Year C Ordinary Sunday 15—9.30 am, 11 July 2010—Armidale Uniting Church—Luke 10:25-37
The story of the Good Samaritan is a very familiar one. In fact, it’s so familiar that it’s a bit of a problem. It’s a problem because it’s a parable that has almost totally been reduced to a good moral story. So, it doesn’t quite have the impact of its original telling. It doesn’t quite have the impact of a story which challenges and turns upside down our understandings about life and about God. It’s a bit of a problem really.
But it’s not quite so much of a problem if we put the story back into its context. If we remember to read it in the context in which Luke puts this parable.
Someone well versed in the law of the Jews comes to Jesus to put him to the test. The lawyer’s intent is to check Jesus out. Perhaps he wants to catch Jesus out. Perhaps he wants to decide whether Jesus is someone who can be talked to and trusted, who can be regarded as really knowing the truth about life. For whatever reason, the lawyer is said to have asked of Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Now maybe the lawyer has come searching and the question is an honest one and maybe the lawyer is just trying to make a point about the orthodoxy, the rightness, of Jesus’ views. But for whatever reason, the question is asked and an answer is given but it’s a cautious one. In fact, it’s not an answer at all, it’s another question, “Well what does the law say about it?” And before the lawyer can blink, he is providing the answer to his question himself.
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself.”
And Jesus responds, “You have answered right; do this, and you will live.”
Now it looks just a little bit stupid to have turned up asking a question of Jesus, giving him the respect due a Rabbi if you provide the answer to the question yourself. The lawyer wants to engage Jesus in a rabbinic discussion. This exchange is too short. So to save face, to prove that his question is legitimate or to show that he is honestly seeking the way of God, the lawyer asks, “Well then, who is my neighbour?” And before we can blink, Jesus has told the story of a man who was going from Jerusalem to Jericho.
Now I guess that you know that it was a rough road. And I know you remember that the story says the man was robbed, beaten and left for dead, that a Levite passed by and a priest but neither stopped to see what was going on. And I know that you know that in Jesus’ story it was a Samaritan who offered assistance to the man, who took him to an inn and who paid the man’s keep until the Samaritan could return.
But the story isn’t really an answer, so far as answers go. Rather, it is another question, a challenge to the assumptions which are behind the lawyer’s approach to Jesus. Thus the story concludes, “Which of these three, do you think, proved neighbour to the man who fell among the robbers?” “Which of these three, do you think, proved neighbour to the man who fell among the robbers?”
And the lawyer jumps in quickly and says, “The one who showed mercy on him.” And Jesus says, “Go and do likewise.”
Now the question that the lawyer asks is “who is my neighbour?” and the question which Jesus asks is “who was neighbour to the man?” And it would be easy to say that Jesus is making a point to the lawyer about the fact that rather than determining who are the neighbours who should be loved, he should be making neighbours by loving those around him and especially those in great need. That would make the story of the Good Samaritan a nice little moral tale with a good and reasonable message—a reasonable exegesis.
Or we could listen more carefully to the question that the lawyer asks is “who is my neighbour?” and the question which Jesus asks is “who was neighbour to the man?” and think about the lawyer being cast not as Levite or priest or even Samaritan but as the beaten and half dead man on the road. And then our story just might become a parable which challenges and turns upside down the presuppositions which the lawyer has brought to this conversation with Jesus.
You see, the lawyer has come as one who thinks that he knows or that he can know truth, that he can obtain eternal life, on his own, by himself, by doing certain things. Love of God and of neighbour are works which will unlock the door to eternal life as soon as he can understand how to do them perfectly.
But Jesus says, “Uh uh, see yourself for a moment not as the one who brings all the resources, all the knowledge, all the ability. See yourself as the one who has been beaten and nearly destroyed, who needs love and friendship, especially the love of a neighbour. See yourself as one in a position not to be able to choose who is your neighbour. See yourself as one who is chosen as neighbour by another. And not by someone in your own class, but by someone whom you would consider not to be orthodox, not to be right, not to be worthy, not to be able to receive eternal life, a Samaritan.”
“Then, see your neighbour as the unexpected one who offers you life without strings attached. See neighbourliness as being founded in grace and not in pedantics or legalism. Now tell me this, which one of those three was the man’s neighbour?” Of course, it is obvious and the lawyer replies, “The one who showed mercy on him.” And Jesus says, “Go and do likewise.”
“Now that you know that being a neighbour is a precious gift, a gift of grace, not something to be argued and defined or clarified with a hundred minor rules. Now you know this, go and be a true neighbour. Now you know that being a neighbour is not patronisingly offering the crumbs from your table but truly loving and caring unconditionally and without thought of reward, go and do the same. Now that you know that being a neighbour is recognising the worth of those whom you would reject, go and do likewise.” And we can only presume that the lawyer did because that is where our story ends.
But the story doesn’t really end there because that story is our story too. And we could easily ask the question that the lawyer asked “Who is my neighbour?” and look for the same easy answers, instead of hearing the question that Jesus asks “Who was neighbour to that man?” and seeing ourselves as the ones in need of neighbourliness, and seeing those others whom we had thought to be neighbourly towards as the ones who just might offer themselves to us. And perhaps in turning our assumptions upside down, we might discover something about real neighbourliness.
In our world, those neighbours who offer us something of themselves are not always the people we would wish them to be. They come from different cultural backgrounds. They have different beliefs. They have different ideas about the world and how we should live in it. They have different ways of living. They come from far away like the many asylum seekers in our world. They may be as close as our children and grandchildren who live different lives in different ways from the lives we have lived. They may be the people we pass each day in the street or those we only see on the television or read about in the newspapers.
All of these people have lives of their own, unique gifts of their own, unique contributions to make to us. All of those people are our neighbours—not because they need us, but because we need them to make our lives whole. We need them to share with us their insights, their ideas, their hopes, their dreams, their visions. Because together, not alone, we are called to be neighbours, part of the promised realm of Christ which is already being fulfilled in our midst.
“Who is your neighbour?”
“Who has been neighbour to you?”
“Go then and do the same.”
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Prevenient Grace
Emmaus Walk--Northern Inland--July 2010
I vividly remember the time when I first became aware that God loved me, God loved me just for who I was, not for who I could be or I should be.
