What a gift God has given us—
to be created in God’s image.
What a responsibility God has laid upon us—
to be stewards of God’s good creation.
What are human beings that God is so mindful of us?
Everything that we have is a gift from God;
and all that we are called to do is
to honour God the giver of every good thing.
Then let’s do just that and worship God…
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
For Such A Time As This
So, the Jesus All About Life TV ads begin this week. They are new ones prepared for this campaign and, as you’ve seen, their catch-phrase is “Jesus has answers”. “Jesus has answers”.
Well, I don’t know about you, but that’s not been my experience. More often than not, confronted by Jesus, I have more questions than answers. And you know I’m not so sure that that’s such a bad thing. The big questions of life are not solved so quickly with easy platitudes and sentimental phrases. If Jesus really has answers, how come life seems to be just a series of questions, even for Christians? And why is it that despite the questions without answers, Jesus still seems relevant to me, to us, today, at such a time as this, for such a time as this.
What is this time that we live in and where does God fit into it? Does God fit into it at all? These are real life questions for today… for such a time as this, but more often than not these questions come out in different forms, in forms relevant to our time, in questions that don’t even mention God—questions like: Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do the best intentions have unintended consequences? What is the purpose of the fleeting nature of mortal life? What is it that we really want and where on earth can we find it? And though God is never mentioned, these questions are explorations of ultimate things. They are questions about God and about everything in relation to God. They are faith questions, questions of meaning and purpose, questions of ultimate reality.
When confronted by such questions, the Judaeo-Christian tradition tends not to offer easy answers or definitive statements. No, more often than not, Jewish-Christian responses to these important life questions about ultimate reality are answered with prayers, with honest expressions and outpourings to God—Why God? How God? When God? Who God? What God?—with lament and thanksgiving, confession and supplication, with praise and invocation—and in the wake of those outpourings, we discover something about the nature of God, the nature of ourselves and the nature of everything in relation to God—but what we discover are not glib answers, but real life wisdom discovered through prayer.
And if those important life questions about ultimate reality are not worked through in prayerful torrents, they are generally responded to with story—narratives, and tales and parables.
And thus, we come to the story of Esther—a story which never mentions God—but which deals with an awful lot of ultimate questions, questions of meaning and purpose; a story about a woman challenged to find her purpose “for such a time as this”.
The book of Esther is a novella, a short story written with great skill and artistry using the literary techniques of suspense and caricature. It "combines fairy tale, legendary, heroic, or mythic elements with a history-like orientation to daily affairs in [a] recognizable sphere of life within a smaller community [and] … in high politics" (Gottwald, 1985:551-552):
Esther must negotiate this dilemma of relating to two cultural homes, that of her ancestors and that of her husband and, indeed, captor, for the story is set in the time of the exile of the Jews from their homeland. Esther has experience the lifestyle of captive and captor and her position of privilege is due to the silence which is kept about her racial origin. Who am I and where do I belong? What is my purpose? Why am I here?
Esther is a special story and a special book. It is also a different piece of writing from many others in the canon of Scripture. Esther is one of what are called the Festal Scrolls. There are five of them. The others are Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations, and Ruth. Each of these books is related to an annual Jewish ceremony and even today, those books are read on the relevant ceremonial dates.
Esther belongs to the feast of Purim, a time when Jews celebrate the deliverance from anti-Semitic pogroms such as those conducted in the Maccabean Hasmonean times before the coming of Jesus and in Tsarist Russia and in Nazi Germany. Purim is a celebration of the overcoming of Gentile opposition to Jewish identity but the victory over the Gentiles comes in quite a different way to that in the book of Daniel and indeed, it cuts across many of the laws found in the book of Deuteronomy.
Esther is firmly bound up in the traditions of the people amongst whom she lives, the Persians. She uses their system of government and their laws to overcome the threat at hand to her own people. She is at one time a good Persian queen and a good Jew, perhaps living in a world of compromise but negotiating the boundaries of such an arrangement with artistry and skill. She does not fit the paradigm of the orthodox Jews who seek to keep themselves separate from contact with Gentiles especially through intermarriage. In addition to this, the book of Esther in the Hebrew canon does not contain "a single explicit reference to God or the religious practices of Judaism" (Anderson, 1975:566).
In the first three centuries of the Christian era, there were doubts expressed amongst Jews over the right of the book to be in the canon. Yet it was also regarded as the scroll par excellence, the most perfect of all the scrolls. In later Jewish tradition, it was second only to the Torah this story of Jewish identity, of privileged position and of victory through devious means and political power plays over those who plotted against the Jews.
Now, it would be very easy to theologise away the significance of the story of Esther; just as it’s easy to say “Jesus has answers”. Even theology is used to avoid dealing with issues of power being played out before us. Esther could be seen as an example of the role of privileged people who have recognised their identity in Christ in taking responsibility for caring or pastoring those who have not yet discovered that identity. That's an important message if heard in the right context but it is only part of the significance of Esther for us.
The story of Esther is also a story about a woman in a privileged position working with the tools she has to free her people. And that work involves her risking the very privileged position that she enjoys “for such a time as this”.
The interplay of power dynamics is of course not confined to the story of Esther. We see it played out on the world stage—in the talks about responses to climate change. We see them played out nationally—in the toings and froings of oppositional politics. And we see them locally in different community groups vying for public attention. But they are also, of course, part of our own community situation here in this congregation. The play of power dynamics is part of what it means to be human; and that doesn’t mean it’s all bad, but it is a part of our everyday lives in a myriad of ways.
