Looking for a Cataclysm!

Hey God! What do you think you are doing? Where are you? Why aren’t you here helping us out? Can’t you see what’s happening? The western world is in financial crisis. There are acts of terrorism everywhere. And we can’t even control domestic violence in this country, let alone the civil, religious and political violence elsewhere on the planet.

We thought we were doing so well. Didn’t everyone want to be like us? We had dreams: everyone can own a house and build a future and be somebody and be left alone. Everybody can have their 15 minutes of fame. We can all be on Big Brother or Australia’s Got Talent or Australian Idol. We can all have what we want. Sure we overlooked those that couldn’t, but please they didn’t really want it, did they?

Then all of a sudden, the rug is pulled out from under us. And we don’t know about our futures anymore and we worry about the futures of our children and our grandchildren. What are we going to live on in our retirements? What jobs are going to be available? How will we maintain our lifestyles, our security, our society? How do we even know that we’re going to be around tomorrow to enjoy what we have? How do we know that we’re safe?

So God, what do you think you’re doing? And just where are you? After all, it’s not as if you haven’t shown your face previously? It’s not as though you haven’t pulled out a miracle or two for the sake of your chosen people before. Remember the Exodus: what a show!

Come and sing unto the Lord for we have triumphed gloriously:
the horses and the riders are thrown into the sea!

Aren’t we half as good as them? Aren’t you just as interested in us as you were in them? Think about the stories of you meeting with people like Hagar and Moses and Elijah, Jacob and Mary and Joseph.

You know it’s all your fault that we’re in the state we’re in, don’t you? We wouldn’t have done any of it, if you’d been around. That’s why we’re in the hole we’re in. Don’t you know that our churches would be full and our communities would be vibrant, if only you would make yourself clearly known? But you, you hide, and we suffer. When you’re not there, we easily fall away and do everything but we should do. It’s all your fault. So, what are you going to do about it?

We’d like to see a cataclysm: a great outpouring of wrath where all the bad guys get their comeuppance. And, of course, we know who the bad guys are: everyone but us! It’s those people who gambled too much on the stock market; and those others who can see how wealthy the West is and who will do anything to be like us; and if they can’t be like us, they’ll pull us down. It’s those people who don’t like other people; it’s people who aren’t like us. So what are you going to do about?

We want a cataclysm. We were promised a cataclysm. The Gospel of Mark has you talking about a cataclysm; well at least your Child, Jesus, talking about a cataclysm, but if in seeing Jesus, we see you, it’s as good as you promising one (even after all that guff with Noah). Yes, you promised us a cataclysm; and we expected one; and we expected to be the onlookers to that glorious event, the ones saved from your wrath, watching the entertainment as you routed your enemies.

The communities behind the Gospel of Mark, of course, would have known about cataclysm. The power of Rome depended upon the might of its armies. The Markan collection is gathered together just about the time of the destruction of the Temple at Jerusalem. It was a cataclysm; and they so much wanted the end of the world and the beginning of the new one. Can we blame them? The hope was that, in the midst of such cataclysm, despite such cataclysm, even because of such cataclysm, the purposes of God would be revealed, more than be revealed, would be achieved; that God’s reign would finally come to fruition – the reign that had been glimpsed in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

Yes, that was it, the Christ event. That event was so cataclysmic that the people just knew that God was near: any threat to an imminent triumph must surely be a sign that God would be acting soon.

But, the Gospel of Mark is more circumspect. It isn’t about preparing for the end or predicting the future. It isn’t about watching for the unleashing of the wrath of God. It’s about preparing for God’s reign; it’s about living God’s reign; and that is entirely different.

The reign of God glimpsed, begun, inaugurated in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus is about anything but the wrath of God. This cataclysmic event which we now describe as incarnation, as embodiment, as being made flesh, is cataclysmic, but it’s not about the wrath of God destroying God’s enemies, nor is it about the destruction of the world in order to bring about a new one, rather it is about God entering the world which we already have, which has already been gifted to us by God. It is about the Creator entering the created order. And that is cataclysmic: the God who is above and beyond and around us is with us, becomes one of us – knows what it is to strive for something worthwhile in a state of limitation and to be defeated; knows what it is to give of oneself to something important to the point of the loss of self; knows what it is to know the depths of being human, of being created, of being mortal, frail, fragile, broken...

