Human pride begins with turning our backs on God.
Wisdom begins with facing God in humility.
Those who hate God cringe before God’s judgement.
Those who receive God’s love with openness
are fed with the finest wheat
and, from the rock, honey which satisfies.
God overthrows the powerful abusers
and sets the humble in their place.
For all who exalt themselves will be humbled
and everyone who humbles themselves will be exalted.
(Cf Psalm 81:10-16; Sirach 10:12-18)
Friday, August 27, 2010
Facing God's Wrath
These days we don’t like the image of a wrathful God—and with some reason. The wrath of God has been called down by the people of God on all sorts of people who very likely didn’t deserve it. But if we ignore the God who is angry in the scriptures, we miss a lot of the story. Yet, we must be very careful when we interpret this imagery.
God’s anger is not directed against the stranger. God’s call to the people of God is to provide hospitality to the stranger. God’s anger is not directed towards the people with whom we feel uncomfortable, for they are strangers too.
Rather, God’s anger is directed at the people who should know better—the very people of God; and it is directed at the people of God when we turn away from God’s call to hospitality, and God’s offer of hospitality.
In the scriptures, God is depicted as being angry when the people of God turn away from God; and when the justice of God is transgressed by ill-treatment of those in need—those without the necessary social support required for survival and for thriving. In the scriptures, the classic picture of such people is often given in terms of “the widow, the orphan, and the stranger”.
In our readings for today, we have 2 interesting pictures of God’s judgement. In Jeremiah, God is lamenting a people who left the God who loves them behind:
And in the Gospel reading, Jesus warns about thinking too highly of ourselves and too little of others:
To be sure, God is always merciful, but like a good parent, mercy is not given without direction and boundaries. God loves us; and we know it. Therefore we have a responsibility to the people who need God most.
God’s anger is not directed against the stranger. God’s call to the people of God is to provide hospitality to the stranger. God’s anger is not directed towards the people with whom we feel uncomfortable, for they are strangers too.
Rather, God’s anger is directed at the people who should know better—the very people of God; and it is directed at the people of God when we turn away from God’s call to hospitality, and God’s offer of hospitality.
In the scriptures, God is depicted as being angry when the people of God turn away from God; and when the justice of God is transgressed by ill-treatment of those in need—those without the necessary social support required for survival and for thriving. In the scriptures, the classic picture of such people is often given in terms of “the widow, the orphan, and the stranger”.
In our readings for today, we have 2 interesting pictures of God’s judgement. In Jeremiah, God is lamenting a people who left the God who loves them behind:
Be appalled, O heavens, at this, be shocked, be utterly desolate, says the LORD, for my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water. (Jeremiah 2:12-13)
And in the Gospel reading, Jesus warns about thinking too highly of ourselves and too little of others:
For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. (Luke 14: 11)
To be sure, God is always merciful, but like a good parent, mercy is not given without direction and boundaries. God loves us; and we know it. Therefore we have a responsibility to the people who need God most.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Witness to Grace
Each week, whether we celebrate Holy Communion or not, we gather around Christ’s table, the table of the reconciliation of all creation. As we focus on Stewardship from Thanksgiving, I invite you to remember both the promise of this gift of reconciliation and the vocation that we have within it—to worship, witness and serve as God’s people for the sake of God’s world. The following litany from Brian Wren captures that promise and vocation. It is a meditation on 1 Corinthians 11:17-29 which includes the Narrative of Institution, the telling of the story of the beginning of Christ’s thanksgiving meal.
What do you bring to Christ’s table?
We bring bread,
made by many people’s work,
from an unjust world
where some have plenty
and most go hungry.
At this table all are fed and no-one turned away.
Thanks be to God.
What do you bring to Christ’s table?
We bring wine,
made by many people’s work,
from an unjust world
where some have leisure
and most struggle to survive.
At this table all share the cup
of pain and celebration
and no-one is denied.
Thanks be to God.
These gifts shall be for us
the body and blood of Christ.
Our witness against hunger,
our cry against injustice,
and our hope for a world
where God is fully known
and every child is fed.
Thanks be to God.
(From Wendy Robins, ed., Let All the World, USPG, 1990)
Where Your Treasure Is
In Luke 12:32-40, we are again confronted with questions about our priorities, our orientation, our focus. Are we oriented towards God, or towards the pursuit of things that are not of God? “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (v. 34).