Esther is a story about someone who is clearly a part of her society, embroiled in it. But the important thing is that Esther uses her position to bring salvation to her people, not destruction—to build a future for her people, not to consign them to the past, however glorious a past that was.
As Christians, it can be tempting to think ourselves separate from the things that happen around us. Some Christians choose to do that. But that was not Esther's way, she used her position of privilege to bring about social change: not by withdrawing from her society but by actively participating in it—with all its questions and dilemmas—by acknowledging her position of privilege, understanding her people's plight and by putting herself, her reputation and even her life on the line.
The action of God, the act of salvation, is very clearly seen to be performed through Esther who is willing to enter into the struggle for freedom of her people. But she could only do it because she entered into her dilemma. She faced the ultimate questions of life and death, meaning and purpose facing her and her people.
And that is the gift and the example given to us in Jesus—not glib answers to ultimate questions, but a God who dares to be with us in the midst of the dilemmas, of the ultimate questions; a God who dares to get down and dirty, to get messy, to be human, to wrestle with life and death, to want to give up, to risk everything for the sake of what’s really important. And as the body of Christ, this also is our calling—to be in the dilemmas, in the dialogue, in the conversation, in the mess, in the struggle—for the sake of what’s important.
The Jesus All About Life ads are asking people to wrestle with some real life issues. Remember we’re asked to be prepared to have conversations around these ads. Perhaps as with me, the catch-phrase “Jesus has the answers” rests a bit uncomfortably with you. Perhaps, you’d prefer to say something like “Jesus makes a difference” or “Jesus understands” or “Jesus is in the conversation about real life issues” or something else. Maybe “Jesus has answers” is the way you’d say it. However, you would want to respond to those dilemmas or talk about your understanding of the relevance of faith in Christ for those dilemmas, they are real life dilemmas and as such they are invitations to conversation about what is really important, about ultimate questions, about meaning and purpose. Jesus is all about life; and life is all about questions. We are called to risk being in the conversation, and more often than not that means risking our privileged positions in our families, our workplaces, our communities.
And that’s where I want to make one more connection into our own community here, into this congregation. We are a marvellously diverse community, but there’s no doubt about it, our demographic strength lies in the over-60s; and that’s not a bad thing. It is in fact a strength we can celebrate; and we do in the document that is the outcome of our Visioning Process. We celebrate the spiritual maturity of our congregation—maturity that comes through faithfulness and life experience and lifetimes of waiting on God. But within our strengths are also our challenges.
For older people, some of the ultimate questions that are important may be—What is my legacy? Will the things that I think are important continue? Can I trust that the others who come after me will understand what has been important to me? And can I trust them to continue to do things in the way that I have done them?
Now it would be easy to think that there were easy answers to these questions. That we could prescribe how things are always to be done and what is understood to be important. But deep down, we know that we can’t. So here too we are called to risk. In this position of privilege—of longevity in the community, of participation in processes of decision-making, of being part of the regular crowd—we are called to risk giving it all up—to risk creating the space for others to be involved, to take up the tasks that have previously been ours, to express their praise and honour of God in new and fresh ways that keep the essence of what we are on about alive. We are called to risk our future, by letting it go in outpourings of prayer, of lament and thanksgiving, confession and supplication, praise and invocation; to risk it by giving it up in story—in narrative and tale and parable; and ultimately to trust that while there are no glib answers, God is with all and in all and through all, after all.
So, let’s risk the conversations; and let’s risk our powerful positions for the sake of what’s really important. We can do nothing less if we claim that we bear the name of the one who risked everything for our sake.
Well, I don’t know about you, but that’s not been my experience. More often than not, confronted by Jesus, I have more questions than answers. And you know I’m not so sure that that’s such a bad thing. The big questions of life are not solved so quickly with easy platitudes and sentimental phrases. If Jesus really has answers, how come life seems to be just a series of questions, even for Christians? And why is it that despite the questions without answers, Jesus still seems relevant to me, to us, today, at such a time as this, for such a time as this.
What is this time that we live in and where does God fit into it? Does God fit into it at all? These are real life questions for today… for such a time as this, but more often than not these questions come out in different forms, in forms relevant to our time, in questions that don’t even mention God—questions like: Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do the best intentions have unintended consequences? What is the purpose of the fleeting nature of mortal life? What is it that we really want and where on earth can we find it? And though God is never mentioned, these questions are explorations of ultimate things. They are questions about God and about everything in relation to God. They are faith questions, questions of meaning and purpose, questions of ultimate reality.
When confronted by such questions, the Judaeo-Christian tradition tends not to offer easy answers or definitive statements. No, more often than not, Jewish-Christian responses to these important life questions about ultimate reality are answered with prayers, with honest expressions and outpourings to God—Why God? How God? When God? Who God? What God?—with lament and thanksgiving, confession and supplication, with praise and invocation—and in the wake of those outpourings, we discover something about the nature of God, the nature of ourselves and the nature of everything in relation to God—but what we discover are not glib answers, but real life wisdom discovered through prayer.
And if those important life questions about ultimate reality are not worked through in prayerful torrents, they are generally responded to with story—narratives, and tales and parables.
And thus, we come to the story of Esther—a story which never mentions God—but which deals with an awful lot of ultimate questions, questions of meaning and purpose; a story about a woman challenged to find her purpose “for such a time as this”.