I was a fairly anxious child, always trying to get things right and to do the right thing. In hindsight, I know now that perhaps just a little of that came from my parents being very busy and very worried about the world; and I caught that worry well and truly. I would cry myself to sleep most night worrying about all sorts of the things—the end of the world, whether I would be a better person tomorrow; and I didn’t really have a sense of being loved and feeling secure.
It was at an Easter Camp that somehow the message was given and I finally received it, that God loved me, not for the future and for my potential, but just because, just because I was me, a creature of God’s good creation.
It is the very nature of God to have grace, to be gracious, to offer God’s self generously and without reserve to the creation that God has so lovingly made. The very act of creation is an act of God’s grace.
Before we know anything about God, God has already been at work in our lives—creating us, forming us, shaping us.
In Psalm 139 (NRSV), we read:
All things come from God; and everything we know has its origin in God.
The Psalmist is Psalm 8 (NRSV) wonders at God’s interest in human beings in the context of the wonder of creation:
The word “grace” comes from the Greek word charis meaning gift. Grace is not simply carrying yourself with style; nor is it overlooking something that might otherwise have bothered you. Grace is the absolute, unprovoked, unconditional generosity of God. God creates us, God reconciles us and God makes us holy through absolutely no effort of our own. God is above all things, and beyond all things and precedes all things in God’s great works of creation, redemption and sanctification—making us, liberating us and sustaining us as God’s people.
Now just as we understand there to be only one God—in 3 persons (Father, Son and Holy Spirit; Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer), so we also understand grace as one thing—the very nature of God—but we also think about it having 3 forms.
We think about God’s grace as being:
1. Prevenient (i.e. making and preparing the creation including us);
2. Justifying (i.e. accepting and saving God’s wandering creatures, us,); and
3. Sanctifying (i.e. sustaining and continuing to form us as the people of God for God’s mission in the world).
In this talk, we’re focussing on “prevenient grace”, but remember there’s only one grace, the very nature of God—we just like separating out the different ways in which that grace is at work in our lives.
The word “prevenient” comes from the Latin praevenire meaning “to come before”. God made us in God’s image for relationships. Just as the very nature of God is relational—to be in communion in 3 persons; so it is part of our very created nature to long and yearn for relationship. And the only satisfactory, fulfilling relationship is the one that we have with our Creator, with God. In this respect, we can talk about human beings as being “the glory of God’s creation” because we understand ourselves to be made particularly for relationship with God. And in that, we are also the hope of God’s creation—the hope of God being in relationship with the creation. God’s utter desire is to be in relationship with God’s creation and particularly with humankind, with us.
God’s grace comes before everything because grace is the very nature of God. Before we know God, God knew us. Before we fail God, God loved us. Before we honour God, God creates and awakens us for relationship. Everything we have comes from God; and everything we know has its origin in God. We have been gifted with all this through the graciousness of God—God’s utter, unprovoked, unconditional desire to share God’s self with us.
I remember when I was perhaps most fully able to accept just that—to accept that everything we have is God’s gift. I’d been working with a distance theological education college for nearly 7 years and the last 2 had been absolutely horrific in terms of workload—first as I oversaw the establishment of the postgraduate programs and then as I took on the role of Acting Principal. I was offered a preferential interview for the role of Principal and just before I was due to get on the plane to go to it, I realised that I could simply not sustain the intensity any longer. Taking on the role of Principal would be detrimental to my health. So I got on the plane to tell the interview panel that I couldn’t take on the role even if they decided they’d like me to continue. Of course, that left me with no place to go—I was looking at no job. I knew that I was too burnt out to even think about a congregational placement at that time; and I wasn’t really sure that anyone outside the church would want me in the state I was in. During the middle of that year, I had put in an application for the position of Lecturer in Liturgy & Theology at United Theological College in Sydney, more for my own sense of thinking about future possibilities than any real intuition that this was the job for me. I had already been knocked back on positions from the theological college in my own Synod. And then the position was offered, and Russell said to me, “This is the perfect role for you.” It was pure gift; and it helped me to understand those difficult final years at in my previous position as pure gift because of what they gave me; and it helped me to look back on so many parts of my life and say, “Even though I did not know it, God was there in my life and in the life God’s people.” Everything I have comes from God; and everything I enjoy or not, love or not, appreciate or not, has its origin in God.
Grace is utter good news for us. God created us. God loves us. God wants us to be in relationship so much that God is prepared to even enter God’s own creation in the person of Jesus (but that’s for another talk and someone else to tell you about). As creatures made in God’s image by God, we too are literally programmed for relationship—it’s in our “DNA” as human beings. And we are particularly created for relationship with God who will do all that God can to enable that relationship—all that God can except taking away our free will, our free decision to be in relationship with God. God will never force God’s self on us, because coerced or forced relationship is not relationship at all. God treats us with utter respect as unique and independent beings, despite the fact that God created us especially for God.
And this is God’s covenant with us. God created us for relationship. God promises us to always be open for and indeed enabling our relationship with God.
God’s covenant with us begins in creation; is present throughout human history, fully revealed in Jesus Christ; and present with us now through the work of the Holy Spirit. It is utter, unprovoked, unconditional gift—the eternal nature of God—God’s grace.
So, where do we get this wonderful gift? It’s not ours to buy or solicit, to beg or bargain for. God’s grace is fully revealed in the unique revelation of Jesus Christ, but it’s always with us; it’s encoded in our nature as God’s created beings, God’s creatures. And there are times when we just might catch a glimpse of just a slice of it as we confront the wonder of God’s good creation in the cycle of the seasons, of planting and growing and harvesting. And there are other times when we just might catch a glimpse of just a bit of it as we participate in Christian community, in the body of Christ, caring with and for each other. And there also may be those times when we are comforted, or challenged, or changed and we will know that it is God at work in our lives through the power of the Holy Spirit, working personally in us and interpersonally through others.
But it will never be something that we think we have brought about. It will never be something that we think we’ve earned or deserve. It will never be because of something that we could or should be. It will always be because of who we are and whose we are: God’s much loved, much sought, fragile, frail, glorious creatures—the ones that God wants so much to be in relationship with.
But mostly, of course, we will only recognise this truth in hindsight, as we look back on our lives and discover that God was there all along, even though we did not know it.
