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.

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 18^th 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?

 

 

Second Sunday in Lent

March 1                      NOTES FOR REFLECTION                         Second Sunday in Lent

Texts:  Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16; Romans 13-25; Mark 8:31-38*

[The Lectionary offers as an alternative gospel passage, Mark 9:2-9, relating to the Transfiguration, without suggesting any alternative Lessons to go with it.  There may be some advantages in having the Transfiguration a week after the Baptism, but I have never found them particularly convincing.  On the contrary, it seems to me that the "consequence" of Jesus' decision in the wilderness to resist the temptation of other ways is his suffering and death on the cross: hence it is more appropriate to have the reading concerning the first of his predictions of his Passion.]

Theme:  Something simple and straightforward, unadorned, seems more appropriate for the Season of Lent.  Perhaps "Trusting in God" is what it is all about this week (and every week?).  More theological, perhaps, could be "Life in Death", or "Life out of Death", but that may be getting ahead of ourselves.  "Taking God on Trust" has some rich possibilities.

Introduction.  We begin this week with one of the multiple "annunciations" to Abram (a.k.a. Abraham).  Read chapters 15-17 and count them for yourself.  Today's version reminds us that Sarah was not the only one who laughed hysterically at the very thought of having a child at their age.  So when Paul waxes lyrical in his letter to the Romans about Abram's unquestioning faith in God he is guilty of re-writing history just a tad.  But the point is clear enough.  The question is always about the authenticity of the revelation, not about whether something is or is not feasible.  If the message is from God we rely on it in faith, however crazy it might seem to our logical brain.  That is a lesson Peter had to learn the hard way in today's gospel passage.

Background.  Once again this week the ODT World Focus came up trumps with a reprint of an article from The Guardian headed "Get high and higher grades".  It taught me a wonderful new expression "cognitive enhancement" which is to intellectuals what "performance enhancement" is to participants in the Tour de France.  The article opens with the anguished cries of an Edinburgh student named Suzy, still three months away from her finals exams, already feeling the pressure.  "I feel like I wouldn't even have a chance if it wasn't for modafinil," she says.

For what?  "Modafinil: a prescription-only medication for narcolepsy that the NHS' website describes as a central nervous system stimulant [that prevents] excessive sleepiness during daytime hours".  It's apparently the "narcotic of choice" for this generation, according to the author of the article, and not just among tertiary students.  In the USA students in high school (no pun intended), where drugs of this kind are widespread, call them "study aids".  The article goes on to raise the many ethical issues surrounding the use of such drugs, and the near-impossibility of drawing reasonable boundaries.  In Duke University in North Carolina the student body lobbied the authorities to amend the academic honesty policy to make it clear that "using drugs to enhance academic performance constitutes cheating".  Which sounds all very right and proper, until the next question comes along: what about antidepressants, or medication for ADHD or anxiety?  And then there's caffeine and nicotine, both well-known "cognitive enhancers", apparently.  And what about sleeping pills, since a good night's sleep before an exam is also a great aid to cognitive performance in the exam? 

Of course, there are medical worries about side-effects, and little is known about the effect of long-term use of these drugs.  But the ethical issues arise because of the increasingly competitive nature of society.  That in itself deserves far more reflection and consideration than the drug-use itself, but is unlikely to get it.  Given the burden of student-debt, the increasing exploitation of unpaid internships, and the sheer difficulty of securing well-paid employment in their chosen fields of study, the author finds it understandable if today's students see nothing wrong in seeking out such "study aids":  "And in this scenario, if you were offered a small white pill that held the promise of enhanced productivity, greater focus, more hours in the library, and, ultimately, the potential of a better degree, well, it's not hard to see the attraction."

Ah, yes, the lure of the pill!  The simple fix to the complex problems of being human.  The dream of a Nobel Prize winner whose name now escapes me (the co-discoverer of the double-helix structure of the DNA molecule) was to create a pill that would enable us to eat as much as we wanted without getting fat!  So much easier than resisting the temptation to give full reign to our greed!  We live in a society that refuses to accept the limits of our physical nature, including those that are a natural part of the ageing process.  Here's another question from the article that all of us of a certain age might wish to ponder: "if you take one of these drugs, are you enhancing yourself?  Or restoring yourself to what you were?"  The implication seems to be that the latter is more acceptable than the former, but is it?