The book of Esther is a novella, a short story written with great skill and artistry using the literary techniques of suspense and caricature. It "combines fairy tale, legendary, heroic, or mythic elements with a history-like orientation to daily affairs in [a] recognizable sphere of life within a smaller community [and] … in high politics" (Gottwald, 1985:551-552):
Set in the time of the Persian Empire, the book of Esther tells of "a spectacular last-minute deliverance of all the Jews within the Persian Empire from a plot to annihilate them. The plot is hatched in high government circles and it is Jews serving in those very circles who become the agents of Jewish salvation. Esther, the Jewish queen of Ahasuerus, helped by her cousin and one-time guardian Mordecai, frustrates the designs of Haman to kill Mordecai and then to slaughter the entire Jewish populace. Instead, in perfect poetic justice, Haman is hanged on the gallows he prepared for Mordecai. The enemies of the Jews who would have killed the Jews are themselves killed by the Jews.And in the midst of all this is the figure of Esther, Jewish girl risen to the rank of Persian queen. She is caught in a dilemma: a dilemma about identity, about loyalty, about survival or herself and her people. She is facing her own set of ultimate questions—what matters? Can one person make any difference? Am I responsible for myself or for my people or both?
The plot is replete with dramatic reversals: the Persian Vashti is replaced as queen by the Jewish Esther; newly promoted Haman, who cannot stand Mordecai's lack of deference toward him, in scheming to kill his rival loses his own life and his position is granted to Mordecai; an imperial decree to slaughter the Jews concocted by Haman is superseded by an imperial decree to slaughter the enemies of the Jews dictated by Mordecai.
The action is framed by court banquet scenes and audiences with the king. The driving tension in the plot is whether the anti-Jewish or the pro-Jewish forces in the court will receive the blessing of the king who appears as a manipulable power figure without decided judgments of his own (Gottwald, 1985:561).
Esther must negotiate this dilemma of relating to two cultural homes, that of her ancestors and that of her husband and, indeed, captor, for the story is set in the time of the exile of the Jews from their homeland. Esther has experience the lifestyle of captive and captor and her position of privilege is due to the silence which is kept about her racial origin. Who am I and where do I belong? What is my purpose? Why am I here?
Esther is a special story and a special book. It is also a different piece of writing from many others in the canon of Scripture. Esther is one of what are called the Festal Scrolls. There are five of them. The others are Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations, and Ruth. Each of these books is related to an annual Jewish ceremony and even today, those books are read on the relevant ceremonial dates.
Esther belongs to the feast of Purim, a time when Jews celebrate the deliverance from anti-Semitic pogroms such as those conducted in the Maccabean Hasmonean times before the coming of Jesus and in Tsarist Russia and in Nazi Germany. Purim is a celebration of the overcoming of Gentile opposition to Jewish identity but the victory over the Gentiles comes in quite a different way to that in the book of Daniel and indeed, it cuts across many of the laws found in the book of Deuteronomy.
Esther is firmly bound up in the traditions of the people amongst whom she lives, the Persians. She uses their system of government and their laws to overcome the threat at hand to her own people. She is at one time a good Persian queen and a good Jew, perhaps living in a world of compromise but negotiating the boundaries of such an arrangement with artistry and skill. She does not fit the paradigm of the orthodox Jews who seek to keep themselves separate from contact with Gentiles especially through intermarriage. In addition to this, the book of Esther in the Hebrew canon does not contain "a single explicit reference to God or the religious practices of Judaism" (Anderson, 1975:566).
In the first three centuries of the Christian era, there were doubts expressed amongst Jews over the right of the book to be in the canon. Yet it was also regarded as the scroll par excellence, the most perfect of all the scrolls. In later Jewish tradition, it was second only to the Torah this story of Jewish identity, of privileged position and of victory through devious means and political power plays over those who plotted against the Jews.
Now, it would be very easy to theologise away the significance of the story of Esther; just as it’s easy to say “Jesus has answers”. Even theology is used to avoid dealing with issues of power being played out before us. Esther could be seen as an example of the role of privileged people who have recognised their identity in Christ in taking responsibility for caring or pastoring those who have not yet discovered that identity. That's an important message if heard in the right context but it is only part of the significance of Esther for us.
The story of Esther is also a story about a woman in a privileged position working with the tools she has to free her people. And that work involves her risking the very privileged position that she enjoys “for such a time as this”.
The interplay of power dynamics is of course not confined to the story of Esther. We see it played out on the world stage—in the talks about responses to climate change. We see them played out nationally—in the toings and froings of oppositional politics. And we see them locally in different community groups vying for public attention. But they are also, of course, part of our own community situation here in this congregation. The play of power dynamics is part of what it means to be human; and that doesn’t mean it’s all bad, but it is a part of our everyday lives in a myriad of ways.
Esther is a story about someone who is clearly a part of her society, embroiled in it. But the important thing is that Esther uses her position to bring salvation to her people, not destruction—to build a future for her people, not to consign them to the past, however glorious a past that was.
As Christians, it can be tempting to think ourselves separate from the things that happen around us. Some Christians choose to do that. But that was not Esther's way, she used her position of privilege to bring about social change: not by withdrawing from her society but by actively participating in it—with all its questions and dilemmas—by acknowledging her position of privilege, understanding her people's plight and by putting herself, her reputation and even her life on the line.
