These Stones Would Shout Out!

Take your stone in your hands.

What you hold in your hand is as old as you and older; as old as your name, your language, your culture and older; as old as your nation, your race, the species homo sapien, the human genus and older; as old as the soil, as the mountains, as the rivers, as the sea and older; as old as the earth, as the sun and the moon and the stars; but younger than God.

God made the stone—made it and mean its colour, its contours, its journey from within the earth to above it.

God made the stone—and had earth never revealed it, and you never held it, it would still bear witness to God: to God’s deep intention to make the world, to mean the world, to want the world, to wean the world from its dependence in order to be in authentic relationship with God.

It would still bear witness to God’s deep intention to walk the world and hold in his hand something of what you now hold in yours, for the sake of being in relationship with us, with the earth, with the universe, with the very creation which God made.

The building block that was rejected
became the cornerstone of a whole new world.

Feel the stone in your hands.

This is the stone the builders rejected. This is the earth that we have trampled. This is the Creation of which we are a part; and yet which we have forsaken.
Jesus walked through the wilderness, through a dry place. He was thirsty and hungry an all alone. As he picked up a stone, a voice said, “Turn it into bread.” And he could have… but he let the stone be a stone.

This is the stone the builders rejected. This is the earth that we have trampled. This is the Creation of which we are a part; and yet which we have forsaken.

Jesus came to his own, but his own would not receive him. We heard him speak, hear him open the scriptures, but would not listen. “Enough! Enough!” we cried and took him to a hill with stones in our hands.

This is the stone the builders rejected. This is the earth that we have trampled. This is the Creation of which we are a part; and yet which we have forsaken.

Jesus called those who had no calling. He named those who had no name. “What you didn’t manage with fish, you’ll do with people,” he said. “They call you simple Simon, but I name you Peter, the rock… and on the likes of you, I’ll build my assembly, my people, my church.

This is the stone the builders rejected. This is the earth that we have trampled. This is the Creation of which we are a part; and yet which we have forsaken.

Jesus bent down to touch the ground, to draw in the sand, to cradle children, to kneel with those whom we despised. “Throw your stones,” he said. “Throw them at her; but let the flawless fling theirs first.” And they went way with stones in their hands.

This is the stone the builders rejected. This is the earth that we have trampled. This is the Creation of which we are a part; and yet which we have forsaken.

Jesus was edged out of the world, onto a cross, into a tomb. And a stone was stationed at the entrance to keep the dead away from the living. And now we wait for the stone to be rolled away; for death to be destroyed; and for the first fruits of the new creation to emerge.

The building block that was rejected
became the cornerstone of a whole new world.

Attend to the stone in your hands.

“Come,” says God, “you are living stones. You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a new creation, a holy nation.”

“But we are just stones, O God—stones for kicking and stones for throwing and stones for hitting and stones for stacking and stones for filling the cracks of a broken earth.”

“Come,” says God, “you are living stones. You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a new creation, a holy nation.”

“But we are just stones, O God—dumb, mute stones who just sit here being stones, silently, passively, stonily.”

“Come,” says God, “you are living stones. You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a new creation, a holy nation.”

“But we are just stones… we are just stones…”

The building block that was rejected
became the cornerstone of a whole new world.

Listen to the stone in your hand.

“Teacher, order your disciples to stop,” some Pharisees called from the crowd. He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” “If these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

So, O God, if we are just stones, sitting stonily in silence. What is it that the real stones say? What hosannas do they sing or blessings do they call upon you?

“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord.” It’s a funny sort of king that rides a donkey and enters a city without an army. It’s a funny sort of king who thinks that stones might speak and peace will change the world. It’s a funny sort of king that builds new nations on tired old rocks, and is prepared to feel a stone strike before allowing one to be thrown.

What is it that the stones would say of you? Those stones older than us or our species; those stones as old as the stars, but younger than you—would they speak to us of star dust, or tell us of the very act of creation itself? Would they speak to us of God who made the world in order to love; of a world who rejected God and in rejecting God, rejected itself as beloved creature of God? Would they speak of a God who entered the world God created—a God who became dust for the sake of showing us the value of dust? A God who reminds us that we are dust of the earth and dust of the stars, God’s breath and God’s being? Do these stones even need to speak to remind us that nothing is lost on the breath of God; and that everything has its season and its purpose? Do these stones simply by their being stones tell us of the world which God made, which God loves and which God longs to draw into a parental embrace?

