Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Call to Worship

Winter has gone!
The fruit trees are blossoming
and the wattle is in flower.
We will arise and praise the one
who brings forth the fruit of creation.

Arise beloved, and give thanks to our God:
Justice and grace are the gifts of God
for the people of God.

Let us celebrate the one who pours forth joy.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

The Dwelling Place of God

The temple is finished. The Ark of the Covenant has been installed. The promise made by God to David has been fulfilled. David’s son, Solomon stands in the midst of the temple, “before the altar of the Lord” and offers praise and thanks, confession and supplication to God. At the culmination of such a momentous project, a project denied by God to David, but undertaken by Solomon on David’s throne, at the end of this journey of planning and construction, political manoeuvring and military intrigue, Solomon stands before God and says: “O Adonai, God of Israel, there is no God like you.” “O Adonai, God of Israel, there is no God like you.” And in this address, the commencement of a very, very long prayer, we hear not just the relief of Solomon in having achieved this goal, not just the pride of a son who has achieved his father’s greatest wish, but we hear someone who recognises who he is before God and who his people are, and just how far they still have to go.

The people of Israel are the people chosen by God to be a light to the nations. Called out of their ancestral home through Abraham and Sarah, they were forged as a people in the experience of slavery. Led forth from slavery by Moses, Aaron and Miriam, they weren’t content with the rule of God and the judges of God, but called for a king and received one in David. These are a people who have never been sure that they wanted, really wanted; and never really quite understood what was required for them to follow their vocation, to follow the calling of God. These are the people who will happily go their own way in spite of the guidance and warnings of the Law and the prophets. These are a people who need to be constantly reminded of the ways of God and of God’s calling on their lives. “O Adonai, God of Israel, there is no God like you.” “You are our God and we are your people—for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and health—you are our God and you have stood by us, despite us. The promise you made to David has been fulfilled. Your house has been built, and you have assured your people of a stable government… if…”

And there’s the rub. “If…” “If only your children [the children of David, the people of God, the nation of Israel, if only they] look to their way, to walk before me [to walk before God] as you [as David] … walked before [God].” “If…” This moment is the high point of Solomon’s reign and right there in the midst of it is the reminder that Solomon is vulnerable, Solomon has his own vocation, and Solomon too may fail to live up to it. “If…”

“O Adonai, God of Israel, there is no God like you.” “But you do not really need this house—we need it—we need it to remind us who you are and who we are and what it is we are called to be and do.” “Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain [God], much less [the] house that [Solomon has] built!” This house is not for God, it is for the people of God who need to remember their history, who need to remember their calling, who need to remember their hope in the God who cannot be contained in an Ark, or a cloud, or bricks and mortar, or heaven, or the highest heaven.

And yet in this house, Solomon knows what he must do—he must honour God, and he must pray for the people—he must pray for the people of Israel—a people who will continue to walk away from God despite the house and despite their history—a people who will still sin against their neighbours even when they do not mean it—but not just for them. Solomon must also pray for those not of the nation of Israel who honour God even when the chosen people do not—people who turn to God because they recognise who God is and seek to honour God.

Well may Solomon have prayed, because nothing was going to change the one small fact of the “if…”—“if the people of God continue to walk in God’s ways”; “if the people of God continue to walk in God’s ways”. The promise is conditional and the people will not live up to the conditions. This one grand, glorious moment is simply the warning bell for the end, the fast approaching denouement where the people of Israel are scattered and the temple of God is destroyed not once but twice under successive conquering powers.

Of course, it’s not all poor Israel—they engaged in a fair bit of conquering themselves to get to this glorious moment—and, saving Solomon’s wisdom and David’s bravery, the kings of Israel weren’t exactly upstanding people of their time. But here in the temple, it’s easy to think that the world will be different from now on—that keeping the conditions of God’s covenant won’t be very hard after all—since after all, we now have the temple of God.

“O Adonai, God of Israel, there is no God like you.” “Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that [Solomon has] built!”