The action of God, the act of salvation, is very clearly seen to be performed through Esther who is willing to enter into the struggle for freedom of her people. But she could only do it because she entered into her dilemma. She faced the ultimate questions of life and death, meaning and purpose facing her and her people.
And that is the gift and the example given to us in Jesus—not glib answers to ultimate questions, but a God who dares to be with us in the midst of the dilemmas, of the ultimate questions; a God who dares to get down and dirty, to get messy, to be human, to wrestle with life and death, to want to give up, to risk everything for the sake of what’s really important. And as the body of Christ, this also is our calling—to be in the dilemmas, in the dialogue, in the conversation, in the mess, in the struggle—for the sake of what’s important.
The Jesus All About Life ads are asking people to wrestle with some real life issues. Remember we’re asked to be prepared to have conversations around these ads. Perhaps as with me, the catch-phrase “Jesus has the answers” rests a bit uncomfortably with you. Perhaps, you’d prefer to say something like “Jesus makes a difference” or “Jesus understands” or “Jesus is in the conversation about real life issues” or something else. Maybe “Jesus has answers” is the way you’d say it. However, you would want to respond to those dilemmas or talk about your understanding of the relevance of faith in Christ for those dilemmas, they are real life dilemmas and as such they are invitations to conversation about what is really important, about ultimate questions, about meaning and purpose. Jesus is all about life; and life is all about questions. We are called to risk being in the conversation, and more often than not that means risking our privileged positions in our families, our workplaces, our communities.
And that’s where I want to make one more connection into our own community here, into this congregation. We are a marvellously diverse community, but there’s no doubt about it, our demographic strength lies in the over-60s; and that’s not a bad thing. It is in fact a strength we can celebrate; and we do in the document that is the outcome of our Visioning Process. We celebrate the spiritual maturity of our congregation—maturity that comes through faithfulness and life experience and lifetimes of waiting on God. But within our strengths are also our challenges.
For older people, some of the ultimate questions that are important may be—What is my legacy? Will the things that I think are important continue? Can I trust that the others who come after me will understand what has been important to me? And can I trust them to continue to do things in the way that I have done them?
Now it would be easy to think that there were easy answers to these questions. That we could prescribe how things are always to be done and what is understood to be important. But deep down, we know that we can’t. So here too we are called to risk. In this position of privilege—of longevity in the community, of participation in processes of decision-making, of being part of the regular crowd—we are called to risk giving it all up—to risk creating the space for others to be involved, to take up the tasks that have previously been ours, to express their praise and honour of God in new and fresh ways that keep the essence of what we are on about alive. We are called to risk our future, by letting it go in outpourings of prayer, of lament and thanksgiving, confession and supplication, praise and invocation; to risk it by giving it up in story—in narrative and tale and parable; and ultimately to trust that while there are no glib answers, God is with all and in all and through all, after all.
So, let’s risk the conversations; and let’s risk our powerful positions for the sake of what’s really important. We can do nothing less if we claim that we bear the name of the one who risked everything for our sake.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Jesus All About Life
The Jesus All About Life TV advertisements begin this week. They are new ones prepared for this campaign. Their catch-phrase is “Jesus has answers”. The text of the main ad is:
Perhaps as with me, the catch-phrase “Jesus has the answers” rests a bit uncomfortably with you. Perhaps, you’d prefer to say something like “Jesus makes a difference” or “Jesus understands” or “Jesus is in the conversation about real life issues” or something else. You can find some reflections on the life dilemmas raised at http://www.biblesocietynsw.com.au/_literature_53726/JAAL_Web_Text These reflections are just some of the ways of approaching those dilemmas in Christian ways. Remember the dilemmas are invitations to conversation and you are an important conversation partner.
Here are some sentences from the website indicated above that I thought might help conversations to open up rather than close down. I’ve added some questions of my own for you to think from your own faith perspective:
Jesus is all about life; and life is all about questions. Let’s be in the conversation!
Hey Jesus, thanks for the sunshine, but what about the sunburn?The ads are asking people to wrestle with some real life issues. Remember we’re asked to be prepared to have conversations around these ads.
Hey Jesus, how come the more I have, the more I want?
We’ve got more friends, but less friendship.
More convenience. Less patience.
We have bigger hopes, but more uncertainty.
A healthy body still isn’t good enough.
How come the best things are always have to end?
Jesus has answers.
Perhaps as with me, the catch-phrase “Jesus has the answers” rests a bit uncomfortably with you. Perhaps, you’d prefer to say something like “Jesus makes a difference” or “Jesus understands” or “Jesus is in the conversation about real life issues” or something else. You can find some reflections on the life dilemmas raised at http://www.biblesocietynsw.com.au/_literature_53726/JAAL_Web_Text These reflections are just some of the ways of approaching those dilemmas in Christian ways. Remember the dilemmas are invitations to conversation and you are an important conversation partner.
Here are some sentences from the website indicated above that I thought might help conversations to open up rather than close down. I’ve added some questions of my own for you to think from your own faith perspective:
Hey Jesus, thanks for the sunshine, but what about the sunburn?“Sunburn wakes us up in order that we can start to recognise that there are problems in this world.” What do we need to wake up to, and how does our faith help us wake up?
Hey Jesus, how come the more I have, the more I want?“It is an odd thing about human nature, but no matter how much we buy it never seems to last.” What might we be looking for in our endless consumerism, and how does our faith help us to move beyond the desire for material things?