The whole of creation groans in waiting for the coming fulfilment of your realm, O God. It does not speak, but, if we listen, we just may discover the story of your world and our salvation.

The building block that was rejected
became the cornerstone of a whole new world.

Adapted and expanded from “Building Block” by Noel Paul Stookey © 1977 Public Domain Foundation Inc. and “Three Stone Meditations” by John L. Bell from He Was In The World: Meditations for Public Worship (Wild Goose Resource Group, Iona Community, 1995), pp. 92-96.

Stewardship

A costly jar of ointment “wasted”; a jealous disciple mouthing words of justice to demean another follower of Jesus; a rebuke from Jesus disclosing the inevitable end of his journey towards Jerusalem—this week’s Gospel is action-packed. And it raises some interesting questions for our discipleship.

What do we owe to God and how do we honour God? When is the gift of a costly jar of ointment too much and when too little? In what ways do we use the right words to do the wrong things—to belittle and demean others? How do we manage the resources we have for the sake of God’s world and God’s realm?

From a Christian perspective, we owe God everything. God is Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. But that doesn’t mean that putting everything in the church offering plate and not having enough to look after ourselves and our families is the right thing. Rather, we are faced with the difficult day-to-day decisions of using our resources wisely.

The story of Mary anointing Jesus for burial confronts us with the question of stewardship. The question of Judas to Jesus confronts us with the issue of stewardship. And maybe, the story is pointing us towards examining our motives, our dispositions, our attitudes in making those everyday decisions about our resources. It is after all Lent, a time for self-examination.

If the way we use our money, our time, our gifts is about trying to demonstrate how good, how worthy, how righteous we are, then perhaps no matter what we give, it’s a waste. If the way we use our money, our time, our gifts is about honouring God and seeking to participate in God’s mission in the world, then maybe, whatever we do with our resources is pure gift—in the way that the life, death and resurrection of Jesus’ is pure gift to us.

Of course, that doesn’t make things easier—because using our resources wisely isn’t then about how much we give or do; it’s not about strict formulas such as tithes. Rather, it’s about continually seeking to be open to God’s purpose and God’s direction in our world. Sometimes, the costly gift of a jar of ointment in preparation for the burial of the Christ is the best gift we can give.

No-one Left Behind

The Parable of the Prodigal Son—it’s so familiar; is there anything new that we might draw from this well-known story? Is there any insight that might break through our lethargy and detachment to call us again to turn towards the God whose truth we believe is held within it.

After all, isn’t the parable just about the way humanity walks away from God, taking with us all our inheritance as God’s creation, only to squander it, and when we’ve exhausted that inheritance and ourselves, we turn back to lay ourselves on God’s mercy in order to be restored? Isn’t just reminding us that we don’t appreciate the inheritance that we have, but that God will always welcome us home when we come to our senses? And those of us who don’t wander and squander must be the elder brother, jealous and vindictive, unaware of the inheritance we enjoy because we’ve never known what it was to lose it. Isn’t it just another parable about God’s great mercy—just like the parable of the fig tree we had last week. And that’s a good orthodox, Christian reading, and an important reminder about the nature of God but it’s not the only way of reading the story. It’s not the only way of reading the story.

Even Karl Barth, the great Swiss Reformed theologian from the middle of the 20th century, thought so. In his magnus opum, his great work, the Church Dogmatics, Karl Barth, uses the story of the Prodigal Son to unpack the doctrine of reconciliation—the understanding of the work of Christ. And in that unpacking, the Prodigal Son is understood by Barth, not as humanity but as Christ. Barth writes:

That Jesus Christ is very God is shown in His way into the far country in which He the Lord became a servant. For in the majesty of the true God it happened that the eternal Son of the eternal Father became obedient by offering and humbling Himself to be the brother of man, to take His place with the transgressor, to judge him by judging Himself and dying in his place. But God the Father raised Him from the dead, and in so doing recognised and gave effect to His death and passion as a satisfaction made for us, as our conversion to God, and therefore as our redemption from death to life (Ch. XIV, Section 59, Abstract).

Jesus as the Prodigal Son—that doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense! Isn’t the Prodigal, the disparate, dissolute, desperate wanderer, squandering his inheritance?