An anonymous writer in the Methodist tradition in the late 19th century expressed it this way:
The only question left is “What is your response?” to this previous, gracious gift.
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,
A long way from home, a long way from home.
I vividly remember the time when I first became aware that God loved me, God loved me just for who I was, not for who I could be or I should be.
I was a fairly anxious child, always trying to get things right and to do the right thing. In hindsight, I know now that perhaps just a little of that came from my parents being very busy and very worried about the world; and I caught that worry well and truly. I would cry myself to sleep most night worrying about all sorts of the things—the end of the world, whether I would be a better person tomorrow; and I didn’t really have a sense of being loved and feeling secure.
It was at an Easter Camp that somehow the message was given and I finally received it, that God loved me, not for the future and for my potential, but just because, just because I was me, a creature of God’s good creation.
It is the very nature of God to have grace, to be gracious, to offer God’s self generously and without reserve to the creation that God has so lovingly made. The very act of creation is an act of God’s grace.
Before we know anything about God, God has already been at work in our lives—creating us, forming us, shaping us.
In Psalm 139 (NRSV), we read:
13For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well. 15My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. 16Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed.
All things come from God; and everything we know has its origin in God.
The Psalmist is Psalm 8 (NRSV) wonders at God’s interest in human beings in the context of the wonder of creation:
1 You have set your glory above the heavens… 3When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; 4what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? 5Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honour. 6You have given them dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet…
The word “grace” comes from the Greek word charis meaning gift. Grace is not simply carrying yourself with style; nor is it overlooking something that might otherwise have bothered you. Grace is the absolute, unprovoked, unconditional generosity of God. God creates us, God reconciles us and God makes us holy through absolutely no effort of our own. God is above all things, and beyond all things and precedes all things in God’s great works of creation, redemption and sanctification—making us, liberating us and sustaining us as God’s people.
Now just as we understand there to be only one God—in 3 persons (Father, Son and Holy Spirit; Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer), so we also understand grace as one thing—the very nature of God—but we also think about it having 3 forms.
We think about God’s grace as being:
1. Prevenient (i.e. making and preparing the creation including us);
2. Justifying (i.e. accepting and saving God’s wandering creatures, us,); and
3. Sanctifying (i.e. sustaining and continuing to form us as the people of God for God’s mission in the world).
In this talk, we’re focussing on “prevenient grace”, but remember there’s only one grace, the very nature of God—we just like separating out the different ways in which that grace is at work in our lives.
The word “prevenient” comes from the Latin praevenire meaning “to come before”. God made us in God’s image for relationships. Just as the very nature of God is relational—to be in communion in 3 persons; so it is part of our very created nature to long and yearn for relationship. And the only satisfactory, fulfilling relationship is the one that we have with our Creator, with God. In this respect, we can talk about human beings as being “the glory of God’s creation” because we understand ourselves to be made particularly for relationship with God. And in that, we are also the hope of God’s creation—the hope of God being in relationship with the creation. God’s utter desire is to be in relationship with God’s creation and particularly with humankind, with us.
God’s grace comes before everything because grace is the very nature of God. Before we know God, God knew us. Before we fail God, God loved us. Before we honour God, God creates and awakens us for relationship. Everything we have comes from God; and everything we know has its origin in God. We have been gifted with all this through the graciousness of God—God’s utter, unprovoked, unconditional desire to share God’s self with us.
I remember when I was perhaps most fully able to accept just that—to accept that everything we have is God’s gift. I’d been working with a distance theological education college for nearly 7 years and the last 2 had been absolutely horrific in terms of workload—first as I oversaw the establishment of the postgraduate programs and then as I took on the role of Acting Principal. I was offered a preferential interview for the role of Principal and just before I was due to get on the plane to go to it, I realised that I could simply not sustain the intensity any longer. Taking on the role of Principal would be detrimental to my health. So I got on the plane to tell the interview panel that I couldn’t take on the role even if they decided they’d like me to continue. Of course, that left me with no place to go—I was looking at no job. I knew that I was too burnt out to even think about a congregational placement at that time; and I wasn’t really sure that anyone outside the church would want me in the state I was in. During the middle of that year, I had put in an application for the position of Lecturer in Liturgy & Theology at United Theological College in Sydney, more for my own sense of thinking about future possibilities than any real intuition that this was the job for me. I had already been knocked back on positions from the theological college in my own Synod. And then the position was offered, and Russell said to me, “This is the perfect role for you.” It was pure gift; and it helped me to understand those difficult final years at in my previous position as pure gift because of what they gave me; and it helped me to look back on so many parts of my life and say, “Even though I did not know it, God was there in my life and in the life God’s people.” Everything I have comes from God; and everything I enjoy or not, love or not, appreciate or not, has its origin in God.
Grace is utter good news for us. God created us. God loves us. God wants us to be in relationship so much that God is prepared to even enter God’s own creation in the person of Jesus (but that’s for another talk and someone else to tell you about). As creatures made in God’s image by God, we too are literally programmed for relationship—it’s in our “DNA” as human beings. And we are particularly created for relationship with God who will do all that God can to enable that relationship—all that God can except taking away our free will, our free decision to be in relationship with God. God will never force God’s self on us, because coerced or forced relationship is not relationship at all. God treats us with utter respect as unique and independent beings, despite the fact that God created us especially for God.
And this is God’s covenant with us. God created us for relationship. God promises us to always be open for and indeed enabling our relationship with God.
We are not alone,
we live in God’s world.
We believe in God:
who has created and is creating,
who has come in Jesus,
the Word made flesh,
to reconcile and make new,
who works in us and others
by the Spirit.
We trust in God.
We are called to be the Church:
to celebrate God’s presence,
to live with respect in Creation,
to love and serve others,
to seek justice and resist evil,
to proclaim Jesus,
crucified and risen,
our judge and our hope.
In life, in death, in life beyond death,
God is with us. We are not alone.
Thanks be to God.
(The United Church of Canada, General Council 1968, alt. 1998)
God’s covenant with us begins in creation; is present throughout human history, fully revealed in Jesus Christ; and present with us now through the work of the Holy Spirit. It is utter, unprovoked, unconditional gift—the eternal nature of God—God’s grace.