We’ve got more friends, but less friendship.In the story of the Good Samaritan, the neighbour is the one who acts. What does it mean to be a friend, and how does our faith help us to understand and act in friendship?
More convenience. Less patience.“We can make instant coffee in no time but we often choose to wait for and buy good coffee because we like the outcome. We appreciate good coffee so we don’t mind waiting. Impatience works against some of the important areas of life. Things like relationships, character, parenting and caring for others all take time and all require patience.” How does our faith help us with knowing what the good things are and being patient in seeking/waiting for them?
We have bigger hopes, but more uncertainty.“Our biggest hopes are heaven on earth—health, wealth and freedom. Our big fears are hell on earth—ending up poor, sick and powerless.” How does our faith help us to live with the uncertainty of life and being human?
A healthy body still isn’t good enough.“We have better health care than ever before in history and at the same time record levels of anxiety and depression amongst men and women at every level of society. We fear death so we worship youth. We have an unhealthy obsession with looking young.” “External image can help you in job interviews and impress people at a distance but it is who you are as a person that will determine the significant of your life.” How does our faith determine who we are and what difference does that make?
How come the best things are always have to end?“Our existence is determined by time. Every moment of our lives are marked by the ticking clock that records the progression of time and marks the steps towards the end of whatever human endeavour we are involved in. Most humans living in developed, western and wealthy cultures resent that we can’t control all of our lives and that we can’t cheat the clock…The challenge is to look beyond the present and ask questions about what actually lasts, what goes on into the future, what will make a difference.” What does our faith tell us about what lasts and what matters? How does our faith help us to live for what lasts and what matters?
Jesus is all about life; and life is all about questions. Let’s be in the conversation!
Stewardship
Stewards are managers of property that does not belong to them. Their management occurs on behalf of someone else—a landlord or property holder; a company or a whole community. Stewards may be a part of a larger entity to which the property belongs, but it is never their sole privilege to claim “ownership” or connection with that which requires stewarding.
As a congregation, we have stewardship of the buildings and property which “belong” to the wider Uniting Church. We are part of the larger entity, but we are not the whole and we are asked to make our decisions in relation to these resources with a mind not just to the whole Uniting Church, but the whole church catholic (universal).
Personally and individually, we are stewards of property which, in Anglo Australian culture, is seen as very much “belonging” to us. We receive income in some form. We may “own” a house or land. And yet even these are not “ours”. They pass through our hands. What we do with them affects not just us, but our community and the future of our community… and indeed our globe.
Climate change has been very much on the global agenda this week (and not just this week, but especially this week in its global focus on climate). The idea of “ownership” has tended to promote the attitude that we can do what we like with what we’ve got. When we think about what we have in terms of stewardship, we begin to notice just how our use of resources isn’t just about us, but about everybody and everything.
Our congregation of Armidale Uniting Church is richly blessed by the stewardship of its members—in gifts of money and time, skills, talents and other resources. Truly these gifts are not “ours”—they are given to us as stewards. Truly also they are not “ours” in that they are given for the sake of God’s realm, God’s mission and God’s call on our lives. Thank you for your generosity, for your gifts and for your stewardship of those gifts for the sake of God’s commonwealth of justice and peace.
May God guide us as we continue to exercise stewardship of the resources to which we have access!
As a congregation, we have stewardship of the buildings and property which “belong” to the wider Uniting Church. We are part of the larger entity, but we are not the whole and we are asked to make our decisions in relation to these resources with a mind not just to the whole Uniting Church, but the whole church catholic (universal).
Personally and individually, we are stewards of property which, in Anglo Australian culture, is seen as very much “belonging” to us. We receive income in some form. We may “own” a house or land. And yet even these are not “ours”. They pass through our hands. What we do with them affects not just us, but our community and the future of our community… and indeed our globe.
Climate change has been very much on the global agenda this week (and not just this week, but especially this week in its global focus on climate). The idea of “ownership” has tended to promote the attitude that we can do what we like with what we’ve got. When we think about what we have in terms of stewardship, we begin to notice just how our use of resources isn’t just about us, but about everybody and everything.
Our congregation of Armidale Uniting Church is richly blessed by the stewardship of its members—in gifts of money and time, skills, talents and other resources. Truly these gifts are not “ours”—they are given to us as stewards. Truly also they are not “ours” in that they are given for the sake of God’s realm, God’s mission and God’s call on our lives. Thank you for your generosity, for your gifts and for your stewardship of those gifts for the sake of God’s commonwealth of justice and peace.
May God guide us as we continue to exercise stewardship of the resources to which we have access!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Peace
Monday 21 September is the United Nations’ International Day of Peace.
The 10th Assembly (2003) of The Uniting Church in Australia resolved (Minute 03.19.02(c)):
The biblical notion of peace (shalom Hebrew) is not simply about the absence of conflict. Sometimes disagreement and argument when conducted with respect can be constructive. Peace is also not about ignoring conflicts.
Shalom is not simply about quiet, but about wholeness and about wellbeing, not just of individuals, but of community and of the whole creation.
Christian people believe that true peace between God and creation is achieved in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, i.e. in God entering the creation itself. As members of Christ’s body, we are called to witness to that peace through our lives—our words, our actions, the way we live in the world. Everything counts. Act for peace. Live for peace wherever you find yourself each day.