Listening now with our ears steeped in the Christian story though, we begin to hear some threads that emerge later in the story of Christ. “But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house…” “But will God indeed dwell on the earth?” Against the background of the Christian story, we hear this question filled with a sense of irony; and we know that the answer is ambiguous. No, of course God is not contained by God’s own creation. No, of course God does not condescend to dwell within what God has made—burning bushes, fiery and cloudy pillars and grand temples aside—God does not dwell on the earth. And yet, yes, of course God has indeed dwelt on the earth. God indeed has allowed God’s very self to be contained within the parameters of creation and of history. God indeed has lived a human life and died a human death in Jesus. And the covenant enacted with humanity solely through that humble action of God does not have any “ifs”. It is unconditional. It is the covenant of the unconditional love of God despite who we are, despite what we do, despite what we don’t intend to do—God loves God’s creation; God loves us.

And in this realisation, we too find ourselves standing before God with nothing left to do but to praise and give thanks, to confess our sin and to offer our prayers up to God for all God’s people. But our responsibility does not end there, just as Solomon’s did not end with the completion of the temple.

Everything we have is a gift from God. What we choose to do with that gift is ours. The 2nd Report of the Joint Commission on Church Union reminded the churches seeking to unite that “The Church [that’s all of us, the people of God, the body of Christ, the communion of the Spirit, the Church] fulfils [its] call to be ‘a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a dedicated nation, and a people claimed by God…’, when [it] is a missionary Church proclaiming the triumphs of God” not of ourselves. And God’s triumph comes not in the inhabiting of great temples or in the marvellous accomplishments of humanity. God’s triumph comes in weakness and humility in the servant Lordship of Jesus who “chose to stake his faith in the hidden power of [God’s realm], and revealed the ultimate victory of that hidden power in his death on the cross. When “The Church … is the Church, [it] crosses the boundaries of history—the boundaries of culture, race, nation—to reveal the healing and uniting power of God’s self-giving” because God’s reconciliation with all creation is accomplished in Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.” When we “grasp… as [our] own what [we are] called to receive as a gift to be used in the service of others”, we miss the point. Seeking our own glorification will never get us or anyone else closer to God. Making ourselves look good will never be a motivation for achieving that very thing in God’s scheme of things. It didn’t work for David the great King; it didn’t work for Solomon who built the great temple; and it will never work for us. Because it’s never been about having a great reputation or doing big things, it’s always been about following the one who “chose to reveal his lordship through becoming a servant, and identifying himself with [humanity] in … lostness, … sinfulness, … disobedience.” And this is our vocation now: to “carry out [our] mission [the mission of the Church, the people of God] by assuming” the form of a servant—the servant Lord. And we begin, when we turn to God to praise, to give thanks, to confess and to pray for all God’s people.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Affirmation of Faith

We dwell in God,
who brought forth creation
and the dawning of time,
who journeyed with a people
chosen from among the nations
to proclaim God’s presence.

God dwells with us
as the risen Christ,
the crucified, ascended One
who lived our life, died our death
knew our pain, shared our joy
and redeemed our humanity.

God dwells within us:
the Holy Spirit of life,
inspirer and invigorator,
soothing peace and fiery provocateur,
strengthening, sustaining, sanctifying
our frail mortal existence.

The dwelling place of God is our home.
Glory be to God: Source, Saviour and Spirit—
our welcoming host, our honoured guest,
and our faithful companion on the way.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

The Humility of Mission

As I was reflecting on the gathering of the Armidale Congregation on Sunday to consider continuing directions for our congregation, I came across this passage from one of the formative documents of the Uniting Church:

It cannot be emphasised too strongly that the Church exists to fulfil a mission. Just as God sent the Son and the Holy Spirit, so also the Church is sent into the world (John 17:8). The Church, when she is the Church, crosses the boundaries of history—the boundaries of culture, race, nation—to reveal the healing and uniting power of God’s self-giving (Matt. 28:18-20; Col. 3:11). The Church fulfils her call to be ‘a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a dedicated nation, and a people claimed by God for his own’, when she is a missionary Church proclaiming ‘the triumphs of him who has called you out of darkness into his marvellous light’ (1 Peter 2:9-10). Otherwise she falls back into sin by grasping as her own what she is called to receive as a gift to be used in the service of others. Christ exercised his Lordship through the way of humble condescension. He who could have called out legions of angels to defend his cause chose to stake his faith in the hidden power of the Father’s Kingdom, and revealed the ultimate victory of that hidden power in his death on the cross (Matt. 26:52-54). In his miracles he gave signs of the power of the Kingdom of God and, by implication, of his lordship over every aspect of the world; and yet he resolutely refused to use his power to establish an open mastery. He chose to reveal his lordship through becoming a servant, and identifying himself with [humanity] in … lostness, … sinfulness, … disobedience. It is in his servant that he discloses his omnipotence and glory. His greatest glory is seen in his stooping, his lordship in the love that serves. So also the Church must carry out her mission by assuming this servant form and as Christ wore the garb, spoke the language and lived within the social patterns of first-century Israel, so the Church must take on relevant forms in the particular circumstances of every age. (The Church: Its Nature, Order and Functioning, 2nd Report of the Joint Commission on Church Union, 1963).

This passage is firstly a call to humility in service. It reminds us that relevance is found in humble service and that victory is not found in competition, but in submission to the will of God and the way of Christ. It is often easy to think that we can find the right program, the correct strategy, the foolproof approach to filling our church, but our call is not to fill the church but to live for God’s realm. As we carefully consider our continuing life, let us firstly humble ourselves before God.

Friday, July 24, 2009

What says "Christian"?

What says “Christian”? We tend to think about the cross as the symbol of Christianity these days, but that was probably a late development in the church. The cross was such an ugly sign of horrific torture that it took some time to become “acceptable”.

The fish was probably a very early sign for Christians to identify themselves. Why? It is one of the continuing metaphors in the stories of Jesus. For example, in Mark 1:17, Jesus says to Simon and Andrew: “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” (NRSV)

Later, the acronym for the Greek word icthus (ἰχθύς) meaning “fish” came to be associated with the phrase “Jesus Christ, God’s son, Saviour” (Ἰησοῦς Χριστός, Θεοῦ Υἱός, Σωτήρ), Iēsous Khristos Theou (H)uios, Sōtēr.

Symbols are well and good, but what says “Christian”? In Acts 2:44-47, a description of the Christian community is given:
44All who believed were together and had all things in common; 45they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. 46Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, 47praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved. (NRSV)


From this text, descriptions of the “Christian Life” have been drawn. These descriptions usually include at least 4 elements:
1. Leitourgia (liturgy – the work of the people – worship)
2. Koinonia (community)
3. Diakonia (service)
4. Kerygma (proclamation – witness)
The Basis of Union of the Uniting Church uses the phrase “worship, witness and service”. Where do you find each of these elements of the Christian Life in your life and in the life of our community. What says “Christian” about our community of faith today?

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Reforming Inheritance

Jesus’ forebears in the Jewish faith were many. Some saw in him the great Elijah, the prophet who called the rulers to repentance in the face of their worship of other gods. Others saw Jesus as John the Baptist, a more recent prophet who also dared to take on the monarchy for lack of morality. The inheritance that people saw Jesus bearing says something about what they saw him doing and why. It also says something about where they saw him heading and how. Elijah may have been caught up into a whirlwind in a celestial chariot, but John the Baptist was beheaded by a king and his family who were afraid that John reminded the people of their defiance of God’s Law.

Heritage and inheritance are strange things. They have such a hold and yet they never completely define those who follow after. Sometimes the inheritance is well-used; sometimes it is wasted; sometimes it is misunderstood; and sometimes it is simply guarded and not used at all. The difficulty is, of course, in recognising what the real inheritance is and just how it might best be used. Remember from last week, that Jesus is precisely on that journey of discernment of the vocation that is his; and clearly others are looking on and wondering the same thing—Is he Elijah? Or John? He seems to be some kind of prophet, some kind of person of God!

There are people who look at the Christian church today and ask the very same questions, only often the assessment is not so positive—Are they some kind of crackpots? Or well-meaning do-gooders? They seem to think they’ve got something that’s unique to them—it sounds rather arrogant really! So what is our real inheritance and what is it that we wish to do with it—how do we want to pass it on?

In the Epistle reading for today, the Christian community is reminded of their inheritance as the followers of Christ. This inheritance is couched in quite convoluted sentence structure, but there’s definitely something there about salvation and redemption; and clearly the outcome of this inheritance is meant to be the praise of God.