So, where do we get this wonderful gift? It’s not ours to buy or solicit, to beg or bargain for. God’s grace is fully revealed in the unique revelation of Jesus Christ, but it’s always with us; it’s encoded in our nature as God’s created beings, God’s creatures. And there are times when we just might catch a glimpse of just a slice of it as we confront the wonder of God’s good creation in the cycle of the seasons, of planting and growing and harvesting. And there are other times when we just might catch a glimpse of just a bit of it as we participate in Christian community, in the body of Christ, caring with and for each other. And there also may be those times when we are comforted, or challenged, or changed and we will know that it is God at work in our lives through the power of the Holy Spirit, working personally in us and interpersonally through others.
But it will never be something that we think we have brought about. It will never be something that we think we’ve earned or deserve. It will never be because of something that we could or should be. It will always be because of who we are and whose we are: God’s much loved, much sought, fragile, frail, glorious creatures—the ones that God wants so much to be in relationship with.
But mostly, of course, we will only recognise this truth in hindsight, as we look back on our lives and discover that God was there all along, even though we did not know it.
An anonymous writer in the Methodist tradition in the late 19th century expressed it this way:
I sought the Lord, and afterward I knew
he moved my soul to seek him, seeking me.
It was not I that found, O Saviour true;
no I was found of thee.
Thou didst reach forth they hand and mine enfold;
I walked and sank not on the storm-vexed sea.
‘Twas not so much that I on thee took hold,
as thou, dear Lord, on me.
I find, I walk, I love, but oh, the whole
Of love is but my answer, Lord, to thee!
For thou wert long beforehand with my soul;
Always thou lovedst me.
The only question left is “What is your response?” to this previous, gracious gift.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Boast Only of Christ
Year C Ordinary Sunday 14 Sermon--2 Kings 5:1-14; Galatians 6:1-16; Luke 10:1-20
So Jesus sends disciples out—70 of them; and as they go, he warns them, “You won’t find the going easy, so you have to have some strategies in place. If people listen and respond, work with them. If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on. If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.” Is this the Jesus we’re used to hearing, or at least thinking about? Is this really what Jesus said, what Jesus meant, what we’re supposed to do in Jesus’ name? “If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.”
We want to believe that everyone can get it; that everyone will understand; but what if they don’t? We want to believe that we live in a Christian society, or at least one based on the Judaeo-Christian tradition; we want to feel secure that we share Christian values or values compatible with Christianity with our neighbours; but what if we don’t? And what do we do if we find ourselves in such a situation? What do we do if we realise that that’s the situation that we’ve been in all along? “If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.”
We are living in a time when it is clear that not everyone does share the values that we would want to uphold. We certainly know that not everyone understands God in the way that we do. But where is the compassion with such an injunction: “If they don’t get it don’t waste your time. Move on.”?
If nothing else, Jesus’ words force us to confront the truth that we will not always find the message of Christ welcome in the places we inhabit. And to some extent, Jesus’ words let us off the hook: “If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.” If you know the message is not getting through, then don’t waste your time, don’t waste your energy, don’t risk despair, ridicule and disheartenment. Move on.
But why? Why doesn’t Jesus say, “Persist”? “Never give up. Never give in. Never believe that all is lost. Always believe that you just might get my message across.”
As Galatians reminds us, other barriers don’t seem to get in the way of sharing the good news. Both Jews and Gentiles, both circumcised and uncircumcised may be part of God’s new creation in Christ Jesus. Why is the line in the sand, or rather the dust, drawn by Jesus here?
And then, the conclusion of the story in Luke indicates that the 70 received an amazing reception—that they rejoiced at the authority with which they’d been received. None of Jesus’ fears were realised apparently. And still Jesus cautions, although the caution is slightly different: “It’s not about what authority others give you. It’s about who you are in God.” “It’s not about what authority other give you. It’s about who you are in God.”
Whether people like you or don’t, whether people receive the message or not, it’s never about that. It’s always about who you are in God. You don’t need to save the world—God does that. You just need to be true to the good news. You don’t need to save the world. You just need to be true to the good news.
We can get so wrapped up in what we do, how we behave, what we achieve that it’s sometimes very easy to forget what we were doing it for, why we were behaving that way, or in whose name we were seeking to achieve. Jesus’ words remind us that it’s never about us in that sense. It’s always about us as the people whom we are in God.
For God requires very little of us. God doesn’t expect us to be God. God expects us to be us.
Naaman didn’t quite understand it either. He thought that something momentous should be required of him in order for him to be healed. He couldn’t believe that the prophet, by way of messenger, only asked him to bathe in the Jordan River.
He thought that it should have been the king who made the proclamation, but it was just a prophet and not even a prophet, but a prophet’s servant.
Naaman thought that the things of God needed to be bigger and grander and more difficult; but it was just a simple request from a servant that God demanded of Naaman. And this is all that God asks of us too—just something simple.
We humans want our lives to be grand, to be wonderful, to be larger than life, but that is not what God asks of us. God asks of us only that we honour God; only that we tell God’s story; only that we share the good news in word and deed. God doesn’t ask us to save the world, because that, friends, is God’s work. God just asks us to respond to that marvellous act of salvation.
“If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.” Not because God does not care for them; not because things can’t change, but because God does not ask us to change them. We are not the source of such miraculous power. We are not the centre of such momentous action. We are just servants at the door of a prophet, and more than a prophet, of the reconciling one Jesus Christ. And God asks of us only this: that we deliver the message and move on.
And surely, in delivering the message, we will discover unexpectedly and joyfully, that God has used us in God’s work.
So Jesus sends disciples out—70 of them; and as they go, he warns them, “You won’t find the going easy, so you have to have some strategies in place. If people listen and respond, work with them. If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on. If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.” Is this the Jesus we’re used to hearing, or at least thinking about? Is this really what Jesus said, what Jesus meant, what we’re supposed to do in Jesus’ name? “If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.”
We want to believe that everyone can get it; that everyone will understand; but what if they don’t? We want to believe that we live in a Christian society, or at least one based on the Judaeo-Christian tradition; we want to feel secure that we share Christian values or values compatible with Christianity with our neighbours; but what if we don’t? And what do we do if we find ourselves in such a situation? What do we do if we realise that that’s the situation that we’ve been in all along? “If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.”