For Barth, the Parable of the Prodigal Son is the story of the Son of God in all his inheritance entering into our world, God’s creation, and being in utter solidarity with us—fully divine, fully human. Jesus entered into our depravity in order that he might bring us back with him into the Father’s estate. For Barth, the parable is about Jesus the Judge entering into our Judgement in order that we might receive God’s mercy. Barth, in the tradition of Anselm of Canterbury from the Middle Ages and much of the Reformed and Evangelical traditions since the Reformation, Barth is following the line of thinking about the doctrine of reconciliation, the doctrine of atonement, the way to understand what Jesus achieves for us which has been called the objective or substitutionary or satisfaction theory of the atonement. In this theory, God’s judgment on humankind must have justice, must have satisfaction, and Jesus takes our place in receiving that judgement. Maybe that’s how some of you understand the way redemption or reconciliation or atonement is achieved between God and humanity. It’s an orthodox, Christian way of understanding what it is that God has done for us in Christ; but it is not the only way of understanding the mystery of God’s reconciliation with humankind. Because while all Christians agree that God saves, reconciles, redeems our world through Jesus, we do not all agree on how that happens. We don’t all agree on the mechanism of the atonement. While all Christians agree the God reconciles the whole Creation with God’s self, we do not all agree on how that happens.

But back to the Parable of the Prodigal Son, and let’s, for interest sake, and because we just might learn something, let’s continue with reading it at least partially through Barth’s lens. Let’s think about the Prodigal as Christ.

Firstly, we understand that Jesus is fully God. He carries the full inheritance of the divine. He is not a lesser part of God or a lesser being. Secondly, we understand that as the fullness of God, Christ enters Creation—a far country to the divine. The Creator enters Creation receiving the hospitality of the world—the hospitality of its citizens and its pigs. Think about the stories of Jesus being judged because he shared food with sinners, because he was seen as a drunkard and a glutton, because he was found in the company of lepers and prostitutes, the outcast. Jesus lived the life of humanity. He knew our joys and our pain; lived our life and died our death. Nothing that we know as humans was Jesus shielded from. He entered fully into humanity. He was fully human. And in this fullness of humanity, he experiences the desolation of our separation from God. Think of his cry on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”—a recitation from the Psalms. But the worst of human experience cannot defeat the Christ, for he is not separate from God, he is God. And having experienced all that is to be human, he turns his face towards God and returns to his estate, taking us with him and thereby reconciling the whole of creation with God. Having experienced all that is to be human, he turns his face towards God and returns to his estate, taking us with him and thereby reconciling the whole of creation with God.

The story is a story of reconciliation—that is clear—and like the parable of the fig tree, we will discover that that message of reconciliation guides us in our playing with the parable and confirms for us the possibilities that our play provokes.
In the particular reading of the parable that I’ve just given you, the person and work of Christ are very closely associated. The very act of incarnation is part of the process of reconciliation. This was important for Karl Barth too; and it is an important part of Christian theologians trying to think through just what’s going on in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus; but, in the end, understanding the mechanism of reconciliation is not very important. Rather accepting God’s love, God’s mercy and the reconciliation offered to us is the key. For the Son did journey to a far country, and in the end, it was all for us, and so no-one might be left behind.

Scripture

Scripture is the most important of the 4 sources for thinking theologically. (Remember that the 4 sources are Scripture, Tradition, Reason and Experience.) However, we never actually use Scripture by itself. Whenever we approach Scripture, we are already using Reason to read and interpret them, not to mention the kind of historical information that we now rely on in trying to understand Scripture. Our context (part of the general category of Experience) affects our interpretations of Scripture also. And the Christian Tradition, based in Scripture, provides a framework through which we approach Scripture too. The Basis of Union talks about the interaction of the theological sources in this way:

The Uniting Church acknowledges that God has never left the Church without faithful and scholarly interpreters of Scripture, or without those who have reflected deeply upon, and acted trustingly in obedience to, God’s living Word. In particular the Uniting Church enters into the inheritance of literary, historical and scientific enquiry which has characterised recent centuries, and gives thanks for the knowledge of God’s ways with humanity which are open to an informed faith. The Uniting Church lives within a world-wide fellowship of Churches in which it will learn to sharpen its understanding of the will and purpose of God by contact with contemporary thought. Within that fellowship the Uniting Church also stands in relation to contemporary societies in ways which will help it to understand its own nature and mission. The Uniting Church thanks God for the continuing witness and service of evangelist, of scholar, of prophet and of martyr. It prays that it may be ready when occasion demands to confess the Lord in fresh words and deeds (Para. 11).