The 10th Assembly (2003) of The Uniting Church in Australia resolved (Minute 03.19.02(c)):
affirming that God loves all creation and that all people, as members of God’s family, are called to love each other, and, recalling past resolutions of this Assembly, that God came in the crucified and risen Christ to make peace; and that God calls all Christians to be peacemakers, to save life, to heal and to love their neighbours; and that the Church is committed to be a peacemaking body;
to commit to work for peace through justice and genuine security,
believing that:
(i) true justice can only be achieved through means that do not consist of violence, nor perpetuate the cycle of violence;
(ii) true security can only be achieved through non-violent means that seek to build trust and relationships of understanding and acceptance between nations and people.
The biblical notion of peace (shalom Hebrew) is not simply about the absence of conflict. Sometimes disagreement and argument when conducted with respect can be constructive. Peace is also not about ignoring conflicts.
Shalom is not simply about quiet, but about wholeness and about wellbeing, not just of individuals, but of community and of the whole creation.
Christian people believe that true peace between God and creation is achieved in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, i.e. in God entering the creation itself. As members of Christ’s body, we are called to witness to that peace through our lives—our words, our actions, the way we live in the world. Everything counts. Act for peace. Live for peace wherever you find yourself each day.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Words
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”
We say it to children to help them (supposedly) to deal with the cruelties of the school playground, although I’m not sure it ever helps much. Instinctively, children know the value of words and their results:
“Children who live with criticism, learn to condemn.”
The Judaeo-Christian tradition doesn’t think the aphorism about sticks and stones is worth much either. In the Bible, words mean everything:
“In the beginning, God said… and there was…” (Genesis 1: 3)
“In the beginning, the Word was with God and the Word was God… all things we made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made.” (John 1:1, 3)
God’s word is event. Speech is act. It has an effect and it matters. And more than that, words create worlds. The nature of God’s Word (logos) is to take flesh, to become incarnate, to come into mortal being, to be God in our midst (Emmanuel—“God with us”).
“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14)
The Epistle of James knows this and cautions Christians about the effects of the tongue—the effects of words, language, speech:
“With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God.” (James 3:9)
As followers of the Living Word, Jesus Christ, we are called to use our words and actions to embody the mission of Christ in the world: peace, reconciliation, justice, forgiveness, hope, love…
Words matter. They create worlds. Pray that, through our words and actions, it is God’s world that comes into being in our midst.
We say it to children to help them (supposedly) to deal with the cruelties of the school playground, although I’m not sure it ever helps much. Instinctively, children know the value of words and their results:
“Children who live with criticism, learn to condemn.”
The Judaeo-Christian tradition doesn’t think the aphorism about sticks and stones is worth much either. In the Bible, words mean everything:
“In the beginning, God said… and there was…” (Genesis 1: 3)
“In the beginning, the Word was with God and the Word was God… all things we made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made.” (John 1:1, 3)
God’s word is event. Speech is act. It has an effect and it matters. And more than that, words create worlds. The nature of God’s Word (logos) is to take flesh, to become incarnate, to come into mortal being, to be God in our midst (Emmanuel—“God with us”).
“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14)
The Epistle of James knows this and cautions Christians about the effects of the tongue—the effects of words, language, speech:
“With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God.” (James 3:9)
As followers of the Living Word, Jesus Christ, we are called to use our words and actions to embody the mission of Christ in the world: peace, reconciliation, justice, forgiveness, hope, love…
Words matter. They create worlds. Pray that, through our words and actions, it is God’s world that comes into being in our midst.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Fatherhood of God
The first words of the Lord’s Prayer roll off our tongues and out of our mouths with ease; and yet they are perhaps some of the most revolutionary words of the Christian faith—“Our Father”.
The fatherhood of God is imagery brought to the fore by the Jesus movement. For Christian theology, it holds some very important ideas.
Firstly, Jesus is God’s Son. The language of father-son comes from a time when this relationship was the primary relationship in a continuing family line. The firstborn son received the fullness of the inheritance of the Father. The imagery depicts the closeness of the relationship between God the Father (first person of the Trinity) and God the Son (second person of the Trinity) who was incarnate as Jesus.
Secondly, the language of father-son enfolds us into that close relationship. In Christ, we are co-heirs with Christ of the full inheritance. Through Christ, we are made “sons” of God.
Thirdly, the father-son imagery ensures that our understanding of our relationship with God is relational; and it is of the essence of the closest relationships we have—with those who are of our very flesh and bone, who share their inheritance (not just wealth) with us, and with whom we share our inheritance.
In a world where patriarchal inheritance patterns are recognised as excluding many (daughters, younger sons), the language of father-son holds traps too. God’s love and our inheritance in God are not limited to men or “the right sort of men”; nor is it especially given to men in a unique way above women. God’s love is the unconditional love of a parent who does not show favouritism, but who enfolds us into his family as true children whether we were born into it, or whether we have been brought into it by adoption.
When we say, “Our Father”, we are witnessing to a powerful declaration that God shows no favouritism among his children—our abundant inheritance in God through Christ is shared as God’s children together.
The fatherhood of God is imagery brought to the fore by the Jesus movement. For Christian theology, it holds some very important ideas.
Firstly, Jesus is God’s Son. The language of father-son comes from a time when this relationship was the primary relationship in a continuing family line. The firstborn son received the fullness of the inheritance of the Father. The imagery depicts the closeness of the relationship between God the Father (first person of the Trinity) and God the Son (second person of the Trinity) who was incarnate as Jesus.