We are living in a time when it is clear that not everyone does share the values that we would want to uphold. We certainly know that not everyone understands God in the way that we do. But where is the compassion with such an injunction: “If they don’t get it don’t waste your time. Move on.”?
If nothing else, Jesus’ words force us to confront the truth that we will not always find the message of Christ welcome in the places we inhabit. And to some extent, Jesus’ words let us off the hook: “If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.” If you know the message is not getting through, then don’t waste your time, don’t waste your energy, don’t risk despair, ridicule and disheartenment. Move on.
But why? Why doesn’t Jesus say, “Persist”? “Never give up. Never give in. Never believe that all is lost. Always believe that you just might get my message across.”
As Galatians reminds us, other barriers don’t seem to get in the way of sharing the good news. Both Jews and Gentiles, both circumcised and uncircumcised may be part of God’s new creation in Christ Jesus. Why is the line in the sand, or rather the dust, drawn by Jesus here?
And then, the conclusion of the story in Luke indicates that the 70 received an amazing reception—that they rejoiced at the authority with which they’d been received. None of Jesus’ fears were realised apparently. And still Jesus cautions, although the caution is slightly different: “It’s not about what authority others give you. It’s about who you are in God.” “It’s not about what authority other give you. It’s about who you are in God.”
Whether people like you or don’t, whether people receive the message or not, it’s never about that. It’s always about who you are in God. You don’t need to save the world—God does that. You just need to be true to the good news. You don’t need to save the world. You just need to be true to the good news.
We can get so wrapped up in what we do, how we behave, what we achieve that it’s sometimes very easy to forget what we were doing it for, why we were behaving that way, or in whose name we were seeking to achieve. Jesus’ words remind us that it’s never about us in that sense. It’s always about us as the people whom we are in God.
For God requires very little of us. God doesn’t expect us to be God. God expects us to be us.
Naaman didn’t quite understand it either. He thought that something momentous should be required of him in order for him to be healed. He couldn’t believe that the prophet, by way of messenger, only asked him to bathe in the Jordan River.
He thought that it should have been the king who made the proclamation, but it was just a prophet and not even a prophet, but a prophet’s servant.
Naaman thought that the things of God needed to be bigger and grander and more difficult; but it was just a simple request from a servant that God demanded of Naaman. And this is all that God asks of us too—just something simple.
We humans want our lives to be grand, to be wonderful, to be larger than life, but that is not what God asks of us. God asks of us only that we honour God; only that we tell God’s story; only that we share the good news in word and deed. God doesn’t ask us to save the world, because that, friends, is God’s work. God just asks us to respond to that marvellous act of salvation.
“If they don’t get it, don’t waste your time. Move on.” Not because God does not care for them; not because things can’t change, but because God does not ask us to change them. We are not the source of such miraculous power. We are not the centre of such momentous action. We are just servants at the door of a prophet, and more than a prophet, of the reconciling one Jesus Christ. And God asks of us only this: that we deliver the message and move on.
And surely, in delivering the message, we will discover unexpectedly and joyfully, that God has used us in God’s work.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
On Irenaeus
There are many unresolved questions in Christianity as those of you doing “Living the Questions” have been exploring. Perhaps one of the greatest of those unresolved issues is the question of “theodicy” (literally the “righteousness of God”). Essentially this dilemma asks:
If God is all-loving, all-knowing and all-powerful, then where does evil come from?
In more recent times, the dilemma has been asked in more human terms: “Why do bad things happen to good people?” There is no definitive Christian response to this question, although many theologians have wrestled with it.
One theologian who wrestled with it and posed a possible solution was Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons at the end of the 2nd century AD. The Christian calendar commemorates Irenaeus on 28 June each year.
In the face of people who tended towards thinking about having 2 gods (a good one and an evil one), Irenaeus affirmed both the goodness of the one God and God’s unity. A corollary of this affirmation was the emphasis on the goodness and purposefulness of God’s creation.
These affirmations led Irenaeus to understand humans as being on a journey from immaturity to maturity towards God. Part of that journey involved suffering or encounter with evil, in order to learn to persist faithfully on the journey. Of course, this approach isn’t enough in the face of momentous human tragedy such as the Holocaust, but it does remind us that part of being created is living in a world that is constantly changing. Change around us forces change within us; and, if we understand ourselves as creatures of God, then we must also expect that God will be working in and through those changes.
Process theology is a contemporary heir of Irenaeus and his emphasis on humanity’s journey towards God. Some process theologians even go so far as to suggest that God is also in the process of “becoming” from the limited perspective of our lineal view of time. If we believe that God is all-loving, all-knowing and all-powerful, then surely we will expect that God is travelling the journey with us, in all its changes, and vagaries, and difficulties; and that God is the ultimate goal and purpose of all that we are and do by the very grace of God.
If God is all-loving, all-knowing and all-powerful, then where does evil come from?
In more recent times, the dilemma has been asked in more human terms: “Why do bad things happen to good people?” There is no definitive Christian response to this question, although many theologians have wrestled with it.
One theologian who wrestled with it and posed a possible solution was Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons at the end of the 2nd century AD. The Christian calendar commemorates Irenaeus on 28 June each year.
In the face of people who tended towards thinking about having 2 gods (a good one and an evil one), Irenaeus affirmed both the goodness of the one God and God’s unity. A corollary of this affirmation was the emphasis on the goodness and purposefulness of God’s creation.
These affirmations led Irenaeus to understand humans as being on a journey from immaturity to maturity towards God. Part of that journey involved suffering or encounter with evil, in order to learn to persist faithfully on the journey. Of course, this approach isn’t enough in the face of momentous human tragedy such as the Holocaust, but it does remind us that part of being created is living in a world that is constantly changing. Change around us forces change within us; and, if we understand ourselves as creatures of God, then we must also expect that God will be working in and through those changes.
Process theology is a contemporary heir of Irenaeus and his emphasis on humanity’s journey towards God. Some process theologians even go so far as to suggest that God is also in the process of “becoming” from the limited perspective of our lineal view of time. If we believe that God is all-loving, all-knowing and all-powerful, then surely we will expect that God is travelling the journey with us, in all its changes, and vagaries, and difficulties; and that God is the ultimate goal and purpose of all that we are and do by the very grace of God.