A couple of weeks ago, in the sharing about Emmaus, Armidale Congregation was reminded of the importance of facing up to our real priorities: where our money, time and energy actually goes, not where we think it goes, or want it to go, but where they are actually directed, and what that means for what is our real focus in life? On Sunday 22 August, we’re going to focus on Stewardship from Thanksgiving. We’ll share lunch, give thanks for God’s work in the life of our congregation, and re-consider our own priorities.
In creation, God calls us to be stewards of the resources of creation. In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, God invites us to be partners in healing and reconciliation, stewards of God’s grace. The Spirit works within the people of God as God’s stewards for the benefit of all creation.
If we experience stewardship as acting out of guilt or fear, then we may as well not bother: guilt and fear are not our calling in God. If stewardship is an act of thanksgiving for God’s gracious gifts to us in creating, reconciling and sustaining us as God’s people, then we just might be part of God’s building of a new commonwealth of justice and peace in our world.
So what is it that you are thankful for in your life, the life of the people of God, the life of the world? And do your real priorities reflect your thankfulness; or are they directed towards the “musts” and “shoulds” of other people’s “priorities” and preoccupations?
“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (v. 32). Focus then on the things that are of God: the good creation; reconciliation in Christ; and the gift of the Holy Spirit enfolding us into very life of God. Your priorities, your real priorities will follow this focus as you celebrate the life we have in God.
A couple of weeks ago, in the sharing about Emmaus, Armidale Congregation was reminded of the importance of facing up to our real priorities: where our money, time and energy actually goes, not where we think it goes, or want it to go, but where they are actually directed, and what that means for what is our real focus in life? On Sunday 22 August, we’re going to focus on Stewardship from Thanksgiving. We’ll share lunch, give thanks for God’s work in the life of our congregation, and re-consider our own priorities.
In creation, God calls us to be stewards of the resources of creation. In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, God invites us to be partners in healing and reconciliation, stewards of God’s grace. The Spirit works within the people of God as God’s stewards for the benefit of all creation.
If we experience stewardship as acting out of guilt or fear, then we may as well not bother: guilt and fear are not our calling in God. If stewardship is an act of thanksgiving for God’s gracious gifts to us in creating, reconciling and sustaining us as God’s people, then we just might be part of God’s building of a new commonwealth of justice and peace in our world.
So what is it that you are thankful for in your life, the life of the people of God, the life of the world? And do your real priorities reflect your thankfulness; or are they directed towards the “musts” and “shoulds” of other people’s “priorities” and preoccupations?
“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (v. 32). Focus then on the things that are of God: the good creation; reconciliation in Christ; and the gift of the Holy Spirit enfolding us into very life of God. Your priorities, your real priorities will follow this focus as you celebrate the life we have in God.
Signs of the Times
In Luke 12:49-56, Jesus exhorts his disciples to interpret the signs of the times. Would that it were so easy? It’s hard to know what are the significant social, cultural and economic movements in our time. In this election season, we are presented with many claims and counter-claims about what’s important and what will make things better (or worse).
As Christian people, we begin from a particular perspective in our analysis. We begin with our understandings of who God is, who we are before God, and what is God’s will and purpose, not just for us, but for the whole of creation.
The Twelfth Assembly of The Uniting Church in Australia (July 2009) adopted the statement An Economy of Life: Re-Imagining Human Progress in a Flourishing World. This statement describes how the Church understands God’s will for the reconciliation and renewal of all creation and what this means for how we understand human progress. It considers the values and goals of the current global economic agenda and suggests that a Christian economic perspective would be based on different values and aim to achieve the wellbeing and flourishing of all people and the planet. Pre-election materials have been prepared based on this statement by UnitingJustice (http://assembly.uca.org.au). That resource reminds us:
Let us pray that we may faithfully interpret the signs of the times in God’s terms and act within God’s will for the whole creation. Happy voting!
As Christian people, we begin from a particular perspective in our analysis. We begin with our understandings of who God is, who we are before God, and what is God’s will and purpose, not just for us, but for the whole of creation.
The Twelfth Assembly of The Uniting Church in Australia (July 2009) adopted the statement An Economy of Life: Re-Imagining Human Progress in a Flourishing World. This statement describes how the Church understands God’s will for the reconciliation and renewal of all creation and what this means for how we understand human progress. It considers the values and goals of the current global economic agenda and suggests that a Christian economic perspective would be based on different values and aim to achieve the wellbeing and flourishing of all people and the planet. Pre-election materials have been prepared based on this statement by UnitingJustice (http://assembly.uca.org.au). That resource reminds us:
Like all citizens in a democratic state, Christians have a responsibility to actively engage in the political processes of their country. As Christians, however, we have a particular responsibility to think about how we do this in a way that answers the call to be good news in the world: to bring justice, peace and hope to those processes and to seek justice, peace and hope as outcomes.