God’s Word is God’s very action and presence in the world. Jesus is the very Word of God (see John 1). Through the Scriptures, we encounter God’s Word made known to us in Jesus. Through honest and authentic engagement with the Scriptures, we discover something of God’s Word for our lives today.

Though the fig tree does not...

Parables are stories with illusive meanings. They’re enigmatic, mystifying and… well… parabolic. It depends where you throw light on them from as to what they will reflect back to you. It depends how you look at them as to what reflection you will see.

And for that reason, we can come to the parables of Jesus thinking that we know what they’re all about and looking for simple messages. Parables are often treated as mere morality tales—stories that give clear directions as to what is right and what is wrong, but that is seldom the case, because parables are much deeper than simple morality tales. If they were just morality tales, they would be much easier to understand. But they’re not.

Parables are extended metaphors, indeed multi-faceted metaphors, narratives full of metaphors which are set in relationship to one another. And indeed, it does depend on how you enter into the parable, via which metaphor, what character, or aspect, as to what you gain from the interaction. And that makes them all the more intriguing because they are full of possibilities and potential.

Parables, by their very nature, have the capacity to ask deep questions of us, to open up unexpected issues, to set our minds thinking, our hearts feeling and our spirits searching for truth—truth that is beyond any one interpretation of the parable and certainly beyond any logical treatise or scientific treatise. Parables tell truth without ever nailing it down into single clauses or inflexible, rigid rules. They reflect the complex depth of real truth with all its mystery and puzzle.
So we come to our parable for today—the parable of the fig tree and the gardener who wins its reprieve. And if there ever was an enigmatic parable, it’s this one.

Someone had a fig tree growing in their vineyard and so naturally, they went looking for figs on it but there were none. So the owner of the vineyard says to a worker, "For three years, I have been coming here looking for figs from this fig-tree and I still haven't found any. Cut it down! It's only taking up space and using up the goodness of the soil!" But the worker says, "Just give it one more year. I will take care of it, working the soil and feeding it with fertilizer. If it bears figs in a year, so much the better and if it doesn't, then you can cut it down." (Luke 13:6-9 T.E.V. Adapted)

Now before we go any further let's take a little closer look. We have a fig tree but not in an orchard, in a vineyard, a place for growing grape vines, not for fig trees. The story does not say how it is that this fig tree has come there nor why it is that it was not pulled out when it first appeared except that the owner obviously hoped that it would bear fruit. But it sounds like the gardener hasn’t been paying it a lot of attention; and why would that gardener have done so, because it is a fig tree, not a grapevine.

The story doesn’t say how long the fig tree had been there, just that the owner had been looking for fruit on it for three years. They story doesn’t say whether the fig tree is mature enough to bear fruit or whether it still needs that year that the gardener gains for it. We have some very sketchy details—and perhaps that makes interpreting the parable all the more fun.

We do know that the story is told in a context. There has been some discussion about acts of terror and disaster and the possibility that they are punishments for wrongdoing. And, in that discussion, Jesus has reminded his conversation partners that it is not anyone else’s repentance that they should be concerned with, but they’re own. As they have looked to blame others, they should be wary of their own responsibility.

And then we have the parable of the fig tree…

Now the key to interpreting parables may often be to ask questions of the story and particularly questions about the characters and who or what they represent. And since these stories are about theological truth, some good questions to ask of parables are questions like: “Who in this parable is like God?” “Who is like Jesus?” “Who are we like?” But be careful, there’s often more than one answer; and no one answer will exhaust the truth that the parable has to teach us. It is not only the story’s context, but our context that will govern what the parable has to say to us at any particular point in time. And no particular interpretation at any particular time will be definitive, be complete, be unable to be extended by other readings at other times.

We haven’t quite got to that parable of the fig tree yet, but we’re going to look at it now. So let’s ask some of our questions and test out some different ways of reading this peculiar parable today.

Traditionally, in this story, God would have been seen as the vineyard owner, the one who seeks fruit from the fig tree but does not find it. That seems to fit in perfectly with the context of the story and the discussion with those seeking to cast blame. In this reading, the parable may be a warning about a God who only has so much patience for the waywardness of a sinful people. Turn from you sins or else! Or else I will have you cut down! If God is the vineyard owner, then the fig tree is perhaps a sinful humanity who will not bear fruit and the gardener, the Christ, who intercedes on behalf of the people and gains their reprieve. In this reading, the parable reminds us not to blame others, or to think that we can earn mercy for ourselves; but to trust in the work of Christ and allow ourselves to bear fruit. And that is a good and orthodox Christian interpretation, but it is not the only way of approaching the parable; and that that’s the beauty of parables. So let’s try some other readings out too.