The whole article is well worth getting hold of and pondering at some depth; but for me the most interesting bit comes near the end.  Here is a quote from Anders Sandberg, a computational neuroscientist at The Future of Humanity Institute at Oxford University, who strongly believes that cognitive enhancement "is absolutely part of our future": "But we could be thinking about enhancements that make our lives happier and more fulfilled.  We asked people if they would take a supplement that enhanced their kindness and empathy and only 9% wanted that."

Today giving birth regardless of age is no longer a laughing matter: it's a scientific challenge, one it seems, that some are determined to meet (I think the present record is 62, isn't it?)  If only there was a pill that Jesus could have taken to avoid the cross, wouldn't that have been tempting?  Even Peter would have gladly swallowed that.  Who wouldn't?

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16.  As hinted above, I've never quite bought into the idea of Abraham as a paragon of unquestioning faith.  What I call "Abraham's Annunciation Saga" goes on through 4 chapters, and includes, let me remind you, his own plan B, which resulted in the birth of Ishmael (chapter 16), and took place after God's first promise to Abraham (chapter 15).  Then months and quite possibly years later God again promises Abraham an heir, spelling out that it will be Sarah who bears him, prompting, not thanksgiving and praise, nor Mary-like submission to the will of God, but outright disbelief accompanied by hysterical laughter.  So, with all due respect to St Paul, Abraham's faith went through a long and difficult gestation period.  But here, surely, is its true value for us.  Such faith does not come easily to us either – it usually requires years of struggle, often because we struggle with the wrong question.  The real and only question should be: is this truly the voice of God?  But so often we take the same route that Abraham takes in this passage: how can this be?  In his case (and even, with deep respect, Mary's case) the obstetrical difficulties distract him.  He does not doubt that God is speaking to him, but he doubts that what God is saying is feasible. 

Taking It Personally.

• Take time this week to go slowly through the whole of Abraham's Annunciation Saga (chapters 15-18), looking at it as a prolonged struggle of faith.  Are there any parallels, do you think, between this story and the story of the Temptation of Jesus in the wilderness?
• In broader terms, what does this saga tell us about the faith journey?  How might the birth of Ishmael represent our human tendency to seek apparently easier, but false, paths to spiritual growth?
• Looking back over your own faith journey so far, what parallels do you see between Abraham's experiences and responses and your own?

 

Romans 4:13-25.  This is a wonderful (if rather difficult) example of a biblical reflection carried out by a master teacher.  (The author of the Fourth Gospel is also very good at this.)  The issue for Paul is clear: how can we be weaned off the idea of earning God's love through obedience to his Law, thereby understanding that our relationship with God is about grace on his part and faith on our part?  Who better to call in aid than Father Abraham himself!  One of his great virtues is that he "pre-dated" the giving of the Law to Moses.  So whatever difficulties we may have in seeing Abraham as a model of immediate and faithful response, we can at least rely on the fact that his virtue owed nothing to lawful obedience.  He (and Sarah) came eventually to believe in the promises of God through faith.  Moreover, those promises extended way beyond the birth of a son and heir – they extended to many generations of descendants and could never have been entirely fulfilled in Abraham's lifetime.  Yet, says St Paul, he believed: and it's worth us pausing to remember that St Paul is writing this when the "children of Abraham" were still very small in number, certainly not "countless as heaven's stars".

 

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Read slowly though this passage in the light of the Genesis story.  Notice how St Paul is reshaping that story to suit his theological purposes.  Does that bother you?  Or is it more important to "get" the truth that St Paul is drawing from it?
• Is "hoping against hope" the same as "believing against belief"?  Is that what we are being asked to do in stories of this kind (and "miracle stories" in general)?
• Reflect deeply on verses 24 and 25, the conclusion of St Paul's argument.  What does it mean to you?