Sermon at a Blessing of an Inter-faith Marriage
All that we have comes from God. All that we have comes from God. This profound belief is shared by the peoples of the book, the great Abrahamic faiths—Judaism, Christianity and Islam. All that we have comes from God.
This is the place from where we begin when we want to understand what it means to be human, what it means to be created, what it means to be gifted with the world in which we live and the life that we have. All that we have comes from God.
This is the place from where we begin when we want to understand our proper response to God, what it is that we owe God, what it is that God wants of us. All that we have comes from God.
And all that we are asked to do in return is to honour God, is to love God, is to return thanks to God. All that we have comes from God.
The reading from the Qu’ran read today reminds us to “give glory to Allah” and bids us to offer praise at every time of day. The reading from the epistle to the Colossians reminds us that “whatever we do, in word or deed”, we should “do everything … giving thanks to God”. This is the place from where we begin in all that we do, in everything that we have, in all that we are. All that we have comes from God.
And this is the place from which our covenants with one another begin.
The gift of relationship is a gift from God; and good relationships are founded in God—a God who is relational and who longs to be in relationship with us; a God who created us, who loves us and who gifts us with every good thing. This is the place from where we begin as we covenant with one another—as we covenant with one another to live together in society, in community, in family, in marriage. All that we have comes from God.
Relationships founded in God exhibit important characteristics. The Qu’ran speaks of dwelling in tranquillity with love and mercy in our hearts. The Colossians reading speaks of clothing ourselves “with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience”, “with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony”, and of the “peace of Christ” ruling our hearts. All these qualities are fruits of a love grounded in recognition that all that we have comes from God.
Hesam and Maria come today seeking God’s blessing on their marriage. They share the gift of faith in the tradition of the peoples of the book. They do not share exactly the same faith; but they do share the desire to ensure that their relationship is grounded in the God from whom all that we have comes. They come desiring to love God, and honour God, and return thanks to God for the gift they have been given.
None of us come to our relationships exactly the same as the other people with whom we covenant. Each one of us is a unique person, a unique creature of God. Each one of us comes to the life we have with different skills, different abilities, different gifts. Each one of us comes to our relationships with our own struggles, our own baggage, our own foibles. All that we have comes from God.
When we know that what we have comes from God, we learn to understand life as gift. We discover that life is present. And we desire to live that life in all its fullness as the gift from God that it is. We meet difference with compassion and understanding. We meet variation with wonder and awe. We meet challenge with commitment and endurance.
And so today, Maria and Hesam come promising to be compassionate with one another, to live in the wonder of each other’s differences and variations and to meet the challenges that their relationship will bring with commitment and endurance. And they come seeking God’s blessing on their intention. Surely, this too is gift indeed. All that we have comes from God; and all that we owe God, all that God requires of us, all that is necessary for us is to honour God, to love God, and to return our thanks to God for these gifts.
This is the place from where we begin when we want to understand what it means to be human, what it means to be created, what it means to be gifted with the world in which we live and the life that we have. All that we have comes from God.
This is the place from where we begin when we want to understand our proper response to God, what it is that we owe God, what it is that God wants of us. All that we have comes from God.
And all that we are asked to do in return is to honour God, is to love God, is to return thanks to God. All that we have comes from God.
The reading from the Qu’ran read today reminds us to “give glory to Allah” and bids us to offer praise at every time of day. The reading from the epistle to the Colossians reminds us that “whatever we do, in word or deed”, we should “do everything … giving thanks to God”. This is the place from where we begin in all that we do, in everything that we have, in all that we are. All that we have comes from God.
And this is the place from which our covenants with one another begin.
The gift of relationship is a gift from God; and good relationships are founded in God—a God who is relational and who longs to be in relationship with us; a God who created us, who loves us and who gifts us with every good thing. This is the place from where we begin as we covenant with one another—as we covenant with one another to live together in society, in community, in family, in marriage. All that we have comes from God.
Relationships founded in God exhibit important characteristics. The Qu’ran speaks of dwelling in tranquillity with love and mercy in our hearts. The Colossians reading speaks of clothing ourselves “with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience”, “with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony”, and of the “peace of Christ” ruling our hearts. All these qualities are fruits of a love grounded in recognition that all that we have comes from God.
Hesam and Maria come today seeking God’s blessing on their marriage. They share the gift of faith in the tradition of the peoples of the book. They do not share exactly the same faith; but they do share the desire to ensure that their relationship is grounded in the God from whom all that we have comes. They come desiring to love God, and honour God, and return thanks to God for the gift they have been given.
None of us come to our relationships exactly the same as the other people with whom we covenant. Each one of us is a unique person, a unique creature of God. Each one of us comes to the life we have with different skills, different abilities, different gifts. Each one of us comes to our relationships with our own struggles, our own baggage, our own foibles. All that we have comes from God.
When we know that what we have comes from God, we learn to understand life as gift. We discover that life is present. And we desire to live that life in all its fullness as the gift from God that it is. We meet difference with compassion and understanding. We meet variation with wonder and awe. We meet challenge with commitment and endurance.
And so today, Maria and Hesam come promising to be compassionate with one another, to live in the wonder of each other’s differences and variations and to meet the challenges that their relationship will bring with commitment and endurance. And they come seeking God’s blessing on their intention. Surely, this too is gift indeed. All that we have comes from God; and all that we owe God, all that God requires of us, all that is necessary for us is to honour God, to love God, and to return our thanks to God for these gifts.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Addressing the Powers (Expanded)
The Gerasene demoniac—this unfortunate character has assumed legendary proportions, and the legend begins right here in the story, a story recounted in both the Gospels of Mark and Luke. And it’s exactly the kind of story that a tale written for a Roman or a Gentile or a Jewish or indeed a postmodern audience would include because this tale has it all—horror and pathos, comedy and humour, politics and double entendres (double or hidden or secret meanings). This story is all that it seems and more. It is a story of intrigue—social and political intrigue—and larger than life characters and events.
The demoniac himself is unbelievable—“he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds”. This character is unrestrainable and unbelievable. As Walter Wink puts it, “it really is possible to fashion chains too powerful for anyone to break” (Unmasking the Powers p. 45).
For Rene Girard, the demoniac is a scapegoat—someone who bears the brunt of the community’s social and political dysfunction in the face any real alternatives to change their particular lot. The townsfolk allow his “escape” in order to vicariously pursue and subdue the real demons that beset their community. This outcast has survived and escaped. Somebody must be arranging and permitting it.