Secondly, the language of father-son enfolds us into that close relationship. In Christ, we are co-heirs with Christ of the full inheritance. Through Christ, we are made “sons” of God.
Thirdly, the father-son imagery ensures that our understanding of our relationship with God is relational; and it is of the essence of the closest relationships we have—with those who are of our very flesh and bone, who share their inheritance (not just wealth) with us, and with whom we share our inheritance.
In a world where patriarchal inheritance patterns are recognised as excluding many (daughters, younger sons), the language of father-son holds traps too. God’s love and our inheritance in God are not limited to men or “the right sort of men”; nor is it especially given to men in a unique way above women. God’s love is the unconditional love of a parent who does not show favouritism, but who enfolds us into his family as true children whether we were born into it, or whether we have been brought into it by adoption.
When we say, “Our Father”, we are witnessing to a powerful declaration that God shows no favouritism among his children—our abundant inheritance in God through Christ is shared as God’s children together.
Acts of Favouritism
“Venus and the Bride” by Titian was commissioned by Niccolo Aurelio, secretary to the Council of Venice in the early 16th century to celebrate his marriage to Laura Bagarotto. The painting depicts the bride dressed for her wedding and the goddess Venus, Roman goddess of love, beauty and fertility, as her attendant. Later convention gave it the name “Sacred and Profane Love” echoing the dual depiction of women throughout human history as “the angel in the house” and “the devil at the gateway” to use the words of one of our “church fathers” Tertullian. But we mis-judge the picture if we think of it only as a caricature, a cartoon, of the good and the bad woman. It is a much more complex picture than that.
The bride neatly dressed in white is set against a wilderness scene and far in the background a grand citadel. A red sleeve is visible under her white gown. In contrast, Venus is set against an idyllic pastoral scene complete with village and church spire. While her drape is predominantly red, a white cloth covers her lap. These women are not from different worlds. Their worlds are intermingled. They collide and merge with one another.
The story of Jesus’ encounter with the Syrophonecian woman is often similarly misjudged as Titian’s painting of Venus and the Bride. The 2 characters, Jesus and the woman, are depicted by commentators as coming from very different worlds—and in part that’s true. But like the story of Titian’s painting, you can only come to that conclusion if you gloss over the detail. When we examine this encounter closely, we discover that the worlds of Jesus and the woman are intermingled. They collide and merge with one another.
In the region of Tyre, Jesus is out of his territory. Far north of Galilee, he is in fact in the territory of the woman—Syro-Phoenicia. She too is out of place—a woman approaching a man in a public place—although the text is certain why she is there—her daughter is not well.
Now more often than not, our Christian interpretations of this text have endeavoured to make sure that Jesus’ character is not besmirched, although they have been quite open to depicting the woman as a dog of a Gentile. Jesus, it has been argued, was testing the woman’s faith. When she demonstrates that faith, her daughter is healed. If it is a demonstration of faith that Jesus is seeking, then he receives a very sophisticated one, because the matter on which the discussion takes place is no small point, the woman engages in the debate with skill, and wins her case in this rabbinic dialogue—the student bests the teacher and the teacher concedes.
The insult against Gentiles mouthed by Jesus is no small one. It cannot be minimised by pretending that it is about puppies. No, it is a slur against the woman’s character, no less than calling someone a dog or a bitch today would be such a slur. Jesus may be mouthing what is commonplace, but the words are still coming out of his mouth according to the text. And the woman calls him to task.
In this exchange, Jesus has been taken into the woman’s world of concern for her daughter and the need to stand up for justice when noone else will do it. Jesus ears and eyes are opened; and he moves on to do the same for another. "Ephphatha", "Be opened" and the deaf can hear and the mute speak.
The Epistle of James wants to open people’s eyes, ears and mouths too. It warns against judging by appearances. Just because the woman is Syrophonecian, it doesn’t mean she’s dumb. And just because the man can’t hear, doesn’t mean he’s stupid. But we Christians maybe.
We may be dumb and stupid if we think that wealth is a sign of favour with God and poverty proof of sin and guilt. It may just be the other way round. The worlds of the rich and the poor are no so different worlds. They are intermingled. They collide and merge with one another. Middle class manners don’t make a Christian; nor does being out of place mean that you haven’t found a place in God’s realm.
So what does it mean when we favour the rich and the clean, the vibrant and the easy to know? Have we recognise God’s commonwealth or merely been taken in by appearances? Our acts of favouritism betray where our hearts lie. God shows no partiality—the rain falls on us all, or not; the sun shines on us all, or not.
And where does that leave us? It isn’t so simple discerning the sheep from the goats or the children from the dogs; but then perhaps that’s not our job. Perhaps judgement is not and has never been ours. Both the children and the dogs need feeding. Both the sheep and the goats need tending. It’s not just friends who are our neighbours, but acquaintances and oddballs, strangers and even enemies. And there is no distinction in God—we’re asked to love them all.
The bride neatly dressed in white is set against a wilderness scene and far in the background a grand citadel. A red sleeve is visible under her white gown. In contrast, Venus is set against an idyllic pastoral scene complete with village and church spire. While her drape is predominantly red, a white cloth covers her lap. These women are not from different worlds. Their worlds are intermingled. They collide and merge with one another.