 

Mark 8:31-38.  It's a pity the Lectionary begins at verse 31, when the passage only makes sense if we start at verse 27.  It is in response to Peter's proclamation of faith in Jesus as Messiah that today's action takes place.  It is also through Peter that we see the struggles of faith so well illustrated: having asserted his faith in Jesus as the Messiah, he then proceeds to argue with him – contradict him – as if he is just another wrong-headed mate!  The one through whom the Spirit has just spoken now becomes the mouthpiece of the devil.  Notice that Jesus does not explain why he must undergo great suffering, be rejected by the religious elite, and be killed, nor what he means by rising again three days later.  He simply states what is going to happen to him.  And then he spells out the consequences of all this for those who would like to become his followers.  The passage is about the way things are, not the reasons why they are that way.  It is about his acceptance of what must be; and the question for each of us is whether or not we are prepared to accept the consequences of becoming one of his followers.  It is a stark yes-or-no choice.  We are not invited to negotiate terms of enlistment.  For this reason this passage could be said to be the very heart of the gospel – the most important part of it.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        A great passage for praying with your imagination.  Put yourself in the story near Jesus.  Hear Peter assert that Jesus is the Messiah.  What tone of voice does he use?  How do you react to those words?  How do you feel about Peter at that moment?

·        Now listen to Jesus as he announces what is to happen to him.  What is your immediate reaction?  Shock? Horror?  Fear?  When Peter protests do you join in, or at least nod vigorously?

·        How do you react when Jesus rebukes Peter?

·        Now listen to Jesus as he addresses his would-be followers.  How do you feel at this point?

·        Are you one of his followers today?

First Sunday in Lent

February 22                NOTES FOR REFLECTION             First Sunday in Lent

Texts: Genesis 9:8-17; 1 Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-15

Theme:  The most obvious choice would be "The Temptation of Christ", but in my view we should resist it.  It's too easy.  "Facing Temptation" or "Resisting Temptation" would be better.  For reasons that will become clear shortly, I'm going for "The Temptation of the Body of Christ".

Introduction.  If there is a common thread running through these three readings this week it is surely about the essential foundation upon which confession stands.  We do not come before God in fear and trepidation "hoping against hope" for a fair outcome – much less, a lucky break.  To pinch a phrase from our funeral liturgy, in confession we come before God "in the sure and certain hope" of forgiveness.  Our reading from Genesis, therefore, is very much post-Flood: punishment is in the past, and now we have the gracious promise of God our Creator to the whole of Creation that never again will God give up on us.  The baffling verses from Peter extend God's forgiveness in Christ backwards in time, so to speak.  Even those who died in their sins are not beyond the saving reach of Christ.  And we finish with some helpful swot-notes from Mark: forget the details, he seems to say, and just grasp the basic facts that Jesus was baptised, tempted to deviate from his mission, but did not do so.

Background.  Most of us, if we think about Lent at all, think of it as a time for personal (individual) stock-taking, reflection, remorse, confession (in the strictly private Anglican sort of way), and perhaps a vow, or at least a desire, to do better in the future.  We also have some sort of "race memory" that we ought to "give something up for Lent" – something like cake, chocolates, or alcohol – but to what end is not always entirely clear.  One of my favourite priests, who had a well-earned reputation for enjoying such delicacies, once told his congregation that he had no intention of giving up any of them for Lent, but he was intending to give up gossiping, grumbling and criticising during the Lenten Season, and invited them to do the same.  They assumed he was joking and laughed.

Over the years I have tried to teach the idea that in corporate worship we confess our sins as one body, not as individuals.  In large part our three Eucharistic liturgies support me in that.  In the first one, we "call to mind our sins", and we confess that "we have sinned in what we have thought and said..."  In the second one, there is an unfortunate lapse into individualism – "I will confess my sins to the Lord, I will not conceal my wrongdoing" – but the rest of that section returns to corporate confession thereafter.  The third liturgy makes the point most explicitly: "We come seeking forgiveness for all we have failed to be and do as members of Christ's body."  There in a nutshell is my case, and now in support I call my first witness.

He is known to us as Pope Francis.  Just before Christmas I saw on the TV News a short item about the Pope's address to the pre-Christmas gathering of the Curia in the Vatican.  Not for him a few polite words thanking them for all their hard work and bidding them safe travel and a good break over the holidays.  Pope Francis took the opportunity to share his thoughts about the "spiritual diseases" that all-too often afflicted the Curia.  The full text of his extraordinary address was published on line by The Tablet on 30/12/2014; and if you are looking for something to use as a Lenten resource this year, I recommend this.  I can't do it justice in these Notes, but here are some points that struck me.