Whether the demoniac is scapegoat or not, he is metaphor—metaphor or symbol for that which cannot be talked about directly, the domination of the Roman conquerors and the suppression of the peoples over whom they reign. The person with unclean spirits, the Gerasene demoniac, calls himself “Legion”. The text glosses the name with “for many demons had entered him”. However, “legion” isn’t just about many. It’s also about kind. Legion speaks of troops of invaders and conquerors, suppressing and repressing not just individuals, but whole populations. This story is not simply a story about one person’s possession. It resonates against the background of the whole political situation, not just of the Middle East, but of the “known world” at the time. Roman legions conquered and suppressed peoples creating a “Roman peace” which was not a peace at all for those who were conquered. The Decapolis, the regions of the 10 cities, the region of Gerasa or Gadara or Gergesa depending on which ancient authorities you use, the “Decapolis knew the legions. They were not ‘mobs’… but one of the most disciplined military formations the world has ever known” (Wink p. 46). The Gerasene demoniac was symbol of the community’s oppression and scapegoat for it.
But what does Jesus do? He does precisely what the demoniac does not want, precisely what the demons do not want, precisely what the community does not want, because all of them are complicit in this pathology, this unhealthy cycle, this dysfunction. Jesus addresses the oppressive powers and evicts them.
This is not simply the story of a personal healing; it is a much bigger story than that. This is the story of the way in which the way of Christ challenges dysfunctional communities, political powers, oppressive regimes and the various pathologies which perpetuate and replicate such dysfunctional and repressive situations.
This story asks us to take seriously the socio-political implications of the Gospel; of the gift of Jesus for the world. And it asks us to take those implications seriously not simply for the first century, but for the twenty-first century—for our socio-political situation now.
Who are the powerful people or groups in our society? What do they invade and conquer? And whom do they suppress? Who are the scapegoats who stand in for the oppressions that are really at the heart of our dysfunction; and what unhealthy cycles are we drawn into and refuse to be released from? The answers will be different from those of the time of Jesus and of the writer of the Gospel of Luke; but they will be no less important for us and for our awareness of the impact of salvation or liberation in Christ for our time.
In the face of the aftermath (and perhaps the ongoing nature) of the Global Financial Crisis, as we confront human-made disasters of the proportion of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill disaster, and aware of the powerful forces at work in transnational commercial and financial dealings, we must ask questions about how the “powers that be” in our time are working—for whom, with whom and against whom? And we must ask those questions against the background of the Gospel message of God’s love and Jesus’ compassion for the afflicted.
As we prepare for this year’s federal election, we must ask questions about how the “powers that be” in our time are working—for whom, with whom and against whom? And we must ask those questions against the background of the Gospel message of God’s love and Jesus’ compassion for the afflicted.
At the inauguration of The Uniting Church in Australia, a Statement to the Nation was issued. In part, it said:
This is the power to whom we owe our only allegiance. It is a power that does not produce dysfunction or facilitate pathological or unhealthy cycles of behaviour. It is a power that works for liberation, for salvation, for justice, for peace and for God’s good creation.
For if it is because of the power of God that the powers are addressed and the demons cast out, then God’s realm is surely here.
The demons flee from the scapegoat into scape-pigs and rush into the chaos of the abyss, the sea, leaving Jesus to move on to the next confrontation, and the community free to face the new reality of God’s liberation in Christ.
The demoniac himself is unbelievable—“he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds”. This character is unrestrainable and unbelievable. As Walter Wink puts it, “it really is possible to fashion chains too powerful for anyone to break” (Unmasking the Powers p. 45).
For Rene Girard, the demoniac is a scapegoat—someone who bears the brunt of the community’s social and political dysfunction in the face any real alternatives to change their particular lot. The townsfolk allow his “escape” in order to vicariously pursue and subdue the real demons that beset their community. This outcast has survived and escaped. Somebody must be arranging and permitting it.
They must be deliberately keeping him alive, and they chain him in such a way that he can break free. This must have been acted out as a ritual many times before. “The Gerasenes and their demons have for some time settled into some sort of cyclical pathology”… In a sense they must have enjoyed and even needed this drama since [at least in the story in Mark] they beg Jesus to leave immediately and not meddle further in their affairs.
Whether the demoniac is scapegoat or not, he is metaphor—metaphor or symbol for that which cannot be talked about directly, the domination of the Roman conquerors and the suppression of the peoples over whom they reign. The person with unclean spirits, the Gerasene demoniac, calls himself “Legion”. The text glosses the name with “for many demons had entered him”. However, “legion” isn’t just about many. It’s also about kind. Legion speaks of troops of invaders and conquerors, suppressing and repressing not just individuals, but whole populations. This story is not simply a story about one person’s possession. It resonates against the background of the whole political situation, not just of the Middle East, but of the “known world” at the time. Roman legions conquered and suppressed peoples creating a “Roman peace” which was not a peace at all for those who were conquered. The Decapolis, the regions of the 10 cities, the region of Gerasa or Gadara or Gergesa depending on which ancient authorities you use, the “Decapolis knew the legions. They were not ‘mobs’… but one of the most disciplined military formations the world has ever known” (Wink p. 46). The Gerasene demoniac was symbol of the community’s oppression and scapegoat for it.
He does what they would like to do: tear apart the chains and shatter the fetters of Roman authority… “No one had the strength to subdue him.” But he had also internalised their captivity and the utter futility of resistance… Here was the perfect scapegoat, a holy fool, an escape valve, a living parable of [the community’s] discontent. Tradition rightly calls him the Gerasen demoniac, for that is precisely his function—to be the demoniac of the Gerasenes. That is why he [or the demons plead, depending on the version of the story] that his demons not be sent “out of the country” [or into the abyss]. They “belong” there. They are the spirits of the region, and the demoniac is their incarnation… He is “occupied”, just as they are… the demons “speak Latin, present themselves as a ‘legion’, and like the Romans have only one wish: to be allowed to stay in the country [or not to be sent into the abyss] (Wink pp. 46-47).
But what does Jesus do? He does precisely what the demoniac does not want, precisely what the demons do not want, precisely what the community does not want, because all of them are complicit in this pathology, this unhealthy cycle, this dysfunction. Jesus addresses the oppressive powers and evicts them.