And in the process, asks us, not to expect God to be any different from who God is, and not to expect to watch the cataclysmic outcome of the wrath of God destroying God’s enemies (because there’s a fair chance we’d be among them if that happened), but to be about our living as the people of God in the hope that all things will work together for good because of this God who wants to be in relationship with us so much that nothing, nothing, not one thing will prevent God from doing just that.

And yet still we wait for the cataclysm. Surely, the financial world will realise its folly in the face of the current situation, and review its practices. Surely the great powers of this world will see what the problem is in the face of successive waves of terrorism and wipe it out. Surely, whatever we want can happen; and whatever we dream about can be.

But that is not the promise: it is not the promise given in and through Christ… no matter how hard we lament or confess or plead, no matter who we blame or what we look for. The promise to us in Christ is that God is the one who reigns, that God’s reign is both our gift and our calling, and that the God who gifts and calls us is primarily a God of love. In Christ, God has decisively acted to demonstrate utter acceptance of us, utter care for our wellbeing, utter willingness to be in relationship with us – the type of relationship that is not coersive, or abusive, or violent; the type of relationship that is offered, and not forced upon us; the type of relationship that invites our response and accepts whatever that response may be. That action is cataclysmic. It is cataclysmic because it everything (past, present and future) in its embrace as we discover that it is in and through the Christ event that we are who we are in relationship with God: accepted, loved and free.

Why would we look for more? In Christ, God became human. Not to erase our experience; not to obliterate our experience; nor even to over-write our experience; but to enter into it, to know us, to know it and still to be in relationship with us, still offering us relationship despite what we do, what we’ve done, who we are.

So we find ourselves in Advent, still waiting for the “consummation of all things which Christ will bring” to quote the Basis of Union; and still called both to prepare for that coming and to live in the reign already begun in Christ.

Come thou long-expected Jesus!
… Now thy gracious kingdom bring!

Shooting the Messenger?!

“Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.” (Matthew 25:21)

It sounds wonderful doesn’t it? And we can all imagine ourselves in this role: the good and trustworthy servant. Well done! After all haven’t we been faithful, haven’t we followed even when the going got tough! Haven’t we worshipped regularly, served diligently, lived our lives well as witnesses to Jesus?

Or perhaps we hear the alternate words more loudly: “As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 25:30)

And we beat our chests and cry mea culpa, “my fault, all my fault”—we are unworthy. Even though we have tried we have failed—God have mercy on us; God save us from what we imagine might be our reward.

The parable from Matthew’s Gospel which we’ve heard today (25:14-30) is generally read in one of those two ways. Either, we hear it as an ethical instruction (“Use your talents”) and we feel affirmed either in what we are doing or what we might do; or we hear it as an eschatological warning (“Be prepared for the end times!”) and we quake in our boots wondering whether we have been good enough.

But parables are enigmatic stories! They are meant to confront our comfort and our complacency, our well-worn ruts and usual patterns. They are meant to open our hearts, expand our vision, and loosen our limbs in the face of the unexpected nature of God’s realm.

So, noted New Testament and historical Jesus scholar, William Herzog invites us to hear this parable from a different perspective in his book, Parables as Subversive Speech (1994), and in the Seasons of the Spirit material for this week. He asks us to read it from the perspective of the oppressed; and he asks us to read it with a critical eye to the accepted capitalistic assumptions that underlie those two traditional interpretations. He asks us not to assume that the one “going on a journey” is God or Jesus. He asks us to explore the story a little more in the context of its time; and in the context of what we understand now about who God is and who we are before God. He asks us to find the confrontation for us now in this parable.

And I don’t know about you, but I simply want to jump at this chance, because I know that God who is shown to us in Jesus is not a harsh master, reaping where God did not sow or gathering where God did scatter seed. I know that God who is revealed to us in Jesus is not a master who expects us to be afraid, who keeps us quaking in our boots. I know that the God who entered our world in Jesus wants to be in relationship with us.

So let’s follow Herzog’s invitation for a while by beginning with the servants. Herzog argues that:

The head of an elite household could not stay home if he intended to protect his interests and expand his influence. Not only would he travel to his estates but he would travel abroad in hopes of increasing his investments, initiating new business schemes, building patron-client networks, currying favor with imperial overlords, or perhaps representing his city in some official capacity. For the accumulation of his wealth, the basis of his power and prestige, to continue in his absence, he needed to entrust important portions of it to his household retainers. These powerful figures were not household slaves (oiketeria), although they may have very well have been called [servants], (douloi) to emphasize their dependence on their patron-master.