Let us pray that we may faithfully interpret the signs of the times in God’s terms and act within God’s will for the whole creation. Happy voting!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
On Building Bigger Barns... Or Not!
Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”
It seems a fair enough request to a Rabbi who might just know the law of inheritance or might just be willing to argue a different perspective for the rights of a younger son or a disinherited child. But we don’t know where the speaker comes in the family order, so we really can’t tell what he wants.
Still, it seems a fair enough request to a Rabbi who was interested in justice and fairness, who had told a story not so long ago in the text about a Good Samaritan who flouted the conventions of the time and the danger of a lonely road to care for a destitute stranger.
Yes, it seems a fair enough request…
Yet like a good Rabbi, frustratingly like a good Rabbi, the Rabbi does not answer with an answer but rather, another question, “Who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” “Who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”
What kind of question is this? Perhaps, it is a rhetorical one that really means “Get away with you. Why are you bothering me with this?” Maybe it is another invitation to identify the identity of this Rabbi like no other: “Well God, of course, gave you the right to judgement or arbitration!” Or perhaps, just perhaps, it is an invitation to think a little differently about the dilemma in which the person in the crowd seems to find himself. And yes, according to the text, it is a he; but then women didn’t get much of a look in in the inheritance stakes in first century societies.
But then, there is a diatribe about the pitfalls of greed. Surely this is the judgement that the Rabbi questions his competence or right or responsibility to give. What’s really going on here?
If it is an invitation to think about the dilemma a little differently, then the Rabbi goes on to provide a judgement anyway. What is really going on here?
Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”
It is the someone in the crowd who comes seeking a judgement but not upon himself, upon his brother. And the Rabbi produces a judgement upon the someone.
But it would be too easy to preach a sermon against the extravagances and injustices of greed. And you probably know all about that. I certainly do. After all, Australia comes about 12th in the worldwide prosperity stakes, and we’re pretty good consumers.
But morality barely touches the surface of the depth of this intriguing passage. And moralism would be far too easy.
No, the key to this passage doesn’t lie in the injunction against greed or the warning about bigger barns, although such a warning may certainly be warranted. No, the key to this passage lies in the tag, the sting in the tail, the reference to the superiority of being rich toward God—being rich toward God. But what does this really mean?
You’d think once we’d located the key, we’d be well and truly on track, wouldn’t you? But it seems that this key just raises more questions than it answers too. This key is more like another puzzle which needs another key, another solution, another answer, another response. But I bet if we asked this Rabbi, we’d receive another enigmatic response again.
What would we ask anyway? What must I do to be rich toward God? It sounds an awful lot like a question asked not so long ago in the text: What must I do to inherit eternal life? It was asked by a lawyer who, for his trouble, got an admonition about loving God and loving neighbour. Although, he wasn’t particularly satisfied with that, so he kept on asking and received a story about a man whom the lawyer might not have recognised as being a neighbour but yet was a neighbour to someone who needed a friend, indeed a rescuer, a saviour. Perhaps things are becoming a little clearer—or not.
The Rabbi is asked for a judgement: a judgement upon a brother; a judgement upon a neighbour. And the seeker receives a judgement upon himself; upon his seeking. And the judgement seems to be pointing back to something a little earlier about loving God and loving neighbour; and a strange story about a strange rescuer.
Judgement upon another was not a part of the parable of the Good Samaritan; mercy was. And this diatribe about greed too is not so much a judgement upon the someone in the crowd, but an act of mercy pointing to the “better part” chosen by Mary of Bethany while Martha is distracted. That wasn’t so long ago in the text either.
These better barns and this question about inheritance, are they distractions too? Or perhaps detours up wrong paths. The Rabbi seems to be saying that, even if we could achieve what this someone in the crowd might want to achieve: the laying up of ample goods, allowing a life of relaxation, eating, drinking and merry-making, it would be for nothing. Judgement may come before we have achieved what we want to achieve. Or it may come after we have achieved what we want to achieve. More likely, it will come while we are trying to achieve what we want to achieve. But whenever it comes, what won’t be significant is what we have achieved or not, or how relaxed and comfortable we are. It will be where we are at with God. And where we are at with God depends on us seeking the riches of God… or does it?