This is not simply the story of a personal healing; it is a much bigger story than that. This is the story of the way in which the way of Christ challenges dysfunctional communities, political powers, oppressive regimes and the various pathologies which perpetuate and replicate such dysfunctional and repressive situations.
This story asks us to take seriously the socio-political implications of the Gospel; of the gift of Jesus for the world. And it asks us to take those implications seriously not simply for the first century, but for the twenty-first century—for our socio-political situation now.
Who are the powerful people or groups in our society? What do they invade and conquer? And whom do they suppress? Who are the scapegoats who stand in for the oppressions that are really at the heart of our dysfunction; and what unhealthy cycles are we drawn into and refuse to be released from? The answers will be different from those of the time of Jesus and of the writer of the Gospel of Luke; but they will be no less important for us and for our awareness of the impact of salvation or liberation in Christ for our time.
In the face of the aftermath (and perhaps the ongoing nature) of the Global Financial Crisis, as we confront human-made disasters of the proportion of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill disaster, and aware of the powerful forces at work in transnational commercial and financial dealings, we must ask questions about how the “powers that be” in our time are working—for whom, with whom and against whom? And we must ask those questions against the background of the Gospel message of God’s love and Jesus’ compassion for the afflicted.
As we prepare for this year’s federal election, we must ask questions about how the “powers that be” in our time are working—for whom, with whom and against whom? And we must ask those questions against the background of the Gospel message of God’s love and Jesus’ compassion for the afflicted.
This is because the demonic is not merely a cluster of pathological symptoms, but a radical rejection of God and a state of estrangement from God, from one’s own higher self (the imago Dei [the image of God]), and from full social being (Wink p. 59).
At the inauguration of The Uniting Church in Australia, a Statement to the Nation was issued. In part, it said:
…we affirm that the first allegiance of Christians is God, under whose judgment the policies and actions of all nations must pass. We realise that sometimes this allegiance may bring us into conflict with the rulers of our day. But our Uniting Church, as an institution within the nation, must constantly stress the universal values which must find expression in national policies if humanity is to survive.
We pledge ourselves to hope and work for a nation whose goals are not guided by self-interest alone, but by concern for the welfare of all persons everywhere — the family of the One God — the God made known in Jesus of Nazareth the One who gave His life for others.
This is the power to whom we owe our only allegiance. It is a power that does not produce dysfunction or facilitate pathological or unhealthy cycles of behaviour. It is a power that works for liberation, for salvation, for justice, for peace and for God’s good creation.
In [Jesus’] encounters with the demonic there was no protracted struggle, no violence aimed at the exorcist, no magical words, crucifixes, holy water—not even the invocation of the divine name. Jesus is totally calm, totally in control. There is no question… whether Jesus will prevail. The demons are depicted as weak fractions of power unable to tolerate the presence of divine authority. The demonic attempts to make a part the whole, and cannot withstand the power of anyone who is related to that Whole in and through and for which all things exist… What made his exorcisms so distinct, and so frightening to those in authority, was their integration into his proclamation, in word and act, of the inbreaking of “the new order” (Wink p. 58).
For if it is because of the power of God that the powers are addressed and the demons cast out, then God’s realm is surely here.
…the early church freed people from the fear of demons, not so much by grim combat… but be a triumphant satire of their impotence in the face of the risen Christ...(Wink p. 64)
The demons flee from the scapegoat into scape-pigs and rush into the chaos of the abyss, the sea, leaving Jesus to move on to the next confrontation, and the community free to face the new reality of God’s liberation in Christ.
Addressing the Powers
The person with unclean spirits in today’s Gospel reading (Luke 8:26-39) calls himself “Legion”. The text glosses the name with “for many demons had entered him”. However, “legion” isn’t just about many. It’s also about kind. Legion speaks of troops of invaders and conquerors, suppressing and repressing not just individuals, but whole populations. This story is not simply a story about one person’s possession. It resonates against the background of the whole political situation, not just of the Middle East, but of the “known world” at the time. Roman legions conquered and suppressed peoples creating a “Roman peace” which was not a peace at all for those who were conquered.
The Gospel reading then asks us to consider not simply the personal healing of individual lives in the presence of Jesus; but also the political situation. Who are the powerful people or groups in our society? What do they invade and conquer? And whom do they suppress? The answers will be different from those of the time of Jesus and of the writer of the Gospel of Luke; but they will be no less important.
In the face of the aftermath (and perhaps the ongoing nature) of the Global Financial Crisis, as we confront human-made disasters of the proportion of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill disaster, and aware of the powerful forces at work in transnational commercial and financial dealings, we must ask questions about how the “powers that be” in our time are working—for whom, with whom and against whom? And we must ask those questions against the background of the Gospel message of God’s love and Jesus’ compassion for the afflicted.
At the inauguration of The Uniting Church in Australia, a Statement to the Nation was issued. In part, it said:
The Gospel reading then asks us to consider not simply the personal healing of individual lives in the presence of Jesus; but also the political situation. Who are the powerful people or groups in our society? What do they invade and conquer? And whom do they suppress? The answers will be different from those of the time of Jesus and of the writer of the Gospel of Luke; but they will be no less important.
In the face of the aftermath (and perhaps the ongoing nature) of the Global Financial Crisis, as we confront human-made disasters of the proportion of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill disaster, and aware of the powerful forces at work in transnational commercial and financial dealings, we must ask questions about how the “powers that be” in our time are working—for whom, with whom and against whom? And we must ask those questions against the background of the Gospel message of God’s love and Jesus’ compassion for the afflicted.
At the inauguration of The Uniting Church in Australia, a Statement to the Nation was issued. In part, it said:
…we affirm that the first allegiance of Christians is God, under whose judgment the policies and actions of all nations must pass. We realise that sometimes this allegiance may bring us into conflict with the rulers of our day. But our Uniting Church, as an institution within the nation, must constantly stress the universal values which must find expression in national policies if humanity is to survive.
We pledge ourselves to hope and work for a nation whose goals are not guided by self-interest alone, but by concern for the welfare of all persons everywhere — the family of the One God — the God made known in Jesus of Nazareth the One who gave His life for others.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)