…the phrase… “to each according to his ability” …[may also] be translated “to each according to his power,” where power indicates rank or status.

So, we have a group of three household retainers, who have different ranks or statuses in the household. The most important one is given the most money; and the least important, the least for which to be responsible.

So, just how did the master (and therefore his retainers) make their money? What was the business in which they were engaged? Herzog continues:

The elites used their wealth to make loans to peasant farmers so that the farmers could plant the crops. Interest rates were high; estimates range to 60 percent and perhaps as high as 200 percent for loans on crops. The purpose of making such loans was not so much to make a large profit, at least by the standards of the ancient world, but to accept land as collateral so that the elites could foreclose on their loans in years when the crops could not cover the incurred indebtedness. Had the servants sought a more lucrative return, they might have contracted with a small manufacturing operation specializing in luxury items, because the only “markets” in the ancient world were the urban elites; to make money meant pandering to their lust for luxury. By combining the talents they had received with the raw goods extracted from the peasants who were controlled by their household, the servants had the means necessary to increase wealth. But to do so, they had to exploit the peasant or village base of the household, the merchants with whom they entered into a common venture, or the peasants to whom they made loans.

That sounds like these servant-retainers were placed in a very difficult position—not really of the elite; neither were they of the village because they had to do the master’s business with the people of the village in an exploitative system. The parable does not dispute that this is a master who reaps where he has not ploughed and gathers where he has not sown. But we all have to make a living, right?!

The first two servants got to work “at once” and doubled their investment even though the master is gone for “a long time.” Their industry reveals the zeal with which they work the system to make a handsome turn for the master, but it also reflects their desire to use some portion of that endowment to feather their own nests. First things first: the owner’s initial investment must be secured, then doubled; after that, the retainers can make their profit.

The first two servants were sucked into the system; and probably they didn’t have much choice—they needed to feed and clothe themselves and their families; but the system was exploitative; and just because one is a victim of a system doesn’t mean that one might not also be a perpetrator, or at least a perpetuator.

The third servant is different; and clearly the third servant is the “focus of the parable”. Obviously, the third servant “enjoys [something of] the master’s trust”. He is given some responsibility thought not nearly so much as the other two. Perhaps it is a test of whether he can bear the weight of further responsibility. It is certainly a test of what he values; and where his loyalties lie.

Herzog suggests that there was “a repertoire of scenarios available to Jesus” for the work of the third servant. Jesus could have had the servant entering “into partnership with the poor”, an act “greater than… charity” “according to the rabbis” of which Jesus was one. Instead Jesus depicts the third servant burying “the talent in the ground”. By doing this, according to Herzog, the third servant “takes the best available precaution against theft and liability”. He makes sure the money is safe because he knows he has a hard taskmaster; and he does not enter into business which might exploit others.

And yet, even though the third servant takes the safe option with the master’s money (and the non-exploitative one), he does not take the safe option when the master confronts him. The third servant does not use the fancy language of the formal exchanges that have just happened between the master and the first two servants. The third servant tells it like it is. The actions of the third servant would have astonished Jesus hearers, just as they are astonishing to us now—doing nothing with the money entrusted; and then speaking forthrightly with the master. Herzog puts it this way:

The third retainer cuts through the mystifying rhetoric that has dominated the exchange between the elite and his first two retainers, and he identifies the aristocrat for what he is, strict, cruel, harsh, and merciless… he shames his master through his unexpected attack...

In his wrathful retort, the aristocrat [master does not deny]… the truth of the servant’s description, [perhaps] because he understands [this way of business as acceptable]… But the third servant has named the master and his occupation from another point of view. He [has] exposed the sham of what has transpired and places it under the unobstructed light of … prophetic judgment…

The master’s judgment is immediate. Having spoken the truth, the servant must be vilified, shamed, and humiliated so that his words will carry no weight.

“You wicked and lazy slave! You knew…”

For Herzog,

The hero of the parable is the third servant. By digging a hole and burying the aristocrat’s talent in the ground, he has taken it out of circulation. It cannot be used to dispossess more peasants from their lands through its dispersion in the form of usurious loans. By his actions, the third retainer dissociates himself from the system he has so cleverly exploited to attain his position of power and influence. No motivation is given or needs to be; a figure is known by his actions, not by his internal ruminations. When the hero speaks, he utters in the full light of day what he has learned in the dark; he reveals what has been covered beneath the public rhetoric of praise and promise, made known what has been hidden beneath the mystifications of the elites, proclaims clearly what has only been whispered among the elites and their retainers. The whistle-blower is no fool. He realizes that he will pay a price, but he has decided to accept the cost rather than continue to pursue his exploitive path.