The praise of God is at the heart of Christian vocation. We are called to honour the God who loves us, who comes to us in Christ, and who works in us by the power of the Holy Spirit. The Reformed tradition, whose influence we remember today as we celebrate John Calvin’s 500th birthday, has always been strong on this focus on the praise of God. In that tradition, “the chief end of [humanity]” is described as glorifying and enjoying God forever in one of its catechisms or teaching outlines of the Christian faith. The whole calling of God’s people is summed up in this simple clause—to glorify and enjoy God. But of course, it’s never that simple or is it?

There’s a Jewish folk story about the prophet Elijah and his friend, Rabbi Joshua ben Levi:
The rabbi was asked what favor he might wish. [He] answered only that he be able to join Elijah in his wanderings. Elijah granted his wish only if he refrained from asking any questions about any of the prophet’s actions. [The rabbi] agreed and they began their journey. The first place they came to was the house of an elderly couple who were so poor they had only one old cow. The old couple gave of their hospitality as best they could. The next morning, as the travelers left, Elijah prayed that the old cow would die and it did. The second place they came to was the home of a wealthy man. He had no patience for his visitors and chased them away with the admonition that they should get jobs and not beg from honest people. As they were leaving, they passed the man’s wall and saw that it was crumbling. Elijah prayed that the wall be repaired and it was so. Next, they came to a wealthy synagogue. They were allowed to spend the night with only the smallest of provisions. When they left, Elijah prayed that every member of the synagogue might become a leader.
Finally, they came to a very poor synagogue. Here they were treated with great courtesy and hospitality. When they left, Elijah prayed that God might give them a single wise leader. At this Rabbi Joshua could no longer hold back. He demanded of Elijah an explanation of his actions. At the house of the old couple, Elijah knew that the Angel of Death was coming for the old woman. So he prayed that God might have the angel take the cow instead. At the house of the wealthy man, there was a great treasure hidden in the crumbling wall. Elijah prayed that the wall be restored thus keeping the treasure away from the miser. The story ends with a moral: A synagogue with many leaders will be ruined by many arguments. A town with a single wise leader will be guided to success and prosperity. “Know then, that if [you see] an evil-doer prosper, it is not always [to] his advantage, and if a righteous [person] suffers need and distress, think not God is unjust.” (Ginzberg, Lewis. Legends of the Bible. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1956. p 599. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elijah)


Earlier in the service, I reminded you of the 4 great mantras of the Protestant Reformation: sola gratia (grace alone), sola fide (faith alone), sola Christi (Christ alone) and sola scriptura (scripture alone). It sounds all very simple doesn’t it? And yet it’s not. Those 4 simple mantras have justified extraordinary judgements upon ourselves and others made by individual would-be Christians as well as whole congregations of us. “Grace alone” has been used to let ourselves off the hook in taking part in God’s work for justice, peace and the integrity of creation. “Faith alone” has been used to demand acts of faith like acts of work from would-be converts and faithful Christians of longstanding. “Christ alone” has been used to disparage people of other faiths, and, at times in Christian history, to justify their destruction. And “Scripture alone” has been used to justify the taking of small pieces of the Bible to chastise and discriminate against others on the basis of so-called “biblical morality”.

Heritage and inheritance are strange things. They have such a hold and yet they never completely define those who follow after. Sometimes the inheritance is well-used; sometimes it is wasted; and sometimes it is simply guarded and not used at all. The difficulty is, of course, in recognising what the real inheritance is and just how it might best be used. Now in discerning that inheritance, remembering that for the Reformed tradition, the ultimate outcome of our heritage is the praise and glory of God just might give us a head start.

Affirming that our salvation comes to us because of God’s grace alone reminds us that we can do nothing to save ourselves. It reminds us that nothing we do can save us. And it reminds us that nothing that others do can separate them from God’s love and God’s mercy either. This affirmation reminds us that we are not the judges of our own salvation or anyone else’s. Judgement is God’s and God is a merciful and gracious judge. Surely in the face of such graciousness, our only response can be praise.

