreat starts, and history is rewritten.  Time after time this is brilliantly illustrated in the various stories of the Israelites' travels and travails through the wilderness.  This is one such episode.  The Edomites refuse transit rights, so the long journey gets even longer.  Tempers fray as hunger and thirst again threaten.  The final straw comes with their rejection of the manna from heaven: "we detest this miserable food".  The God of Love hits back with poisonous snakes, and many people die a horrible death.  That brings the survivors to their senses and they repent.  A truce is established between them and God: notice that God does not withdraw his heavy artillery (the snakes), but he does provide a way of neutralising their venom.  Read literally the story makes no sense: read spiritually it is a perfect story for Lent.

Taking It Personally.

  • Have there been times on your faith journey when it has all seemed too hard, and you have wanted to turn back?  Where was God for you at those times?
  • What form did the "poisonous snakes" take in your case?  Did you turn on God?  Did you seek help from your Minister or a friend?  Do you find you can talk to someone about difficulties in your faith journey?
  • What (if anything) in the Background section of these Notes 'pressed your buttons'?  How did you feel about the analogy between the snake-on-a-stick and a crucifix?  Is that a fair 'development' of the analogy used in the gospel passage?

 

Ephesians.  I am wondering about the relationship between this passage and the Numbers passage we have just been considering.  In the latter it appears that God's intervention – somewhat minimal and therefore perhaps grudging – came only after the people had admitted their guilt and asked for help.  In the case of the Ephesians the emphasis is surely on the complete, undeserved and even un-requested favour of God (grace, in other words).  Perhaps the difference (if there is one) is based on the fact that the Jews were already "converted", and their offence was therefore wilful disobedience, whereas the Ephesians were previously pagan and their offence was one of ignorance only.    Even so, when we compare the two passages, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that they show a very definite difference in the human understanding (or experience) of God.  Instead of a God who punishes and corrects, we now see a God who loves and heals.  Perhaps that is really the heart of St Paul's teaching – whatever verse 6 means.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • In what ways, and to what extent, is your lifestyle different because of your faith?
  • Are you aware of any ongoing changes in your lifestyle as your faith deepens?
  • Do you have any idea what verse 6 means – given that it is written by a living person to living people but is expressed in the past tense?  In what sense do you believe that you have already been raised up by God and seated with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus?

 

John 3:14-21.  Verse 16 must surely be one of the best known of all the verses of Scripture; and if you are a Sunday School survivor from way back it is almost certain that you were required to memorise it at some stage.  But do you recall ever having to pay particular attention to verse 17?  No, nor do I; but isn't verse 17 just as much wonderfully good news as verse 16?  And don't they together make exactly the point that (I think) St Paul was trying to make in this week's passage from Ephesians?  Likewise, verse 18 leads us from a concept of God's presiding in Court and punishing our wrongdoing, to one of God offering his life for us but leaving us free to accept or reject his offer.  "Judgment" becomes, not the powerful action of a wrathful God, but the inevitable consequence of our own choices.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • Try this as an alternative to verse 14: "Just as the willow trees absorbed all the poison of the land and died, so the Son of Man must take into himself all the sin of the world and die."  Then continue with verse 15.  Does that work for you?
  • Memorise verse 17 – and repeat it whenever you catch yourself about to make some judgmental comment on someone or something.
  • Spend time in prayer as you review the last week.  Are there any matters that you need to bring out of your inner darkness and look at them in the light of Christ.

 

*After I had written this part of the Notes Trish drew my attention to the very profound and helpful comments on this subject by Richard Rohr in chapter 9 of his "Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality".  I may return to this in next week's Notes.

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Third Sunday in Lent



March 8                      NOTES FOR REFLECTION             Third Sunday in Lent

Texts:  Exodus 20:1-17; 1 Corinthians 1:18-25; John 2:13-22

Theme:  There's something about the old and the new in our readings today.  Something like "Learning from the Past, Preparing for the Future" is buzzing around in my mind.  Or should it be something much shorter and simpler around that precious little word "holy"?  Perhaps "Remembering (or Recognising or Keeping) the Holy" would do it.  But then St Paul has something really important to say this week:  "Fools for Christ" comes to mind, or, much more provocative, what about "It's the Cross, Stupid!"?  Perhaps not – too Clintonesque for Lent, I think.