“You wicked and lazy slave! You knew…”

The hero of the story is the third servant—the one who stands up to the domineering master who expected them to exploit their friends and neighbours for monetary gain. The parable becomes a story of the prophet who stands up to power and is punished for it; of a servant who shows to the truth to power and is destroyed for it.

In this reading of the story, the third servant is the Christ figure.

This reading of the story carries a different sort of warning—not an eschatological one, but a warning about expecting to be rewarded for following the way of Christ. Doing God’s will doesn’t mean riches and prosperity. It means standing against the corrupting influences of powerful people and the lure of money or prestige; and copping the results of that audacity.

So what does that mean for how we understand mission—God’s mission in the world and our part in it.

It doesn’t paint a picture of the grand success of wealth, popularity and status. It doesn’t affirm that if we do the right things we will get want we want. There is no prosperity gospel in this reading of the parable. Instead, it cautions us that the result of speaking the truth to power is destruction, but that is what we are called to do.

God’s mission in our world is not about the people of God being wealthy or popular or adulated. God’s mission in the world is about the reconciliation of Creation—all Creation. And that means the powerful need to be called to account; and the powerless given their status as the beloved children of God.

Through God’s graciousness, we are enfolded into God’s work in our world—it’s not our work, it’s God’s—but it’s not God’s if it’s not God’s—if it does not demonstrate the values of God’s realm—justice, peace, reconciliation.

How then do we assess our role in the mission of God? It’s got nothing to do with how many we are, how much we own, how popular we are, how much money we raise… It’s all about how we act in and for God’s world… and for that, we can never have any expectation of reward!

You wicked and lazy slaves! You know that there are those who reap where they do not plough, and gather where they do not sew; and you dare as God’s people to challenge that?

Reign of Christ Sunday

This is the last “feast day” of the Western liturgical (worship) calendar in the Revised Common Lectionary which the Uniting Church follows. It’s a fairly recent addition to Christian celebrations. Pope Pius XI instituted it in 1925 in the face of the rise of nationalism and secularism. It was included in Pope John XXIII’s revision of the church calendar in 1960; and in 1969, Pope Paul VI placed it on the last Sunday of the liturgical year—just before the beginning of the new year and Advent.

Through the liturgical renewal movement, spawned by the ecumenism of Vatican II, Protestant churches took it up and so it forms part of our lectionary (bible reading) cycle which is used by many mainline Protestant churches around the world.

It’s a radical feast that makes a definite political statement. Christ is the ruler of the cosmos; and the realm to which we owe our loyalty is God’s. Think of what is happening in Europe between the World Wars when the Pope instituted this feast. Think of what this feast was saying to would-be Kaisers, Kings and Presidents. This feast is a provocative one; and it should still be provocative to us. Where do our allegiances lie? What claims on our lives try to compete with the claims of God? Where are we being challenged to proclaim the reign of Christ?

In the Roman Catholic calendar, this feast is ranked with days like Pentecost and Trinity Sunday—days which make statements about important things that we believe: the work of the Spirit and the nature of God. So too, the Reign of Christ reminds us that the most important claim on our allegiance is that of the God revealed to us in Jesus Christ who claims us as the body of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.

White (or gold) is the colour for this important day in keeping with its focus on honouring the work of Christ. It’s the same colour that we use on Easter Sunday and Christmas Day!

I’m not sure what an appropriate greeting on this significant day might be; but perhaps part of the acclamations of praise from the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper might be suitable: “Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!”

What Does Mission Mean?

The parable from Matthew’s Gospel today (25:14-30) is generally read as either an eschatological warning (“Be prepared for the end times!”) or ethical instruction (“Use your talents”). William Herzog (Parables as Subversive Speech 1994) asks us to read it from the perspective of the poor.

In this reading, the hero of the story is the third servant—the one who stands up to the domineering master who expected them to exploit their friends and neighbours for monetary gain. The parable becomes a story of the prophet who stands up to power and is punished for it; of a servant who shows to the truth to power and is destroyed for it.

This reading of the story carries a different sort of warning—a warning about expecting to be rewarded for following the way of Christ. Doing God’s will means standing against the corrupting influences of powerful people and the lure of money or prestige; and copping the results of that audacity.