Affirming that we are connected with the good news of our salvation through faith alone reminds us that recognising and accepting God’s graciousness doesn’t require super-human effort from us. It doesn’t require us to do anything to receive God’s mercy, nor does it require of us any particular ability to spout correct doctrine or teaching word perfectly or to get every action right every time. Although good doctrine or teaching and good practice is important in trying to understand and follow God’s will, it isn’t the thing that connects us with God’s love. Rather, this affirmation reminds us that we simply have to put our trust in the promise of God’s grace, God’s love and God’s mercy. Surely in the face of such graciousness, our only response can be praise.

Affirming that we find salvation in and through Christ alone is not an excuse to disparage or vilify others. It is not a reason to coerce Christian practice; or even to despair over the numbers in the church. Rather, this affirmation reminds us that God’s graciousness has been profoundly and uniquely proclaimed in and through Christ, and that it is not our proclamation that saves the world. Christ alone embodies the fullness of God. Surely in the face of such graciousness, our only response can be praise.

Affirming that we find our faith and discover Christ in and through scripture alone does not mean that our faith and our experience of who God is, is confined to scripture, although it is the most important source for us in gaining access to the story of the Christ event. Sola scriptura does not mean that every word of scripture is inerrant. It is after all, the work of human hands, even if inspired by the human encounter with God. It doesn’t mean that we can use proof-texts from material out of cultures vastly different from our own to demand a particular way of operating in the world. And it doesn’t let us off the hook for doing the hard work of reading the scriptures in our contemporary context and being open to the work of the Spirit is discerning God’s message to us through the scripture for our time. This affirmation does remind us that we have a unique story about a unique event and that unique story-event is about God’s love, God’s grace and God’s mercy. Surely in the face of such graciousness, our only response can be praise.

Some of you know that my week has been filled with interactions with someone who has been treated very poorly by our society’s mental health system. This system can only see that person as someone who has a variety of issues—medical and otherwise; and it expects him to behave in particular ways in order to be able to negotiate a complex bureaucracy. Our inheritance in Christ is not like that and our interactions with other people cannot be like that for we understand that salvation, redemption, reconciliation, liberation comes to us sola gratia, sola fide, sola Christi and sola scriptura. Surely in the face of such graciousness, our only response can be praise.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Happy 500th Birthday John Calvin!

Five hundred years ago, on 10th July, in the small village of Noyon in France, John Calvin was born. He was raised in a strong Roman Catholic family to be a priest, leaving home at the age of 14 to study in Paris where he was exposed to ideas about reform in the church. Calvin did not invent the Reformation, but having discovered some of its fundamental principles in the writings of Martin Luther, he began to articulate these ideas in dynamic, practical and popular language.

Expelled from Catholic France, Calvin journeyed to Geneva where he firmly established a movement for reform which resulted in the legacy of that stream of Christianity known as the Reformed or Presbyterian stream: a heritage shared by The Uniting Church in Australia. Our theology and worship today is strongly influenced by that inheritance and the Reformation principles of sola Christi, sola gratia, sola fide, sola scriptura—Christ alone, grace alone, faith alone, scripture alone.

Calvin's primary work was pastoral, but he penned numerous tracts and his correspondence was profuse. His seminal work, Institutes of the Christian Religion, became the guiding light for many early Protestants as they exited both the Middle Ages and the Roman Catholic church. At his own request, Calvin was buried in an unmarked grave in Geneva's common cemetery to avoid idolatry.
(Adapted from a range of sources from http://www.calvin500.com and http://www.calvin09.org)

Calvin’s reformed church and theology influenced Scottish Christianity through John Knox and Andrew Melville. It is through this Scottish Reformed link that Presbyterianism came to Australia. In 1984, L. Farquhar Gunn, commenting on the Presbyterian heritage of the Uniting Church, noted that “the sovereignty of God and the sinfulness of [humanity]” was “the basic concept from which all else springs”:
Salvation is God’s free gift. It is God alone who bring rebellious [humanity] back to [God]. It is the Sovereign God, who takes the initiative in Jesus Christ, who does for us what we cannot do for ourselves—reconcile us to [God].
(Breward, Ian (ed.) 1984. The Future of Our Heritage. Uniting Church Historical Society (Victoria), p. 4.)