Let’s approach the story by reversing the characters. What happens if we reverse the characters and think about not the vineyard owner, but the fig tree as God; and as humanity as the vineyard owner. The very human vineyard owner does not understand the ways of the ways of the fig tree; indeed, would prefer that the fig tree was cut down if it does not perform to expectations. It sounds an awful lot like the way we humans approach God—do this or else; this is what we expect and if you don’t come up with the goods, then we won’t believe in you.

In this reading the story, Christ is still the vineyard worker—the one who pleads with the vineyard owner to understand the ways of the fig tree and to offer it that which is due (the necessary care and protection that it requires; the necessary worship that is due to God). This reading too fits with the context of the passage and the conversation between Jesus and the people who do not understand the ways of God and who make judgements on their brothers and sisters as to their faith or lack of it.

And still we have not exhausted all the possible ways of reading the story. This time suppose we try looking at the parable thinking about the fig tree as Christ. The fig tree is planted in a place where it seems out of place. It’s been around for three years and still it has not borne the fruit which it will bear. God the gardener knows that the tree is not yet ready to bear that fruit, and pleads with the master of the place (humanity) to give the tree and little more time so that its purpose might be revealed. The gardener sustains and support the fig tree, Christ, as the time to bear fruit comes closer. Again, this reading fits the context of the passage. When the fig tree bears fruit, God's understanding of the world will be revealed to a people who now persist in concerning themselves with the adequacies and inadequacies of their brothers and sisters.

And still we have not exhausted the possible readings. Both the vineyard owner and the gardener may be seen as two different sides of God. The fig tree is humanity and the story becomes one of God struggling within God's self over the fate of a people are unable to cope with their situation in the middle of the vineyard. And it is God’s mercy that wins out. And yet again, this reading fits with the context of the passage where people have been struggling to find meaning in their existence and answers to their questions about the relevance of religious rituals and sacrifices, and the reason for terror and disaster.

In all of these readings, the mercy of God comes to the fore; and the blame game of humanity is shown to be the empty ritual that it is. In all of these readings, humanity is asked to change its mind, to repent, to turn around, and to discover the things of God—love and mercy, hope, new life, and a continuing second chance for all.

On Being Fruitful

In the Gospel reading for Lent 3 this year (Luke 13:1-9), Jesus tells a parable about a fig tree that has not borne fruit. The message of the parable is about the mercy of God even when that mercy is not deserved. Nevertheless, the parable raises the question about whether or not we are bearing fruit in our lives as followers of Jesus. In what ways does our lifestyle and practice embody Christ? When we fail in our efforts, are we ready to cut the tree down or do we find that God’s mercy is for us as well as for others?

The first paragraph of the Basis of Union reminds us that the churches which entered into the Uniting Church were “seeking to bear witness to that unity which is both Christ’s gift and will for the Church”. It acknowledges “God’s gifts of grace to each of them in years past” and the fact “that none of them has responded to God’s love with a full obedience”. Nevertheless, in entering into union, they looked “for a continuing renewal in which God will use their common worship, witness and service to set forth the word of salvation for all people”.

Christian people usually work hard to worship, witness to and serve God; but sometimes, the work gets in the way. All too readily our human limitations send us to recriminations and self-loathing. Recognising our humanity before God is not about telling ourselves our bad we are; but about reminding ourselves how good and gracious God is.

Para. 1 of the Basis of Union ends:

To this end they declare their readiness to go forward together in sole loyalty to Christ the living Head of the Church; they remain open to constant reform under his Word; and they seek a wider unity in the power of the Holy Spirit. In this union these Churches commit their members to acknowledge one another in love and joy as believers in our Lord Jesus Christ, to hear anew the commission of the Risen Lord to make disciples of all nations, and daily to seek to obey his will. In entering into this union the Churches concerned are mindful that the Church of God is committed to serve the world for which Christ died, and that it awaits with hope the day of the Lord Jesus Christ on which it will be clear that the kingdom of this world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of the Christ, who shall reign for ever and ever.

Despite and because of who we are, we are called to be the people of God where we are—sinking down roots and stretching our branches to the sky in preparation for the fruit which will come in God’s good time.