The riches of God have nothing to do with what we can or want to achieve. The riches of God have nothing to do with what we seek or what we find. The riches of God have already been achieved for us in the person of the Rabbi himself, judge and arbitrator, redeemer and saviour.
And then, what is required of us is not a striving for riches but a response to the riches already received and that response consists in the love of God and the love of neighbour. This response is not one that can be achieved or accomplished. It does not have a beginning or an ending. It is not all that complicated. It hardly seems possible that we might have missed it. Rather, it is just what it means to be overwhelmed by the gift of freedom that we find in Christ, by the gift of re-creation that we have been given in Christ, by the gift of renewal that comes to us through Christ.
Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”
The Rabbi just might have said, “You already have what’s coming to you. Sit back and enjoy it which is to say, respond to this gracious gift by honouring the one from whom it comes and nurturing one another in the riches of this grace.” And that my friends, is now and always has been the guts of the Gospel, and the inheritance of eternal life.
It seems a fair enough request to a Rabbi who might just know the law of inheritance or might just be willing to argue a different perspective for the rights of a younger son or a disinherited child. But we don’t know where the speaker comes in the family order, so we really can’t tell what he wants.
Still, it seems a fair enough request to a Rabbi who was interested in justice and fairness, who had told a story not so long ago in the text about a Good Samaritan who flouted the conventions of the time and the danger of a lonely road to care for a destitute stranger.
Yes, it seems a fair enough request…
Yet like a good Rabbi, frustratingly like a good Rabbi, the Rabbi does not answer with an answer but rather, another question, “Who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” “Who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”
What kind of question is this? Perhaps, it is a rhetorical one that really means “Get away with you. Why are you bothering me with this?” Maybe it is another invitation to identify the identity of this Rabbi like no other: “Well God, of course, gave you the right to judgement or arbitration!” Or perhaps, just perhaps, it is an invitation to think a little differently about the dilemma in which the person in the crowd seems to find himself. And yes, according to the text, it is a he; but then women didn’t get much of a look in in the inheritance stakes in first century societies.
But then, there is a diatribe about the pitfalls of greed. Surely this is the judgement that the Rabbi questions his competence or right or responsibility to give. What’s really going on here?
If it is an invitation to think about the dilemma a little differently, then the Rabbi goes on to provide a judgement anyway. What is really going on here?
Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”
It is the someone in the crowd who comes seeking a judgement but not upon himself, upon his brother. And the Rabbi produces a judgement upon the someone.
But it would be too easy to preach a sermon against the extravagances and injustices of greed. And you probably know all about that. I certainly do. After all, Australia comes about 12th in the worldwide prosperity stakes, and we’re pretty good consumers.
But morality barely touches the surface of the depth of this intriguing passage. And moralism would be far too easy.
No, the key to this passage doesn’t lie in the injunction against greed or the warning about bigger barns, although such a warning may certainly be warranted. No, the key to this passage lies in the tag, the sting in the tail, the reference to the superiority of being rich toward God—being rich toward God. But what does this really mean?
You’d think once we’d located the key, we’d be well and truly on track, wouldn’t you? But it seems that this key just raises more questions than it answers too. This key is more like another puzzle which needs another key, another solution, another answer, another response. But I bet if we asked this Rabbi, we’d receive another enigmatic response again.
What would we ask anyway? What must I do to be rich toward God? It sounds an awful lot like a question asked not so long ago in the text: What must I do to inherit eternal life? It was asked by a lawyer who, for his trouble, got an admonition about loving God and loving neighbour. Although, he wasn’t particularly satisfied with that, so he kept on asking and received a story about a man whom the lawyer might not have recognised as being a neighbour but yet was a neighbour to someone who needed a friend, indeed a rescuer, a saviour. Perhaps things are becoming a little clearer—or not.
The Rabbi is asked for a judgement: a judgement upon a brother; a judgement upon a neighbour. And the seeker receives a judgement upon himself; upon his seeking. And the judgement seems to be pointing back to something a little earlier about loving God and loving neighbour; and a strange story about a strange rescuer.
Judgement upon another was not a part of the parable of the Good Samaritan; mercy was. And this diatribe about greed too is not so much a judgement upon the someone in the crowd, but an act of mercy pointing to the “better part” chosen by Mary of Bethany while Martha is distracted. That wasn’t so long ago in the text either.
These better barns and this question about inheritance, are they distractions too? Or perhaps detours up wrong paths. The Rabbi seems to be saying that, even if we could achieve what this someone in the crowd might want to achieve: the laying up of ample goods, allowing a life of relaxation, eating, drinking and merry-making, it would be for nothing. Judgement may come before we have achieved what we want to achieve. Or it may come after we have achieved what we want to achieve. More likely, it will come while we are trying to achieve what we want to achieve. But whenever it comes, what won’t be significant is what we have achieved or not, or how relaxed and comfortable we are. It will be where we are at with God. And where we are at with God depends on us seeking the riches of God… or does it?
The riches of God have nothing to do with what we can or want to achieve. The riches of God have nothing to do with what we seek or what we find. The riches of God have already been achieved for us in the person of the Rabbi himself, judge and arbitrator, redeemer and saviour.
And then, what is required of us is not a striving for riches but a response to the riches already received and that response consists in the love of God and the love of neighbour. This response is not one that can be achieved or accomplished. It does not have a beginning or an ending. It is not all that complicated. It hardly seems possible that we might have missed it. Rather, it is just what it means to be overwhelmed by the gift of freedom that we find in Christ, by the gift of re-creation that we have been given in Christ, by the gift of renewal that comes to us through Christ.
Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”
The Rabbi just might have said, “You already have what’s coming to you. Sit back and enjoy it which is to say, respond to this gracious gift by honouring the one from whom it comes and nurturing one another in the riches of this grace.” And that my friends, is now and always has been the guts of the Gospel, and the inheritance of eternal life.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
On Taking Responsiblity
Someone comes to Jesus asking him to settle a dispute in the family. That is, after all, one of the things that rabbis could be called upon to do. And yet, in the tradition of the wise judges, a dispute settlement is never just that. It’s also a teaching moment. So, as is quite common in rabbinic discussion, the teacher turns the question back on the seeker, the student—“Friend, who set me to be judge or arbitrator over you?”
“Friend, who sets me as judge? Perhaps it is you. You are the one who seeks. But what is it that you seek? Do you come seeking wealth? Be careful of your greed. You might spend a lifetime seeking wealth, only to discover that you have never enjoyed life. What is it that you seek in this request for judgement? Is it worth more than your relationship with your brother?”
As humans, we are often tempted to appeal to external authorities for gain. And yet, what is the gain that we seek? Jesus asks the seeker to really examine the priorities in life; and to consider the request that is made—“Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”
This passage reminds us to be careful in our appeals to divine judgement and arbitration because we just may find that that judgement falls on ourselves because our priorities are skewed. It asks us to take seriously God’s call to relationship in the entirety of our lives—even in situations of the seeking of judgement and justice.
This passage also reminds us of God’s mercy, because surely if judgement was truly made, none of us would be found innocent in our actions and in our motives.
This passage invites us to focus on the things that are important in a life centred on God; and to set aside those things that don’t fit.
This passage invites us to take responsibility for God’s judgement, which is God’s mercy, in our interactions with others.
“Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you? It is better that you take responsibility for your own decisions, because those decisions are what makes your life the life that it is—one centred on God; or one dedicated to building bigger barns.”
“Friend, who sets me as judge? Perhaps it is you. You are the one who seeks. But what is it that you seek? Do you come seeking wealth? Be careful of your greed. You might spend a lifetime seeking wealth, only to discover that you have never enjoyed life. What is it that you seek in this request for judgement? Is it worth more than your relationship with your brother?”
As humans, we are often tempted to appeal to external authorities for gain. And yet, what is the gain that we seek? Jesus asks the seeker to really examine the priorities in life; and to consider the request that is made—“Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”
This passage reminds us to be careful in our appeals to divine judgement and arbitration because we just may find that that judgement falls on ourselves because our priorities are skewed. It asks us to take seriously God’s call to relationship in the entirety of our lives—even in situations of the seeking of judgement and justice.
This passage also reminds us of God’s mercy, because surely if judgement was truly made, none of us would be found innocent in our actions and in our motives.
This passage invites us to focus on the things that are important in a life centred on God; and to set aside those things that don’t fit.
This passage invites us to take responsibility for God’s judgement, which is God’s mercy, in our interactions with others.
“Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you? It is better that you take responsibility for your own decisions, because those decisions are what makes your life the life that it is—one centred on God; or one dedicated to building bigger barns.”
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