So what does that mean for how we understand mission?

It doesn’t paint a picture of the grand success of wealth, popularity and status. Instead, the result of speaking the truth to power is destruction.

God’s mission in our world is not about the people of God being wealthy or popular or adulated. God’s mission in the world is about the reconciliation of Creation—all Creation. And that means the powerful need to be called to account; and the powerless given their status as the beloved children of God.

Through God’s graciousness, we are enfolded into God’s work in our world—it’s not our work, it’s God’s—but it’s not God’s if it’s not God’s—if it does not demonstrate the values of God’s realm—justice, peace, reconciliation.

How then do we assess our role in the mission of God? It’s got nothing to do with how many we are, how much we own, how popular we are, how much money we raise… It’s all about how we act in and for God’s world… and for that, we can never have any expectation of reward!

You Have Made Us Your Friends!

We lift our eyes to you, O God:
it’s what seems natural to worship the great Creator,
the faraway God of our beginnings
and so that is true, but it is not all of you.

This tendency to look up searching for you
means that we miss a lot of who you are.
What would happen if we just looked a little sideways,
or perhaps down—would you become more real then?

Have mercy on us, God, we cry as your servants,
and so we are, but that is not all of us either;
and it is certainly not all that you would have us be.

In Jesus, you have called us friends.
In Jesus, you have made us look sideways to our neighbours
and to our enemies.
In Jesus, you have made us see you in humility
and even squalor.
Nothing is too depraved; no-one is too despised
to be your dwelling-place.

And when we look up, because of Jesus, we see,
not an arrogant god on a ridiculously majestic throne,
but a life given for our sake,
and the healing of your whole Creation.

Forgive us when we fail to speak truth to power
and miss out on authentic relationship with you.

Forgive us when we bemoan our own predicaments
while neglecting the plight of the oppressed.

Forgive us when we spend so much time congratulating ourselves that we are your servants,
that we completely miss your invitation to companionship.

When arrogance masks itself as humility,
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

When self-pity blinds us to real poverty,
Christ, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.

When fear pretends to be prudence,
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

Expand our vision of you to a 360⁰ view
that we might find ourselves in the sort of relationship with you
that you envisaged at our creation, right there in the beginning,
when you dared to make creatures who would speak with you.
Through the influence of your Spirit,
help us to be friends and partners, not slaves or crazed fans.
Work through us as your colleagues in creativity and compassion
for you have gifted us with your image,
and in Jesus, you have made us your friends. Amen.

Lift Your Eyes to God!

Lift your eyes to God:
in the highest heavens, we see your glory, Great Creator.
Reach out your hands to Jesus:
in the compassion of an enemy, we know your love, O Christ.
Feel the breathe of the Spirit:
in our sinews and in our souls, the Spirit whispers hope.
Let us worship the God who reigns,
by entering the depths of our humanity
and setting the humble soaring on the wings of the Spirit
for the sake of eternity.

What does it mean to be Christian?

Christians are people who have accepted God’s unconditional love for themselves and for the whole Creation; and, in response to God’s graciousness, have responded to Jesus’ call to costly discipleship. Through the sacrament of Baptism, they have been incorporated into Christ’s body, the Church; and seek to follow in the way of Christ every day of their lives.

Christians are not perfect. We have received the message of the Good News (gospel) in Jesus Christ that God loves us despite ourselves and God forgives us no matter what. All we need to do is to acknowledge our dependence on God, Holy Trinity, Creator, Christ and Spirit; and, in the power of the Holy Spirit seek to live out our new life in Christ everyday.

Christian discipleship calls us to love God with our whole hearts, minds, bodies and souls; and to love our neighbours (whether friends or strangers, allies or enemies) as we love ourselves.

The Christian Life is one of worship, witness and service. As the body of Christ, we worship God together and, through that worship, are formed as God’s people. In the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, we are fed as God’s people on the way.

In the whole of our lives, we are called to live out our identity as the people of God. Being Christian has implications for how we live in our families; the way we do our work; the issues that are important to us; our hopes for our children, our friends, our communities… Christians seek to live out the values of God’s realm—justice, peace, reconciliation and the integrity of Creation. The Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12 NRSV) have long been understood as a powerful and poetic statement of what that might mean:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you
and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.
Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven,
for in the same way they persecuted the prophets
who were before you.