Introduction.  It's a while since I have heard the Ten Commandments in a Sunday service, even though the rubrics bravely suggest they might be used as an alternative to The Summary of the Law, on page 406 of the Prayer Book.  (Lent might be a good time to ponder why they seem to have gone out of fashion, even in the Church.)  Brave souls might want to preach on them this Sunday.  Even braver souls might want to preach on the second lesson, depending on the perceived intellectual make-up of the congregation, or their liking or otherwise for signs and wonders.  Those who are content to play a par round might follow our more usual custom and stick primarily to the gospel passage, being careful to assure the more delicate souls that no sheep or cattle were hurt during their sudden expulsion from the Temple Courts.  Put all these things together and we really do have another week for getting back to basics – as uncomfortable as that often is.

Background.  Bishop Kelvin recently asked a very interesting question in the context of his proposed pilgrimage (the Camino Santiago) later in the year as part of his Sabbatical.  His question is, what is a "holy place"; or, to put it another way, what makes a place "holy"?  I have been pondering this same question recently, for different but perhaps related reasons.  I haven't got very far yet, but I have started to scribble down a few words, phrases, and random thoughts that may or may not coalesce into something coherent in due time.

The monks' dictum – stay in your cell and it will teach you everything you need to know about being a monk.  Is it important where we ask the bishop's question?  Ask it in our study, and we might come up with a lot of clever thoughts about holy places – but suppose we simply went to a holy place and stayed there until the place answered the question.  Would that work?  The old saying about being unable to define art, but knowing it when we see it.  Perhaps we know a holy place only when we are in it, and even while we are in it we cannot explain why it is holy.  Does that get us somewhere?

Two obvious Scriptures:  Jacob at Bethel – Genesis 28:10-22; and Moses at the burning bush – Exodus 3:1-12.  Each was a holy place because God was present there – or, better, the presence of God there was fully experienced.  But was the place "holy" before the encounter, and did it remain holy ever thereafter?  Does holiness expire after a period?

Celtic notion of "thin places" may help.  These presumably are holy places.

 "A holy place is one where there is a surplus of love."  This random thought came to me fully formed.  As I pondered it, it seemed to be connected (no pun intended) with the idea of solar power – surplus offered back to the grid.  A holy place radiates love into the surrounding area.  I remember reading a comment made by the local commander of the police in Brighton, U.K.  Some years ago the Monastery of the Community of the Servants of the Will of God at Crawley set up a small community in a run-down area of Hove, with six monks who kept the Hours as if they were still in the monastery.  After two or three years of this the senior police officer told the Abbott that there had been "a perceptible change in the local atmosphere" – his officers had noticed far less aggro on the streets and the incidence of petty offending had dropped markedly.  That's what having a "holy place" in an area can do – even though we can't explain exactly how.

With this week's gospel passage before us it may be a good time to think about our local churches – are they holy places or do they need the sort of radical cleansing the Temple needed in Jesus' time?  I can honestly say that from the time I first walked into St Barnabas', Warrington I knew it was a holy place, and I'm never surprised when visitors tell me that they "sense" something about the place – how special it seems to them.  What makes it so?  Well, it's very beautiful, featuring a lot of polished timber, and, of course, its west wall is almost entirely taken up with the most stunning stained-glass windows.  But beauty is not enough to make a place holy.  One element that is of greater importance, surely, is its history.  Built in 1872 and consecrated the following year, worship has been offered to God there for 142 years and counting.  Holiness can be cumulative.

Recently, while pretending to help Trish with the cleaning, I found hidden away on a bottom shelf in the vestry an old, rather damp and damaged Bible.  When I opened it I found inscribed the words "Received and first used on 18th June 1876", and I'm pretty sure that was written by Rev Thomas Litchfield Stanley, whom we recognise as our first Vicar (he and his wife lie at rest in our graveyard).  It was a very moving experience to hold that HOLY Bible in my hands, knowing that our first Vicar, and, on occasion, no doubt, our first Bishop, Samuel Nevill, had held it in their hands all those years ago, and had preached the Word from it in this very place, this very holy place.

Bishop Nevill, his first wife and some of his wider family also lie at rest in the graveyard at St Barnabas, along with many, many others.  The presence of the faithful dead, too, contributes to the holiness of this place.  Often some of those who loved them and miss them to this day come on pilgrimages of their own, from far and near, and some pop in to the church for prayer or quiet reflection.

All this is part of why I have been saddened recently by what seems to be an upsurge in the number of our churches being closed, deconsecrated and offered for sale.  Lawrence (Tuapeka) was a place of worship (a holy place) even before Warrington; the church was closed in January.  This week the ODT reported that the churches of St Mary at Omakau  and St Michael and All Angels at Clyde are facing a similar fate. The Vicar is reported to have said that we must be "hugely pragmatic about it no matter how beautiful, ancient or loved the building", and that "The Church is not in the business of being a preservation society": all of which sounds reasonable enough until we remember that we are talking about "holy places".  Does pragmatism (however huge) justify turning holy places into "marketplaces"?  And if the Church is not in the business of preserving holy places, who is?  And here's another question: how can we continue to have pilgrimages to holy places when there are no holy places left?  With great respect, perhaps that's an even better question for Bishop Kelvin (and all of us) to ponder before it is too late.

Exodus 20:1-17:  There can be little doubt that Mount Sinai qualifies as a "holy place": according to Moses, God ordered them to "set limits around the mountain and keep it holy" [19:23].  It was on that holy place that God spoke the words we know as the Ten Commandments, the first four of which concern – are rooted in - the holiness of God.  Two of them strike me as particularly important today.  The Third, relating to the "wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God" is much wider that swearing or mindless exclamations.  It surely covers doing or saying something and claiming to be acting in God's name.  There is as much "false Christianity" as there is "false Islam" in the world, and there always has been, at least from the time of the Crusades.  Today blowing up abortion clinics to save innocent lives should never be associated with God's name.  The Fourth Commandment is even more apposite, requiring as it does that we keep the Sabbath day holy.  What better way to do that than spending at least part of it in a holy place?

Taking It Personally.

·        Once more we are reminded that the season of Lent is the ideal time for a personal spiritual stock-take.  Go slowly through the passage, taking careful note of your immediate reactions to each Commandment.  Is there one in particular that really bugs you?  Stay with that one and talk to God about it.

·        Reflect on verse 7.  Do you tend to use the word "God" otherwise than as a mode of address in prayer?  ["Oh, for God's sake!" or "OMG!"]

·        Read verses 8-11 through carefully.  We are reminded that God consecrated the Sabbath precisely because it was the day on which God rested.  Leisure (rest from labour) is holy!  Are you careful to ensure that you have one day a week when you do not work?  Do you try to ensure that you do not require others to work for you on that day?

 

1 Corinthians 1:18-31.  Can huge pragmatism stand in the light of this passage?  Is this passage not a perfect critique of those who believe that the Church is (or should be) in any business?  This week we have heard much about MPs' salaries, and whether or not many of them could earn anything like an equivalent salary outside of Parliament.  Perhaps we should ask the same question of our stipended clergy, except that we all know the answer to that one!  Of course, most if not all of them could earn substantially more in "the real world": in my own case, in 1990 I went from an annual salary of $83,000 to a part-stipend of $20,000.  Where was the human wisdom in that?  For the 'Greeks' around me at the time (including some within the faith community) the search for wisdom proved fruitless.  St Paul faced the same sort of questions, which is why he was able to write this passage before us this week.  Much of what God says and does, and calls us to be part of, is crazy in worldly terms, up to and including the Cross, of course.  Where is the sense in that?  Where is the sense in loving one's enemies, turning the other cheek, or forgiving those who wrong us?  Isn't it better to "get some guts and get on the right side"?  Isn't wisdom from Wellington or Washington more sensible than wisdom from God?

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Calm down, breathe deeply, and start forming your own answers, not to my deliberately provocative 'rewrite' of this passage, but to St Paul's equally provocative original version.

·        Notice especially verse 22.  St Paul equates the desire for "signs" (miracles) with the belief that God must act "rationally" in accordance with human logic.  Both are wrongheaded.  Which is the greater temptation for you?

 

John 2:13-22.  There's not much new I can say about the Cleansing of the Temple, at least in this gospel.  I'm not one of those who feel a need to rush to Jesus' defence.  He was angry – he had every right to be.  The difference is that he did something about it.  Perhaps that's the real challenge for us when we see something wrong in the Church.  Anger is not enough, and silent seething is medically harmful for the seether.  I'm delighted to find that the NRSV that I am using has Jesus accusing the authorities of making his Father's house into a "marketplace".  (Is that the same as a "den of thieves"?)  Perhaps the new term is wider to include boutique craft shops or cafes, if not pop-up lingerie shows.  Who knows what we could turn our holy places into if we really turned our minds to it, or, to be hugely pragmatic for a moment, simply put them up for tender?  That apparently is the best way to determine their true value.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

  • What lessons are there in this passage for the Church in general, and for your local faith community in principle?
  • Must the Church be pragmatic/businesslike, etc, or is part of its calling to proclaim and model other values?