The story of Jesus’ encounter with the Syrophonecian woman is often similarly misjudged as Titian’s painting of Venus and the Bride. The 2 characters, Jesus and the woman, are depicted by commentators as coming from very different worlds—and in part that’s true. But like the story of Titian’s painting, you can only come to that conclusion if you gloss over the detail. When we examine this encounter closely, we discover that the worlds of Jesus and the woman are intermingled. They collide and merge with one another.
In the region of Tyre, Jesus is out of his territory. Far north of Galilee, he is in fact in the territory of the woman—Syro-Phoenicia. She too is out of place—a woman approaching a man in a public place—although the text is certain why she is there—her daughter is not well.
Now more often than not, our Christian interpretations of this text have endeavoured to make sure that Jesus’ character is not besmirched, although they have been quite open to depicting the woman as a dog of a Gentile. Jesus, it has been argued, was testing the woman’s faith. When she demonstrates that faith, her daughter is healed. If it is a demonstration of faith that Jesus is seeking, then he receives a very sophisticated one, because the matter on which the discussion takes place is no small point, the woman engages in the debate with skill, and wins her case in this rabbinic dialogue—the student bests the teacher and the teacher concedes.
The insult against Gentiles mouthed by Jesus is no small one. It cannot be minimised by pretending that it is about puppies. No, it is a slur against the woman’s character, no less than calling someone a dog or a bitch today would be such a slur. Jesus may be mouthing what is commonplace, but the words are still coming out of his mouth according to the text. And the woman calls him to task.
In this exchange, Jesus has been taken into the woman’s world of concern for her daughter and the need to stand up for justice when noone else will do it. Jesus ears and eyes are opened; and he moves on to do the same for another. "Ephphatha", "Be opened" and the deaf can hear and the mute speak.
The Epistle of James wants to open people’s eyes, ears and mouths too. It warns against judging by appearances. Just because the woman is Syrophonecian, it doesn’t mean she’s dumb. And just because the man can’t hear, doesn’t mean he’s stupid. But we Christians maybe.
We may be dumb and stupid if we think that wealth is a sign of favour with God and poverty proof of sin and guilt. It may just be the other way round. The worlds of the rich and the poor are no so different worlds. They are intermingled. They collide and merge with one another. Middle class manners don’t make a Christian; nor does being out of place mean that you haven’t found a place in God’s realm.
So what does it mean when we favour the rich and the clean, the vibrant and the easy to know? Have we recognise God’s commonwealth or merely been taken in by appearances? Our acts of favouritism betray where our hearts lie. God shows no partiality—the rain falls on us all, or not; the sun shines on us all, or not.
And where does that leave us? It isn’t so simple discerning the sheep from the goats or the children from the dogs; but then perhaps that’s not our job. Perhaps judgement is not and has never been ours. Both the children and the dogs need feeding. Both the sheep and the goats need tending. It’s not just friends who are our neighbours, but acquaintances and oddballs, strangers and even enemies. And there is no distinction in God—we’re asked to love them all.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Confession & Forgiveness
PRAYER OF CONFESSION
Father of Jesus, Creator of all,
your name is beyond the greatest wealth;
your favour, more generous than the richest benefactor’s.
You sow justice; we plant injustice.
You share bread; we hoard crumbs.
You bless the least; we vie for their place in your realm.
Forgive our wickedness and greed.
Forgive our meanness of spirit and hardness of heart.
Teach us again your plan for reconciliation
and challenge us when we depart from it.
Call us to trust again in your ways;
and to seek the better part,
through Jesus Christ, your beloved Child,
and our Saviour. Amen.
PREFACE TO DECLARATION OF FORGIVENESS
Listen, sisters and brothers in Christ,
God chose the poor of the world
to be heirs of the commonwealth of justice and peace.
It is only by recognising our poverty
that we may enjoy our inheritance.
We have confessed our sin.
Attend to the words of life
and remember the commandment
to do likewise for others.
Father of Jesus, Creator of all,
your name is beyond the greatest wealth;
your favour, more generous than the richest benefactor’s.
You sow justice; we plant injustice.
You share bread; we hoard crumbs.
You bless the least; we vie for their place in your realm.
Forgive our wickedness and greed.
Forgive our meanness of spirit and hardness of heart.
Teach us again your plan for reconciliation
and challenge us when we depart from it.
Call us to trust again in your ways;
and to seek the better part,
through Jesus Christ, your beloved Child,
and our Saviour. Amen.
PREFACE TO DECLARATION OF FORGIVENESS
Listen, sisters and brothers in Christ,
God chose the poor of the world
to be heirs of the commonwealth of justice and peace.
It is only by recognising our poverty
that we may enjoy our inheritance.
We have confessed our sin.
Attend to the words of life
and remember the commandment
to do likewise for others.
Call to Worship
Those who trust in God are like Kosciusko—
the pinnacle of the Australian alps.
It does not move, but stands firm.
The great dividing range surrounds it
as God surrounds those who seek justice.
Blessed is the God whom we honour—
bringer of peace and hope;
the One who favours the poor.
We offer our praise, our God,
Father of the oppressed.
the pinnacle of the Australian alps.
It does not move, but stands firm.
The great dividing range surrounds it
as God surrounds those who seek justice.
Blessed is the God whom we honour—
bringer of peace and hope;
the One who favours the poor.
We offer our praise, our God,
Father of the oppressed.
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