He began with Paul's image of the Church as one Body, and he applied it to the Curia.  The Curia is a complex body comprising many congregations, councils, offices, tribunals, commissions, and so on, made up of people from diverse cultural, national and linguistic backgrounds; and yet it is called to be one body within the Body of Christ, and must act as one body.  It can only do this, he said, if every member understands that without Christ we can do nothing, and that means that each member requires daily nourishment from a diet of prayer, scripture, and reflection, and the "assiduous receipt of the sacraments".  Without such practice a member will become a mere "bureaucrat, a formalist, a functionalist, a mere employee".

And that was just to warm up!  He then proceeded to list what he called 15 "curial diseases" (spiritual diseases that can afflict any body of Christians), and he certainly didn't pull his punches.  Included on the list were what he called the "pathology of power", manifesting in a sense of superiority, power games, and even "rivalry and vainglory".  Others he called "Spiritual Alzheimer's" (forgetting what God has done for us), and "Existential Schizophrenia" (basically, hypocrisy).  Two that particularly struck me were not, perhaps, quite so dramatic, but certainly familiar within my experience.  The first he called "the Martha complex", throwing ourselves into work and more work, and forgetting the "one thing that matters".  How often have we been too busy to go on retreat, keep a scheduled appointment with our spiritual director, or even have our daily prayer time?

The other is "excessive planning".  How many times at parish or diocesan level have we thought that one more plan, one more seminar or conference, one more study, one more flow-chart or pie-chart will help us up the 5-step, 10-step, or 12-step ladder that leads to a "successful" church!  Prayer, waiting on the Spirit, retreats – who has got time for all that stuff?

So perhaps this Season of Lent, in addition to our own spiritual stock-take, we should encourage one another to look at our own faith community, and our own diocese and our own wider church.  We, too, may need to remember that we are a complex body, comprising congregations, social agencies, schools, colleges, offices, and a whole lot more.  Are we afflicted by our equivalent of curial diseases?  Are our social agencies so busy helping "their clients" and pursuing Government contracts that they have forgotten their need for daily nourishment?  Are our schools so committed to teaching their pupils "useful" subjects" that they are neglecting their special character as cells in the Body of Christ?  And are our local faith communities really distinguishable from other clubs and social gatherings of kindly people?

This Lenten Season may we all daily "come seeking forgiveness for all we have failed to be and do as members of Christ's body".

Genesis 9:8-17.  It is fashionable, particularly among many "Greenies", to accuse the Church of propagating a message of exploitation of natural resources, often quoting Genesis 1:28 in support of their criticism.  Today's passage is generally overlooked by such critics, yet here we have the clearest possible statement that God's covenantal commitment is to the whole of creation, and not just to humanity.  (Pedants might want to suggest that the covenant is limited to the animal kingdom, and that plants are not mentioned, but pedants should chill out and enjoy rainbows more.)  More importantly, as people of faith should we not, whenever a rainbow appears, see it as a reminder of God's mercy to all of us?  And, like the author of our next reading, see it as a reminder of our baptism?

Taking It Personally.

·        Call to mind the victims of the terrible tsunamis of recent years, and pray for those who are still trying to rebuild their lives after such devastation.

·        Pray for those, especially in the South Pacific, whose lives are threatened by rising sea-levels.  What can we do to help?

·        Where was God in those tsunamis?  Where is God in the rising sea levels?  What is the purpose of praying about these disasters, past and pending?

·        Reflect on the whole Noah story.  What is it really about?  What does it mean to you?

 

1 Peter 3:18-22.  I have never met anyone who claims this passage as his or her favourite passage of Scripture: in fact, I'm not sure that I have ever met anyone who claims to understand it.  But as I have pondered it today I keep getting in my mind the wonderful icon of the Resurrection showing Christ bursting out of Hades pulling Adam and Eve out with him.  And if those two can be saved by the resurrection of Christ there is surely hope for those who laughed at Noah until it was too late!  But whatever we are to make of verses 19 and 20, the message of the other verses in this little passage are wonderfully clear and encouraging.  Through baptism we become "people of the ark" saved from death; we become like those brought out of slavery through the Red Sea; we become the people of God through the saving action of God.  Let us remember all this every time we see a rainbow, and give thanks!

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Give thanks for your baptism.

·        Reflect on verse 21.  Write out your own version of it.  Bring out in your own words what it means for you.  What difference has your baptism made to your life?

·        What would you say to someone who is worried about a friend or family member who has died unbaptised, or as an avowed atheist? Would verses 19 and 20 help?

 

Mark 1:9-15.  In just 6 verses St Mark covers three major events.  He begins with his account of Jesus' baptism.  Verse 10 is subjective: Jesus "saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him".  There is no suggestion anybody else present saw it.  Verse 11 is, by implication, also subjective: the voice addresses Jesus alone.  The second episode, the temptation in the desert, is even more terse.  It is recorded as an objective account: but who, other than Jesus himself, could have been the source for this story?  Thirdly, we have the launch of Jesus' public mission.  Notice that there is no indication of the time lapse between the second and third episodes.  I am also struck by the use of the word "came" in both verse 9 and verse 14.  Where was "Mark" in each instance?  Change the word "came" to "went" in each case and you'll see what I'm driving at.  If Mark was a resident of Galilee, then, from his point of view, Jesus "went" to the Jordan to be baptised; if he was not a resident of Galilee, then Jesus "went" to Galilee proclaiming the message.  The use in both cases of "came" is perhaps theologically rather than geographically correct: it stresses that wherever we are we experience Jesus coming to us rather than going from us.  The language of verse 12 is particularly strong, echoing the language of exorcism.  Jesus does not seem to have any choice in the matter.  The "wild animals" could be literal, or symbolic of Jesus' human instincts and emotions.  The whole thrust of verses 14 and 15 is to show continuity between John and Jesus.

Taking It Personally.

• Go through each episode separately and slowly, beginning with the first.  Try to visualise it.  What impression of the Holy Spirit is conveyed by the image of the dove descending on him?  Have you ever experienced the gentle presence of the Holy Spirit resting on you?  What might that voice sound like?  How would you describe it?  Have you heard a voice from heaven speaking to you?
• When you're ready, move to the second episode.  Now what impression of the Holy Spirit are you left with?  Is the Spirit within or outside Jesus?  Have you ever felt "driven" by the Holy Spirit to go somewhere or to do something?
• When are you most aware of being tempted to do something, saying something, or think something ungodly?  Do you more readily associate temptation with doing something you shouldn't, or with not doing something you should?
• The "Good News" has been proclaimed in this country since 1814.  What exactly is the "Good News", and when did you last proclaim it to anyone?  When will you next do so?

NOTES FOR REFLECTION

February 15                            NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts: 2 Kings 5:1-14; 1 Corinthians 9:24-27; Mark 1:40-45

Theme:  In the last week before Lent, something to do with “cleansing” seems to be called for.  Perhaps “Outer and Inner Cleansing” might do.  Alternatively, the two main readings might invite us to reflect on our willingness or otherwise to seek and accept help; perhaps “Recognising our Need for Help”.  More generally, I am leaning towards “The Wisdom of Humility”.

Introduction.  Two great stories with another awkward interlude with St Paul this week.  Whoever wrote up the story of the great military leader, Naaman, struck down with leprosy and the ensuing farce of his attempts to find a cure deserves to win the St Luke Award for Storytelling.  I never tire of reading it, and it still makes me laugh.  I don’t feel the same about this passage from St Paul.  In this week of the Halberg Awards his analogy drawn from the world of athletics shows again his great gift for timing, but his treatment of his own body perhaps explains why he was never likely to win a perishable wreath.  The gospel reading comes with a sting in the tale (pun alert!): the leper receives his healing but is unwilling or unable to comply with the healer’s instructions.

Background.  “Portentous” is not a word I use often (in fact, I can’t now recall ever having used it before) – apart from anything else it’s hard to spell and even harder to pronounce.  But it might just be the right word to describe a week that began with Tony Abbot’s self-described near-death experience, continued with the teaching of theology briefly hitting the news headlines in the company of, um, hairdressing, and moved on to a multi-media spectacle of a meteor flashing across the sky and self-destructing with a loud sonic boom off-stage east.  And we’re supposed to believe that there is no cosmic significance in all this?  With all due respect to Murray, Bond, McCallum & Ko, who is going to remember their awards in a week of such earthly and heavenly events?

But wait, there’s more!  The British Establishment is apparently so rife with paedophiles that they have had to ask New Zealand to send over one of our judges to head an inquiry; in France the former head of the IMF has described himself as a “Libertine”, but insisted that he had only participated in organised sex orgies about four times a year, and he had no idea that the young women who apparently joined him in his romps were actually paid to do so (who would ever have suspected that?).  Meanwhile, the latest breach of privacy has revealed that very rich people (some of them even Aussies!) have been salting away money in foreign bank accounts to avoid paying taxes in the countries of their domicile; and on the home front the collection tins are out for Sky City to meet its “unexpected shortfall” in its budget for the convention centre (who would ever have expected that?)  Perhaps they should apply for Lotteries Commission funding?  (They’re too late for the Pub Charities loot – that’s already been cleared out, apparently.)

So, yes, the need for cleansing is widespread – social and personal leprosy takes many forms.  St Paul says “athletes exercise self-control in all things”, but he was writing long before the invention of performance-enhancing drugs, match-fixing, and over-exuberant after-match celebrations.

I’m not sure why, in such a news-crowded week, my mind keeps coming back to the decision of the Tertiary Education Commission to reduce funding to private institutions offering tuition in theology and/or hairdressing.  Part of its appeal, I must confess, is to my sense of humour.  For some reason it sounds funny, don’t you think?  It sounded particularly funny when I first heard about it on the radio because the newsreader referred to “courses in theology and hairdressing”, and for a moment I thought...  Well, it’s possible – I know of a Dunedin dentist who also has a degree in theology – although probably after undertaking separate courses.  And I have a personal interest in all this: I have a degree in theology, and, despite appearances to the contrary, I do have my hair cut reasonably regularly (though “dressed” is not a word I would use in that context – I go to a “barber”, not a “hairdresser”!)

The Commission explained that we have an “over-supply” of people with skills in theology and hairdressing and so reduced the numbers of student places it would fund by 107 (theology) and 124 (hairdressing), with a predicted saving of $1.8 million dollars which could be applied towards other courses (such as croupiers?) It’s a brave move: there may not be much likelihood of marches in the street demanding more theology students; but who among us has not smarted at being kept waiting at the hairdresser/barber?  How can this be if we have an oversupply of hairdressers/barbers?  Is it really a coincidence that the Minister of Tertiary Education is bald?

Of course, there is another side to this argument.  The hairdressing industry, in large part, is a vanity industry.  As long as our hair is clean, and of a length that does not impede our sight or hearing, it doesn’t NEED to be artificially coloured, set, permed, blow-waved, or whatever, does it?  We could, if we wanted to, choose to send more money to the Leprosy Mission than we spend each year on our own crowning glory – health, like beauty is more than skin-deep.  And if that’s too much to expect, what about just during Lent?

The argument about theology is much more intriguing.  I remember in one of Thomas Merton’s books his answer to a question he was asked once by an interviewer along the following lines: “But what use are monks?”  His reply was equally clear: “None at all.  We monks are completely useless.”  I can still remember how shocked I was on reading that little exchange – and I tended to dismiss it.  I have always been ambivalent about the “cult” of Thomas Merton – I struggle with the concept of a Trappist monk being so well-known.  But the more I have reflected on his remarks to this woman, the more I think my original judgment that he was just being smart was wrong.  He was speaking in and to a society that thinks only in terms of dollar values, productivity, inputs and outputs, and so on.  In those terms, monks have no value, perhaps – except those who produce and sell high-quality wines.  Perhaps Merton’s answer was really a refusal to accept her criteria of usefulness.

And that’s the issue here, I think.  What possible use are theology students if they cannot contribute to the economic wellbeing of New Zealand, or even find a job that will provide them with enough income to support themselves and their families?    Isn’t that the real meaning of life?  We don’t need theology to reveal that truth to us.

2 Kings 5:1-14.  Just the first verse shows the narrative genius of the author of this book.  The portrait of a great military leader is immediately before us with such clarity that we might not notice the first of three jarring notes.  First, this is not the commander of Israel’s army: he commands the army of Aram (Syria) who is an enemy of Israel.  Secondly, his great victory is not due to his military gifts, but to the Lord’s gift to him.  Think about that for a moment.  Then, thirdly, we discover that this great man has the dreaded leprosy.  Verse 2 confirms this strange scenario.  The Arameans have attacked Israel, and carried off at least one young girl, who is now Mrs Naaman’s maidservant (or slave, to be more precise).  Yet, this enslaved nobody is the one who can point the way to a cure for Namaan’s disease.  So desperate is he for a cure that he embarks on the journey to his enemies’ land, on the advice of a slave-girl.  He naturally assumes the medical bill will be astronomical and goes well-loaded.  The interlude with the king of Israel having a fit is quite wonderful with his protestation “Am I God?” (Echoes of Pontius Pilate – “Am I a Jew?”)  The farce continues with Elisha sending out a messenger: when we go to the Medical Centre we don’t expect to be treated by the receptionist!  The “green prescription” seems designed only to humiliate, and again the critical role of persuading Naaman to submit is given to his servants.  Only when his submission is complete (signified by the seven-fold dunking) is he cured of his “leprosy” in all its manifestations, spiritual as well as physical.

Taking It Personally.

·       Take your time with this story.  Journey through it with Naaman.  How might he have reacted when he first saw signs of leprosy on his skin?  Fear?  Denial?  Have you had a similar experience?

·       How might he have reacted when he discovered that his wife’s slave-girl knew of his condition – presumably his wife had spoken to her about it? How concerned are you to keep your own medical issues private?

·       What might he have felt about the suggestion that he should return to Israel, this time as a supplicant seeking medical help?  What steps might he have taken to hide his true identity?  Have you ever been concerned that you might be “recognised” going to a medical centre?

·       He was obviously outraged when Elisha gave him the cold-shoulder.  Have you ever felt that you were being “dismissed” in this way?

·       How do you think Naaman was changed as a result of this whole experience?    How might it have changed his attitude towards Israel?  Could this case be used as an example of the value of cross-cultural experiences in breaking down international hostility?

1 Corinthians 9:24-27.  In the land where the Olympic Games were born it is no surprise to find that St Paul should make himself like an Olympian to win Olympians; but perhaps this is one of those cases where he allowed himself to be sucked into difficulties by pushing an analogy too far.  The basic idea, that spiritual growth, like athletic prowess, requires regular training, commitment, and energy is clear enough.  But are we in competition with one another, like runners in a race?  Surely not – everyone who enters genuinely into the Christian race wins the prize.  Certainly we need to keep focused on that prize, rather than running aimlessly or beating the air.  But verse 27 goes too far – there is surely a difference between training the body to perform better, and punishing it, or even enslaving it.

Taking It Personally.

·       How does your spiritual fitness programme compare with your physical fitness one?

·       Would Lent provide a good opportunity to deepen your commitment to spiritual practice?  What might you feel able to commit yourself to for the next 6 weeks or so?

·       What help or guidance might be available to you through your local faith community in this regard?  Could you suggest the establishment of a “spiritual fitness group” within your fellowship?

Mark 1:40-45.  A very short simplified version of the Naaman story here.  The leper takes an enormous risk: if he has “read” Jesus wrong he could find himself beaten or killed for approaching a man like this while “unclean” from leprosy.  Unlike Naaman, he is a nobody, with no letter of introduction to provide any promise of safe passage.  But he is also free of Naaman’s hubris: he kneels before Jesus and asserts that Jesus can heal him if he chooses to do so.  Jesus is touched by this man’s approach, and chooses to touch him, healing him as he does so.  He asks (demands) only that the man will not rush straight to social media, but to no avail.  The result is that Jesus is now the one excluded from the town: he has, as it were, swapped places with the leper.

Taking It Personally.

·       How easy do you find it to ask for help?

·       How easy do you find it to keep confidences?

·       Are there any “lepers” in your faith community – those whom you try to avoid socially?  How well or otherwise does your faith community welcome those who are “challenged” in some way?

·       Do you or your faith community support the Leprosy Mission or other organisations seeking to cure leprosy and support those who suffer from it?