Luke 12:49-56

"Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”

The words of Jesus from this week’s gospel reading are quite confronting. They do not reflect the notions of God we have cultivated in our progressive Protestant churches, which prefer a God who is ‘nice’, and a Jesus who is meek, mild and humble. Luke’s Jesus is having none of this sort of thinking. Instead, he offers something of what it will mean to redeem a world that is anything but nice.

It is evident from the many things that trouble our world, things such as war, famine, and oppressions, that we are not yet living in the kingdom of God where goodness, beauty, and just and life-giving opportunities are there for all. Our world is instead broken and scarred, offering death rather than life to many people and many other living things. Our structural systems are exploitative and non-sustainable. Luke’s Jesus is saying that redemption can only happen when such systems are confronted and destroyed by apocalyptic fire, as this is necessary for new life to emerge. Jesus comes not to stir up a nice world but to shatter the disturbing and death-dealing structural systems of a world that stifles life.

It is no wonder that Jesus' call for redemption stirred up division during his time. How do we hear this call today? What are the ‘signs of the times’ we should be looking for today in a world that is not only battered and broken, but that also increasingly rejects the church?  

The words of this Lukan Jesus remind us that it is only when we set fire to the old that the new can emerge. It is only when we challenge the traditions, structures and habits that no longer serve us all well that we can start to change what is wrong.  Change is only possible at the edge of chaos, and perhaps this is what Jesus meant when he spoke of bringing fire and division to the earth. Jesus came to cause chaos and change because business as usual was no longer an option for ensuring all would have life.

Many of us today are materially rich and spiritually poor. Money and power continue to obscure what should be the important values for humanity. A world which relies on exploitation and oppression to run its economy at the expense of others' basic needs is a world that needs the disrupting influence of the gospel.

In a world whose systems do not encourage a flourishing life for all, the chaos brought by the chaotic words of Jesus might just constitute good news. This gospel passage calls us to be witnesses to this good news, and to the chaos that represents God’s consuming and compelling presence.

Reflections on Isaiah 1

"I hate your new moons and your appointed festivals." These are threatening words from Isaiah. Whenever I read them, they make me uncomfortable, because I find the ritual of worship and the Christian calendar of seasons and feasts very meaningful. I understand and appreciate the Christian tradition, how it marks the year into times of pilgrimage, penitence, remembering and rejoicing. It encourages us to pursue spiritual transformation on our faith journeys. Our Sunday worship is hallowed by centuries of practice by faithful people.

While we no longer offer animal sacrifices, preferring to offer prayers instead, Isaiah still has a point. Because our hands are still bloody with structural wrongdoing – and I say structural because Isaiah’s problem is communal worship and lack of action, not individual in this passage. God would not pleased by worship that begins and ends with Sunday, because if we aren't also pursuing justice as a community of faith, our rituals are meaningless. Worse than meaningless, because they delude us into thinking that attending church means we have fulfilled all righteousness as Christians even if our world is unjust, and war and famine and discrimination and the consequences of climate change rage around us.

I have always loved liturgy. As a minister, it is part of my work to structure it and create content in such a way that it hopefully connects spiritually with people. Through the Christian sacraments and rites of passage, and the ancient texts of the bible, the hope is we will develop a meaningful relationship with God. But when I read Isaiah's words, I have a sneaking suspicion that he is right. Too often faith begins and ends with Sunday worship

Isaiah was a prophet, and it was the job of the prophets to speak truth to power.  In many ways, the prophets were the conscience of the kings and the rulers. Here, Isaiah is saying don’t think you can rely on the idea that performing the right sacrifice makes you good with God. Observing the festivals doesn’t make you a faithful person.  God is demanding more than that. God is demanding justice and right behaviour as a flow on from religious practice. If you aren’t acting justly, says God, then it doesn't matter at all whether you're doing the right sacrifices at the right time, or saying the right prayers at the right feasts or singing the right psalms. It isn’t going to cut the mustard.

No doubt this statement from Isaiah brought him into conflict with the priests, whose job it was to oversee the sacrifices and rituals. I can’t imagine they would be pleased with these words at all. Ancient Jewish priests formed part of the ruling class that oversaw not only the Temple, but the law and how it functioned in society. Isaiah’s statement is making it pretty clear he saw the priests as part of the structural problem of injustice.

We have neither priests doing sacrifices or official prophets in our world today. But the words of Isaiah still resonate. What exactly do our rituals mean today? How do we hear and practice God's call for justice?

For me, Isaiah's furious words have a lot to say to us. There are many examples of structural injustice in our world today. One that seems to becoming more obvious and more frightening is that of structural racism.

How many of you watched the recent documentary about Adam Goodes, The Final Quarter? Ian Darling’s documentary follows AFL legend and 2014 Australian of the Year Adam Goodes, who spent the last three years of his career being booed by the public and demonised by the right wing media. I am suggesting that it was because Adam was a proud Aboriginal man.

Adam Goodes was born in South Australia, to Lisa May and Graham Goodes, His father is of British ancestry; his mother is an Indigenous Australian (Adnyamathanha and Narungga) and is one of the Stolen Generation.

Goodes' parents were separated when he was four; his father moved to Queensland while Goodes moved between South Australia and Victoria with his mother. It is probably safe to say that Adam Goodes, though his mother, knew the trauma and racism of the aboriginal people through policies that led to children being taken, and the barring of Aboriginal people from participating in social and civic life.

It is estimated that between 1883 and 1969 more than 6,200 Aboriginal children were stolen in NSW alone. Australia-wide numbers are in the tens of thousands. This had profound effects on individuals and families, causing intergenerational trauma and a myriad of social and health problems.

The Last Quarter is a powerful film that holds a mirror to Australia and suggests we reconsider what happened on and off the football field.

In one review, it was said that The Final Quarter is “a painful reminder of the racism beating at the heart of Australia”. Goodes became a lightning rod for an intense public debate and widespread media commentary that divided the country. In the last three years of his career, during which Goodes was named Australian of the Year, he was accused of staging for free kicks, picking on a teenage girl who called him an ape, incessantly booed, and heavily criticised for performing an on-field war dance celebration after a goal. When the football crowds continued to turn on him, the Brownlow medallist left his beloved game.

John and I watched The Final Quarter on Peter Fitzsimmons’ recommendation. I had never understood until now just how bad things were for Adam Goodes. It was clear that Goodes’ words and actions simply did not match up with the way many conservative pundits and sports commentators displayed them. He was calm, gracious and sensible under fire.

The most telling comment came from a panel member of The Drum. He pointed out that we are fine with Aboriginal players as long as they play by the unspoken white rules and don’t rock the boat. Adam Goodes simply refused to do that, calling out racism and acting like a man proud of his culture.

We live in a nation marred by systemic racism and injustice. Mainstream racism is on the rise in Australia right now. And the statistics bear this out.

A new report suggests Aboriginal people are facing enormous pressure to lose their traditional culture in order to be successful in Australia. Many Aboriginal people feel they are not wanted by white Australia.

Over 90 per cent said Aboriginal people were talked to like they did not matter and were judged by stereotypes.

Many respondents said they did not feel comfortable going out in public, to restaurants, or to shopping centres because they were scared of being stared at and treated differently.

Only 16 per cent thought non-Indigenous Australians tried to understand Aboriginal culture.

Aboriginal people also found the criminal justice system and Australia's political system to be deeply racist because neither acknowledged Aboriginal traditions or lore.

In 2016, the unemployment rate for Indigenous people of working age was 18.4 per cent, 2.7 times the non-Indigenous unemployment rate (6.8 per cent).

Aboriginal suicide rate is six time higher than the rest of Australia.

As of 30 June 2018, there were 11,849 prisoners who identified as Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander.

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander prisoners accounted for just over a quarter (27%) of the total Australian prisoner population, yet they are only  constitute 2% of the Australian population aged 18 years and over.

Aboriginal people are much more likely to be questioned by police… When questioned they are more likely to be arrested rather than proceeded against by summons. If they are arrested, Aboriginal people are much more likely to be remanded in custody than given bail. Aboriginal people are much more likely to plead guilty than go to trial,
 and if they go to trial, they are much more likely to be convicted… they are much more likely to be imprisoned… and at the end of their term of imprisonment they are much less likely to get parole.

Unpaid fines, swearing or shouting in public are offenses a white person is very unlikely to be charged with, let alone jailed for. Dr Brian Steels, restorative justice researcher at Murdoch University said that “In all my years of research in criminal justice, I can tell you it would be very difficult to find a white person charged with shouting or swearing”.

The system is patently unfair and cannot be understood in any other way except racist.

Australia is never going to achieve reconciliation or justice for Aboriginal people until it comes to terms with its history. Not only was the land of the first peoples taken from them and colonised, they were killed in enormous numbers. The Killing Times, a Guardian special report using stories told by descendants on all sides, attempted to count the human cost of more than a century of frontier bloodshed.

Two historians, Raymond Evans and Robert Ørsted-Jensen, have concluded that in Queensland alone – the epicentre of frontier war in the mid-19th century Australia – at least 65,180 Aboriginal Australians were killed from the 1820s until the early 1900s. Considering that their research focuses on Queensland alone, their findings come with the disturbing implication about the number of Indigenous Australians killed continent-wide is very high.

The written records where we have them, are chilling, as described in this letter from a Gippsland squatter, Henry Meyrick, to his family in England in 1846:

The blacks are very quiet here now, poor wretches. No wild beast of the forest was ever hunted down with such unsparing perseverance as they are. Men, women and children are shot whenever they can be met with … I have protested against it at every station I have been in Gippsland, in the strongest language, but these things are kept very secret as the penalty would certainly be hanging.

The truth of Australia’s history has long been hiding in plain sight. White Australia has the blood on our hands that Isaiah accuses us of.

While it is true that there is no place on this earth where perfect justice prevails, or where racism and prejudice are unknown, this is no excuse for Australians to stick their heads in the sand. The situation isn’t going to get better unless we do something about it.

White people are not as likely to be searched, or mistreated by the police. Through no merit of their own, white people are likely to be treated better than their non-white friends. No one will glare at them or follow them around in department stores, assuming automatically that they are there to shoplift.

Isaiah talked about systemic, endemic, structural communal wrongs, when he ordered people to “cease to do evil, learn to do good, seek justice, to rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow, the implication being that these things were not happening despite the religious practice of the people.

There is still a systemic racism endemic to our own time. where dark-skinned people are persistently suspected, mistreated, disenfranchised, incarcerated, and even killed.

Isaiah calls us to turn from evil and do good, and as part of our faith, to seek justice, not only for people who look like us or sound like us, but for all people; for everyone created in the image of God. This includes refugees, whose appalling treatment by the Australian government flies in the face of all religious teaching,

Isaiah demands that we create justice for those in need. If we don't, then what does it matter how meaningful our worship is? If we fail to live by Christianity’s powerful ethical and moral teachings, then we deserve Isaiah's condemnation.

If we don't work to change the systemic racism endemic to Australia, then we are no better than those who were making their sacrifices but didn't worry about the poor being cheated, or about people in power using that power to disenfranchise and oppress others.

It's our mission to work toward a future in which racism and prejudice are eradicated: not just at an individual level, but on a societal and systemic level.

It's our responsibility as Christians to make a better world, one that is more just for us and for our children, because we are all God’s children.

It’s our calling as disciples to recognise our worship is meaningless unless it compels us out into the world to take action.

I want to end with a quote from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, who once described racism as humanity’s gravest threat to humanity and as the maximum of hatred for a minimum of reason. In a statement that reflects Isaiah, he says:

When faith is completely replaced by creed, worship by discipline, love by habit; when the crisis of today is ignored because of the splendors of the past; when faith becomes an heirloom rather than a living fountain; when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion, its message becomes meaningless.

May we find the strength and the compassion to challenge what is unjust and to change what is not right. Amen.

Luke 12: 13-21

With the parable set for today’s lectionary readings, Luke strikes again, with what appears to be another blow to the well off. And indeed, this parable really does go right to the heart of modern consumerism and Western habits.

Just to recap, Jesus is telling the story of a wealthy farmer who has done well with his harvest, and even though he has an adequate amount, he decides he wants still more, so builds bigger barns to store more grain and goods. Just as he is congratulating himself on his prosperity and comfortable future, God appears to inform him that it has all been for nought. This is the only parable in Luke in which God directly addresses a character, saying: "You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?" (12:20).

Therefore, concludes Jesus, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”

Who do you align yourself with in this parable? As a gut reaction, I am really not too keen on this wealthy farmer who is congratulating himself on his huge harvest, and who is planning to pull down his barns to build bigger ones. I am not a fan of his hoarding for his own benefit and selfish pleasure. I know that in first century Jewish culture he should have been providing some of that harvest for the benefit of his poorer neighbours, to protect them from famine.

Yet how much of our lives is devoted to acquiring stuff? How much does advertising try and convince us that our lives would be better with a new gadget laden car, or to own a bigger or more fashionable home in a better area? I don’t think I have ever seen as many ads for luxury cruises than in recent months, which try and convince me life begins with a cruise in luxurious or exotic holiday destinations. Where my every need will be met so I can truly live. And many ads attempt to convince me I need to buy lots of new clothes and a new set of accessories every season, not to mention the latest get fit or labour-saving device for the home.

Slogans such as “shop until you drop”, “spoil yourself”, “you’re worth it”, and indulge in “retail therapy” abound. Google searches threw up About 3,240,000 results (0.47 seconds) for “you’re worth it”. It threw up about 3,010,000 results (0.42 seconds) for “spoil yourself”. All this seems to imply we live in a world where material goods and self-indulgence will make us happier, healthier, better looking, possibly younger and more relaxed people.

What's really frightening is that we are just a bit too close for comfort to the portrait of the wealthy farmer. After all, he is not a bad person. Luke doesn’t say he gained his money dishonestly, or that he cheats his servants, or even that he is particularly avaricious. The wealthy farmer is a person a lot like us. He has worked hard for his harvest and his money and wants to ensure his future and his retirement. His sin, if I can use that word, is not so much he has accumulated wealth as that he has put all of his faith in his wealth. He believes money can secure his future as an individual, and that he doesn’t need others or even God to help preserve him from want in his old age.

If we are honest, we should be admitting that many of us have thought in similar ways to this farmer. ‘If I only I had more money, if only my mortgage was paid off, if only my car was newer, or my house bigger, I would be happier and my life would be better.

For example, Australians have the second biggest houses in the world, having been overtaken recently by the USA. Analysis by the CommSec of figures commissioned from the ABS shows the average new home is 189.8 square metres, down 2.7 per cent over the past year. However, this is a bit artificial as people are buying more apartments due to huge house prices.

Australian detached houses that do get built are the biggest they have ever been. The average new house in 2016-17 was 233.3 square metres, 11 per cent bigger than 20 years ago.

The Wall Street Journal lists that the median size of a new home in the U.S. is 229 square metres, up 61% from just 40 years ago and up 11% in the last 10 years.

At just 15 m2 a person in Hong Kong has just a quarter of the floor space of the average Australian or American. Around six people occupy the same floor space in Africa and the Middle East as two would in the Australia.

(Statistics from The Urban developer)

Our consumeristic society strives to create an illusion that money and things guarantee our happiness, health and security. It silkily implies that we can be quarantined from everyday vulnerabilities and needs. It downplays the fact that we are vulnerable mortals who are ultimately dependent on others and God for our physical and mental well-being, which is why we have societies, communities and churches. French essayist, Michael de Montaigne said, “It's not the want, but rather abundance that creates avarice.”

If we cannot even see over the piles of possessions we have (or wished we had), what is that saying about where meaning actually exists in our lives?

Our society, based on the civil religion of capitalism, perceives greed as good and consumerism as desirable. Here in Australia, according to the news and our politicians, our happiness always seems to be dependent on the economy. But is this true?

In the Christian scheme of things, greed is a bad word, and money does not save. So why do we act like this is our real belief when advertisements entice us to acquire more?

In a blog on the website “working Preacher”. Professor David Lose says:

I know I don’t have enough stuff because I live in a world that regularly tells me that I don't have enough – stuff, that is. 'Television commercials, posters, magazines, the internet and all the rest tell me that I'm insufficient, incomplete, and not quite right on my own, but they also promise me that if I only buy this product or that – everything from toothpaste, a new laptop, wrinkle cream, or a better car – then I'll be complete. Our culture unequivocally equates consumption with satisfaction, possessions with happiness, and material wealth with the good life. Ours is a ‘love stuff‘ world. Trappings really do trap us.

Professor Lose is bang on the money. Like him, we know that this isn’t a description of life in ‘all its fullness;’ like him we don’t really believe possessions or material wealth is the true measure of happiness. Even if we wanted to ignore all the warnings on greed and accumulating riches in the bible, research that measures happiness shows that the wealthiest countries of the world are not at the top of the table. I also know that I have a lot more stuff now than I did thirty years ago, but it hasn’t made me happier or healthier. I know I own a lot more clothes than my grandmother did, who managed with a couple of older housework and gardening dresses, two second best and one best dress.

When we moved house the first time, we hired a small truck from Kennard’s to take our things to our new home. Seventeen years later, when we moved from Sydney to Wauchope, we required two large trucks and the removalist said it was the biggest move he had done in the Synod. We know theoretically that money and stuff won’t really make us happy, yet at times we still secretly believe that we will be the exception and that new thing is all we need to be fulfilled and content.

In the parable, Jesus says, " be on your guard against all kinds of greed." Not just ‘beware’ or ‘keep an eye out’ but "be on your guard." The Greek word used here and translated "being on your guard" is phulasso. It means to guard or watch, have an eye upon, to guard a person (or thing) that he may remain safe lest he suffer violence, be despoiled, etc. to keep from being snatched away, preserve safe and unimpaired, to guard from being lost or perishing, to guard one's self from a thing. It is an active watchfulness such as that of a shepherd guarding sheep against predators, or a watchman on the wall of a city upon whom the city’s safety depends against possible invaders. Greed, like a wolf or an enemy army, is to be recognised and repelled at every opportunity.

But Jesus does not stop there. He says we should also be "rich toward God". Note that the accumulation of treasure for oneself and being rich toward God aren't just thought bubbles in this story, but actions. Jesus is talking about what we do in our lives, about how we live out our faith, how we treat others and our environment, about how we honour God. Are we storing things up for ourselves, and primarily being consumers? Or are we using whatever we have actively to promote the values and principles of God's kingdom in the world? Richness toward God is measured by our outward actions, and by what we share, not by our accumulating things and what we keep for ourselves.

The rich farmer also made the mistake of thinking that he really possessed his great wealth although Jesus seems to be saying that the real situation was that it possessed him. And ‘So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God’ concludes Jesus.

For those of us whose lives are characterised by abundance, this teaching is a hard one. For those of us who have abundance, yet still seek to be disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world, what should we do? Why is Jesus so negative about what we could call the Australian dream of a suburban house, hills hoist and a backyard?

I am sure Jesus doesn’t really want us to give everything away and have nothing. But he is saying that greed and acquisitiveness are harmful and are not what we should ultimately invest in, beyond reasonably meeting our needs, and maybe some of our wants.

For many of us in the Western world, this is a struggle. Australia is an affluent country, where most of us are fortunate enough to live comfortably or even luxuriously by world standards. Our over-consumption is shown in the 64 million tonnes of rubbish we throw out every year, burying mountains of good food, clothing and electronics in landfill as we pursue the latest fashions and false dreams.

Ultimately, it is about choosing the priorities by which we will live. John van de Laar, on his website Sacredise, says:

The challenge is to recognise the powerful, and often destructive, role that money plays in global affairs, and to challenge our world leaders, our business leaders and ourselves to embrace a financial ethic of sharing and giving, over accumulating and ‘protecting’. Ultimately, in a world where economic performance is measured quarterly, it will be difficult to begin to embrace an eternal view of wealth, but if the voices of Christ-followers remain silent on this difficult, prophetic, Gospel call, all hope of a more just and equitable world is lost. … But, if we will allow the Gospel to challenge us and change us, we will find our hands opening, our trust moving from wealth to God, and our lives shifting from accumulation and protection, to sharing and giving.

This way we will create plenty by finding we can be satisfied with enough.

Pentecost should be one of the most joyous, and most powerful of the Christian festivals. It conjures up images of wind, of movement, of fiery red flames. Potent in its symbolism, it is not hard to imagine the spirit sweeping through the minds and lives and souls of those who received it, cleansing them, renewing them, and creating fresh vigour and hope.

The story of Pentecost as we have received it is a story of transformation, with many churches celebrating it as the true beginning of the Christian church. It is also a story about chaos. The disciples are sitting in a room waiting. They are somewhat anxious, have no idea what to do next, and probably fear for their future and even their lives. Into this situation sweeps the disruptive spirit, turning lives upside down, stirring up passions, generating antagonism and changing the thinking and the vision of the disciples.

Each Pentecost, I find myself asking questions about whether it still has the power and dynamism of long ago. I wonder if the spirit still sweeps through our churches in the same chaotic way. I ponder whether as a church, we are still receptive to the notion of the winds of change blowing through our buildings, our community and our traditions.

In modern times, inspiration by the spirit appears to have lost some of the force it seems to have had in the story in Acts. Nonetheless I think it has the potential to shift the church significantly, especially if we accept that the purpose of an encounter with the spirit is to create chaos in order to generate a place of possible transformation.

Research into change does show that change can only ever take place at the edge of chaos. Another way of putting this is that chaos and disorder provide a space and make room for the spirit to enter, a place where congregational vision for the future can be transformed, where the inflowing of the spirit can inspire people to take risks and commit deeds of greatness.

The presence of the spirit, as the disciples found, fills us with a new belief in their abilities, abilities that allow God’s words to be heard and understood by everyone, and for lives to be transformed. And this dynamic, living, powerful force will not only transform the lives of the faithful, but also the lives of those around them. The disciples and followers of Jesus were called to launch out into a new adventure, to walk on untrodden pathways, to go out in mission, to put aside their fear and uncertainty and to gain strength as a unified community. We are called to do no less.

The celebration of Pentecost challenges us to keep ourselves open to the spirit who seeks us. The spirit that, in the beginning, brooded over the chaos and brought forth creation; the spirit that drenched the community with fire and breath on the day of Pentecost is the same spirit that seeks to dwell within us and among us now. Amidst the brokenness and chaos and pain that sometimes come with being in community, the spirit searches for places to breathe in us, to transform us, to knit us together more deeply and wholly as the body of Christ, and to send us forth into the world.

May we continue to feel God’s breathe within us.

May we then blaze anew with the spirit.

Living in the resurrection

Today is the third Sunday in the season of Easter. The season of Easter is important, as it reminds us that the resurrection isn’t just about one day in the Christian 

calendar, nor is it about endlessly praising God for raising Jesus week after week. This season is about the new life that resurrection opens up for all who are part of the body of Christ. It is about the ongoing mission which the risen Jesus sends us as his disciples. Mission wasn’t just for the people in the stories we are hearing at the moment. Mission is for all of us here and now, in the communities where we live, work and worship. Mission is about transforming everywhere and everyone that our influence and resources can reach, including ourselves.

Our readings for this Sunday have this at their hearts. In the gospel, there are two stories – a miraculous catch of fish leading to a breakfast by the Sea of Galilee, and the commissioning of Peter.

Peter, not knowing what else to do after the miraculous appearance of Jesus after his crucifixion, has gone fishing. Maybe Peter was yearning for a time when his world was simpler, a time before Jesus called him out of his ordinary life and to a journey he could not have imagined for himself. After all, in times of trouble, we tend to default to old habits and ways. He and the other disciples have been fishing through the night, but as the dawn breaks, they have nothing to show for their efforts. An apparent stranger appears on the shore. He shouts at them to fish differently, to throw their nets on the other, unconventional side of the boat. Despite the fact they do not recognise this stranger, they do as he suggests, and that's when they find what they are looking for. There are two things to note here. The first is the disciples, the close companions of the earthly Jesus, do not recognise him. This is theme common to all the gospels in regard to the resurrection. