Year B Lent 2—Sermon—Armidale Uniting Church
The cross was an instrument of torture, humiliation and death. The Romans used it to ensure the most painful, shameful death for criminals and dissidents. Not only was it shameful and painful for those put to death on it; but also for their families and their communities. Often retribution upon families and communities would accompany the public execution of crucifixion victims. Crosses were designed to make sure that the many peoples whom the Romans had conquered were well aware of the consequences of crimes against the might of Rome. So painful and shameful was the cross as instrument of oppression that it was not until the late second century that it became widespread as the symbol for Christianity. Carrying a cross was about being lead out in humiliation in order to die; and about the accompanying humiliation and hurt meted out to families and communities. And yet here in the Gospel of Mark, we have Jesus enjoining his disciples to “take up their crosses” in order to follow in the way of Christ.
Now around about this time, you may just be thinking: “Oh no, not another sermon about taking up our crosses. I have enough in my life to contend with. I don’t need reminding that living is painful. And I certainly don’t need to be told that following Jesus is about thinking I’m a worm and that whatever my self is is useless. I’ve had enough of that from being alive.” And you’re right! That simple little clause that we take so much for granted in Christianity comes with huge baggage. “Take up your cross” has been used to exhort people into crusades against those of other faiths. It has been used to humiliate and deny the valid contributions of members of the body of Christ. It has been used to justify all kinds of suffering and to ignore the real problems of social and political oppression. “Take up your cross!”
The Gospel of Mark is, of course, quite concerned with oppression: political oppression by the Romans; physical and spiritual oppression by disease and demons; religious oppression by overly zealous religious leaders. Indeed, there are so many, many stories in Mark about people being released from oppression that this theme of willing suffering is hard to believe when we first come up against it. If Jesus comes to free us, then what is all this talk of suffering about? And anyway, it doesn’t exactly sound like “good news”, does it? So we have to be careful when we’re reading this familiar passage. It would be easy to overlook its real significance, or to write it off because the dubious interpretations of it we have received in the past.
So let’s get some of those dubious interpretations out of the way. This passage is not about justifying victims being on the receiving end of violence. It is not about telling abused people to stay in situations of abuse. It is not about self-mortification for its own sake. It’s not about wearing hair shirts and whipping yourself with thorns to show how repentant you are. It’s not all about sublimating who you are for the sake of some impossible, ethereal, religious ideal of perfection. It’s not about ignoring oppression and victimisation because “we all have our cross to bear”. And it’s not about using the Gospel to victimise, oppress and abuse just as some these interpretations have victimised, oppressed and abused already victimised, oppressed and abused people.
Rather this passage is about the consequences of living a Christian Life, the consequences of following the way of Christ and of seeking to put into practice Gospel values and Gospel actions. And such consequences come about not because we submit to or ignore oppression, but because we challenge it.
The Romans did not crucify people who meekly submitted to being slaves, to having their communities overrun; and who offered no resistance. It was precisely those who challenged the might of the Romans who ended up on crosses. It was those who challenged their claims to property and persons; to sovereignty and to religious and spiritual supremacy who found themselves carrying their cross. Jesus is not saying, “Be meek and mild.” He’s saying, “Remember when you get so excited about all this stuff that it will have consequences. Be sure that you want to bear them. And don’t give me a fairytale view of where I’m going either. I know what’s ahead and I know it’s going to be nasty. So if you really believe this stuff about a loving God who cares for the least, then recognise that you’re not going to be the most popular person in the community, because you’ll be challenging the status quo and upsetting the equilibrium. And no-one likes that.”
The upside is, of course, that this stuff about a loving God who cares for the oppressed is exciting stuff. It gives you a reason to live and believe, to act and to speak. It gives you a life which kowtowing to false powers does not. “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”
So, be realistic. Face what being Christian means head on and decide. Decide to side with a loving God who cares for victims or to collaborate in your own victimisation by pretending that everything’s okay. Decide to be excited about working against injustice or to live in resignation in a very imperfect world. Decide to speak and act in love and faith; or to act and speak in submission to other powers that will not set you free. But when you decide, know this—it is not the easy road that you choose when you choose freedom in God. It is a road that has consequences. Others won’t understand; won’t want to join you; may even work against you. You too may know humiliation because you proclaim God’s freedom, God’s justice, God’s love.
Know this too—that this life with consequences is so much more exciting, fulfilling, challenging than any easy road. This life with consequences is life in God. For what does it profit anyone to live an easy life without the consequences in contrast to a life that continually seeks the things of God and works to bring about God’s realm? If you do want to follow Christ, don’t try to save yourself (that’s done), rather enter into the freedom that Christ brings and enjoy proclaiming God’s will for the world in everything you say and do—even when there are consequences, consequences like the humiliation of a cross.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Prelude to Declaration of Forgiveness for Lent 2 - Year B
Let no distrust make you waver concerning the promises of God.
Grow strong in faith even as you give God glory.
Be fully convinced that God is able to do what has been promised.
(Cf Rom. 4:20-21)
Grow strong in faith even as you give God glory.
Be fully convinced that God is able to do what has been promised.
(Cf Rom. 4:20-21)
Call to Worship for Lent 2 - Year B
We will tell of your name, O God.
In the midst of the congregation, we will praise you!
Praise God, all who stand in awe of God’s grace.
We honour and glorify God’s name.
For God does not hide or recoil from those who suffer.
When we call, God answers.
The poor shall eat and be satisfied.
Those who seek God will live in God forever.
(Cf Ps 22:22-24)
In the midst of the congregation, we will praise you!
Praise God, all who stand in awe of God’s grace.
We honour and glorify God’s name.
For God does not hide or recoil from those who suffer.
When we call, God answers.
The poor shall eat and be satisfied.
Those who seek God will live in God forever.
(Cf Ps 22:22-24)
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Enfolded into God
A Reflection for a Funeral
Perhaps facing death is the most difficult thing that we do as humans. Death reminds us of our mortality; of the frailty and fragility of our existence; of the transient nature of God’s created order.
Even when we can celebrate the well-lived life of a close friend or a dear relative, we are confronted with the impermanence of that person and of ourselves. “Remember we are dust and to dust we shall return.”
Surely, then we are tempted to cry out and ask, “Why?” Why is it that we are born, we live, we endure joy and pain, we die? Why is it that God created such a world of fluctuation and impermanence?
Perhaps we may be angry at a God who could concoct such a cruel equation of life and death. “How could you do this to us God?” “We loved her. How could you take her from us?”
Certainly, it takes a little time to settle in. We may lift the phone to ring or find that we are still including the deceased in our routine plans for today. We can’t initially believe that someone whom we knew, whom we loved, whom we cared for is just no longer with us in the same way.
The Christian tradition does not offer easy answers to our predicament. It is not content with platitudes about everything being in God’s plan, about God’s appointed time, or even about lives well-lived.
The Christian tradition reminds us that God created us to be in relationship with God and with one another; and that God’s creation is both good and demanding. Relationships are demanding. Living is demanding. Change is demanding. Death is demanding. Life is demanding. For our world is a dynamic world, it revolves around our interactions with one another, with our environment and with God. A dynamic, relational world is a demanding one.
But the Christian tradition also does not leave us in our shock, in our pain, in our grief, in our disbelief, in our anger, in our questioning, in our confusion on our own. It says that because our world is a dynamic and relational one, it is in and through our relationships that we endure and survive and indeed may live well our transitory lives.
So we gather today to share with one another our grief, our pain, our joy, our celebration, our hope, our confusion. So we gather today to pour it all out together to God. Because the Christian tradition, says that God knows it all, God hears it all, God experiences it all, God understands it all and God stands in utter solidarity with us as we experience so much in life and in death. God waits and watches as a loving parent waits and watches the throes of adolescence and the discoveries of each new stage of life. And always God is ready to embrace us, God’s children, whatever state we are in.
The Christian tradition also offers the hope that nothing and no-one is lost in God. That death is an end and a beginning. And that all things are finally caught up into God’s reign in a way that is beyond our understanding, but not outside our imagination.
So then, today we have come to grieve and to celebrate, to cry and to sing, to rail against God and to praise God for a life well-lived, a life taken away and a life that is now enfolded into the very life of God.
Perhaps facing death is the most difficult thing that we do as humans. Death reminds us of our mortality; of the frailty and fragility of our existence; of the transient nature of God’s created order.
Even when we can celebrate the well-lived life of a close friend or a dear relative, we are confronted with the impermanence of that person and of ourselves. “Remember we are dust and to dust we shall return.”
Surely, then we are tempted to cry out and ask, “Why?” Why is it that we are born, we live, we endure joy and pain, we die? Why is it that God created such a world of fluctuation and impermanence?
Perhaps we may be angry at a God who could concoct such a cruel equation of life and death. “How could you do this to us God?” “We loved her. How could you take her from us?”
Certainly, it takes a little time to settle in. We may lift the phone to ring or find that we are still including the deceased in our routine plans for today. We can’t initially believe that someone whom we knew, whom we loved, whom we cared for is just no longer with us in the same way.
The Christian tradition does not offer easy answers to our predicament. It is not content with platitudes about everything being in God’s plan, about God’s appointed time, or even about lives well-lived.
The Christian tradition reminds us that God created us to be in relationship with God and with one another; and that God’s creation is both good and demanding. Relationships are demanding. Living is demanding. Change is demanding. Death is demanding. Life is demanding. For our world is a dynamic world, it revolves around our interactions with one another, with our environment and with God. A dynamic, relational world is a demanding one.
But the Christian tradition also does not leave us in our shock, in our pain, in our grief, in our disbelief, in our anger, in our questioning, in our confusion on our own. It says that because our world is a dynamic and relational one, it is in and through our relationships that we endure and survive and indeed may live well our transitory lives.
So we gather today to share with one another our grief, our pain, our joy, our celebration, our hope, our confusion. So we gather today to pour it all out together to God. Because the Christian tradition, says that God knows it all, God hears it all, God experiences it all, God understands it all and God stands in utter solidarity with us as we experience so much in life and in death. God waits and watches as a loving parent waits and watches the throes of adolescence and the discoveries of each new stage of life. And always God is ready to embrace us, God’s children, whatever state we are in.
The Christian tradition also offers the hope that nothing and no-one is lost in God. That death is an end and a beginning. And that all things are finally caught up into God’s reign in a way that is beyond our understanding, but not outside our imagination.
So then, today we have come to grieve and to celebrate, to cry and to sing, to rail against God and to praise God for a life well-lived, a life taken away and a life that is now enfolded into the very life of God.
Covenant of Love
Year B Lent 1—Sermon—Armidale Uniting Church
A reading of the poem "An Absolutely Ordinary Rainbow" by Les Murray began this sermon: http://www.lesmurray.org/pm_aor.htm
An absolutely ordinary rainbow. An absolutely, ordinary rainbow. An absolutely, ordinary rainbow! This is the sign of God’s covenant with God’s people: a rainbow hung like a warrior’s bow upon the tent wall—a bow put up for peace—“ain’t gonna worry about war no more”. An absolutely ordinary rainbow.
An absolutely ordinary rainbow made from sunlight shining through the prisms of moisture in the atmosphere: a meteorologist could give us a long treatise on its scientific explanation. But it’s still an absolutely ordinary rainbow. And nevertheless, a sign: a sign of God’s covenant, at least according to Genesis—a sign of God’s covenant “never again” to “cut off” “all flesh” “by the waters of a flood”; “never again” “to destroy the earth” “by flood”. And it’s a special kind of covenant—an unconditional one. There’s nothing that humanity has to do. God will simply fulfil the promise. An absolutely ordinary rainbow. An absolutely extraordinary, unconditional promise.
So, according to the story of Noah and Shem and Ham and Japheth and their unnamed wives and that impossible menagerie of pairs or was it sevens of every kind of animal in all the earth (there are 2 different takes on the plot), according to this story, God offers an unconditional promise, an unconditional promise of peace (“there ain’t gonna be war no more”) between God and humanity. An absolutely ordinary rainbow. An absolutely extraordinary, unconditional promise. A covenant between God and humanity made unconditionally by God.
Surely, that is enough to make one weep: unconditional acceptance from a powerful, warrior God who has just wiped out a sizeable proportion of God’s people with tactics nothing short of terrorism: a great flood.
But the story of our Judaeo-Christian heritage doesn’t stop there. There a several extraordinary covenant “cuttings” along the way. One cuts a covenant as one divides a carcass to share among the covenant partners for surely a covenant demands a celebration. (Noah has already built an altar and had quite a barbeque in the lead-up to the account of the making of the covenant.) And any occasion for celebration, particularly, a covenantal one, is surely one for weeping—haven’t you watched the parents at a wedding or perhaps been one yourself? They’re so happy they could cry and they do. But it’s just an absolutely ordinary thing, the making of a covenant, and yet at the same time absolutely extraordinary—an unconditional compact between 2 or more parties. We’ve learnt to second guess ourselves and make sure all the bases are covered, even with marriages in these days of pre-nuptial contracts.
But if Noah hasn’t got you weeping, surely the story of Jesus’ baptism will. How many of us have waited for that affirming word from a parent, a boss, a friend, a colleague, a stranger? And how often has it not come? And here in this story, an adult child is willing immersed in the chaotic waters (even after that promise from God about no floods), willingly immersed in a ceremony that changes lives and changes worlds. And according to Mark, something extraordinarily ordinary happens: the child is affirmed as beloved, unconditionally by his parent, by God. An absolutely extraordinary, unconditional, ordinary parental promise.
Both the covenant witnessed to by the bow in the sky and the one by the Spirit descending as a dove are wrought in the chaotic waters of flood and immersion, both are reliant on the gifting of God, both are unwarranted and both are freely given. Of course, by the time we get to Jesus, the warrior God has been left a little way behind (although the hangover is still there), but the worry about what God will or should do in the face of human behaviour probably hasn’t—despite the Noachian covenant.
In the story of Noah, in the aftermath of the flood, a covenant is wrought. In the story of Jesus, following his immersion an affirmation is given. Out of the trials of water, new discoveries are made about the promises of God: absolutely extraordinarily ordinary. It is enough to produce weeping: the promise of unconditional love, unconditional acceptance, unconditional peace, unconditional relationship.
And yet it is precisely the overwhelming nature of extraordinary unconditional ordinary covenants that produces a response: weeping and celebration, sacrifice and worship, entry into the wilderness—responses to the extraordinary gift of God.
It’s Lent. During Lent, we are called to remember and to honour God’s extraordinary unconditional promise to us: that through Christ, eternal peace has been made; because of Christ, there will not be war between humanity and God anymore; in Christ, we are immersed into the body of Christ and enfolded into the life of God. All that we need do is respond to such an extraordinary gift as an absolutely ordinary rainbow!
Lord God,
in baptism, you brought us into union with Christ
who fulfils your gracious covenant;
and in bread and wine
we receive the fruit of his obedience.
So with joy
we take upon ourselves the yoke of obedience,
and commit ourselves to seek and do your perfect will.
Amen.
[from the service for “Renewing the Covenant”, UiW2]
A reading of the poem "An Absolutely Ordinary Rainbow" by Les Murray began this sermon: http://www.lesmurray.org/pm_aor.htm
An absolutely ordinary rainbow. An absolutely, ordinary rainbow. An absolutely, ordinary rainbow! This is the sign of God’s covenant with God’s people: a rainbow hung like a warrior’s bow upon the tent wall—a bow put up for peace—“ain’t gonna worry about war no more”. An absolutely ordinary rainbow.
An absolutely ordinary rainbow made from sunlight shining through the prisms of moisture in the atmosphere: a meteorologist could give us a long treatise on its scientific explanation. But it’s still an absolutely ordinary rainbow. And nevertheless, a sign: a sign of God’s covenant, at least according to Genesis—a sign of God’s covenant “never again” to “cut off” “all flesh” “by the waters of a flood”; “never again” “to destroy the earth” “by flood”. And it’s a special kind of covenant—an unconditional one. There’s nothing that humanity has to do. God will simply fulfil the promise. An absolutely ordinary rainbow. An absolutely extraordinary, unconditional promise.
So, according to the story of Noah and Shem and Ham and Japheth and their unnamed wives and that impossible menagerie of pairs or was it sevens of every kind of animal in all the earth (there are 2 different takes on the plot), according to this story, God offers an unconditional promise, an unconditional promise of peace (“there ain’t gonna be war no more”) between God and humanity. An absolutely ordinary rainbow. An absolutely extraordinary, unconditional promise. A covenant between God and humanity made unconditionally by God.
Surely, that is enough to make one weep: unconditional acceptance from a powerful, warrior God who has just wiped out a sizeable proportion of God’s people with tactics nothing short of terrorism: a great flood.
But the story of our Judaeo-Christian heritage doesn’t stop there. There a several extraordinary covenant “cuttings” along the way. One cuts a covenant as one divides a carcass to share among the covenant partners for surely a covenant demands a celebration. (Noah has already built an altar and had quite a barbeque in the lead-up to the account of the making of the covenant.) And any occasion for celebration, particularly, a covenantal one, is surely one for weeping—haven’t you watched the parents at a wedding or perhaps been one yourself? They’re so happy they could cry and they do. But it’s just an absolutely ordinary thing, the making of a covenant, and yet at the same time absolutely extraordinary—an unconditional compact between 2 or more parties. We’ve learnt to second guess ourselves and make sure all the bases are covered, even with marriages in these days of pre-nuptial contracts.
But if Noah hasn’t got you weeping, surely the story of Jesus’ baptism will. How many of us have waited for that affirming word from a parent, a boss, a friend, a colleague, a stranger? And how often has it not come? And here in this story, an adult child is willing immersed in the chaotic waters (even after that promise from God about no floods), willingly immersed in a ceremony that changes lives and changes worlds. And according to Mark, something extraordinarily ordinary happens: the child is affirmed as beloved, unconditionally by his parent, by God. An absolutely extraordinary, unconditional, ordinary parental promise.
Both the covenant witnessed to by the bow in the sky and the one by the Spirit descending as a dove are wrought in the chaotic waters of flood and immersion, both are reliant on the gifting of God, both are unwarranted and both are freely given. Of course, by the time we get to Jesus, the warrior God has been left a little way behind (although the hangover is still there), but the worry about what God will or should do in the face of human behaviour probably hasn’t—despite the Noachian covenant.
In the story of Noah, in the aftermath of the flood, a covenant is wrought. In the story of Jesus, following his immersion an affirmation is given. Out of the trials of water, new discoveries are made about the promises of God: absolutely extraordinarily ordinary. It is enough to produce weeping: the promise of unconditional love, unconditional acceptance, unconditional peace, unconditional relationship.
And yet it is precisely the overwhelming nature of extraordinary unconditional ordinary covenants that produces a response: weeping and celebration, sacrifice and worship, entry into the wilderness—responses to the extraordinary gift of God.
It’s Lent. During Lent, we are called to remember and to honour God’s extraordinary unconditional promise to us: that through Christ, eternal peace has been made; because of Christ, there will not be war between humanity and God anymore; in Christ, we are immersed into the body of Christ and enfolded into the life of God. All that we need do is respond to such an extraordinary gift as an absolutely ordinary rainbow!
Lord God,
in baptism, you brought us into union with Christ
who fulfils your gracious covenant;
and in bread and wine
we receive the fruit of his obedience.
So with joy
we take upon ourselves the yoke of obedience,
and commit ourselves to seek and do your perfect will.
Amen.
[from the service for “Renewing the Covenant”, UiW2]
Entering Lent
Uniting in Worship 2 (p. 573) reminds us that “Lent is a time of preparation for Easter”. It lasts 40 days plus Sundays. Sundays don’t count because that is the day when Christians celebrate Christ in fullness—life, death and resurrection. Lent ends at sunset (the beginning and end of the biblical day) on Easter Saturday.
In this time of preparation, we are encouraged through prayer, fasting and acts of generosity and compassion to reflect on the love of God for us.
Lent Event focuses that reflection by asking us to “give up” something and to donate the money we save to a significant project supported by Uniting Church Overseas Aid (UCOA). The “giving up” reminds us of what the Triune God gives up in sending, coming and being in our world in the person and work of Christ. God does all this because of God’s great love for us and desire to be in continuing relationship with us.
Perhaps you might like to include this short prayer (or collect) in your daily prayer during the season of Lent as you focus on God’s great love for the world and desire for reconciliation with the whole of creation:
Spirit God,
we pray that in this Lenten season,
by prayer, study and self-giving,
we may penetrate more deeply
into the mystery of Christ’s journey;
that, following in the way
of Christ’s cross and passion,
we may come to share
in the healing and celebration
of Christ’s resurrection
through Christ, with Christ, in Christ,
for the glory of God. Amen.
This Collect is adapted from Carden, John (ed.) 1989. With All God’s People: The New Ecumenical Prayer Cycle. Geneva: WCC, 29, 37-38.
In this time of preparation, we are encouraged through prayer, fasting and acts of generosity and compassion to reflect on the love of God for us.
Lent Event focuses that reflection by asking us to “give up” something and to donate the money we save to a significant project supported by Uniting Church Overseas Aid (UCOA). The “giving up” reminds us of what the Triune God gives up in sending, coming and being in our world in the person and work of Christ. God does all this because of God’s great love for us and desire to be in continuing relationship with us.
Perhaps you might like to include this short prayer (or collect) in your daily prayer during the season of Lent as you focus on God’s great love for the world and desire for reconciliation with the whole of creation:
Spirit God,
we pray that in this Lenten season,
by prayer, study and self-giving,
we may penetrate more deeply
into the mystery of Christ’s journey;
that, following in the way
of Christ’s cross and passion,
we may come to share
in the healing and celebration
of Christ’s resurrection
through Christ, with Christ, in Christ,
for the glory of God. Amen.
This Collect is adapted from Carden, John (ed.) 1989. With All God’s People: The New Ecumenical Prayer Cycle. Geneva: WCC, 29, 37-38.
On Worship
Worship is the central activity of the Christian Life. It is the response of God’s people to the gift of God’s grace which we receive in Jesus Christ. Worship encompasses the whole of the Christian Life. It is embodied in our witness and service.
On the occasions when we gather together as members of the Body of Christ, the People of God, the Communion of the Spirit, explicitly to worship, we are entering into a space that shapes and defines the whole of the Christian Life. This space/time draws us again into the heart of our faith, the story of God’s life, the very life of God. This space/time undergirds and enables our life in God beyond this space/time.
In the Christian tradition, worship is corporate. It is in and of the church, the Body of Christ. Worship has a particular shape: it mirrors and moulds our relationship with the Triune God made know to us in Christ. Worship engages with our context. In worship, the Christian church brings the whole creation before God the Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier.
Worship is our primary theology and our primary spirituality. It is where we first express who God is, and who we are (and everything else is) in relation to God.
Precisely because of its key role, worship has a tendency to become a focal point for numerous lively issues within Christian communities. In a diverse community, living with diversity can create tensions. It is healthy for these tensions to be expressed sensitively and responsibly. Listening to one another and appreciating the unique perspectives that each brings is very important for the healthy expression of diversity. Diverse expressions within the Christian community are held together by our common faith in the God who created us, who loves us, who comes to us in Jesus, and who empowers us for service in Christ’s name.
Thanks for worshipping God as part of the Body of Christ today!
On the occasions when we gather together as members of the Body of Christ, the People of God, the Communion of the Spirit, explicitly to worship, we are entering into a space that shapes and defines the whole of the Christian Life. This space/time draws us again into the heart of our faith, the story of God’s life, the very life of God. This space/time undergirds and enables our life in God beyond this space/time.
In the Christian tradition, worship is corporate. It is in and of the church, the Body of Christ. Worship has a particular shape: it mirrors and moulds our relationship with the Triune God made know to us in Christ. Worship engages with our context. In worship, the Christian church brings the whole creation before God the Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier.
Worship is our primary theology and our primary spirituality. It is where we first express who God is, and who we are (and everything else is) in relation to God.
Precisely because of its key role, worship has a tendency to become a focal point for numerous lively issues within Christian communities. In a diverse community, living with diversity can create tensions. It is healthy for these tensions to be expressed sensitively and responsibly. Listening to one another and appreciating the unique perspectives that each brings is very important for the healthy expression of diversity. Diverse expressions within the Christian community are held together by our common faith in the God who created us, who loves us, who comes to us in Jesus, and who empowers us for service in Christ’s name.
Thanks for worshipping God as part of the Body of Christ today!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)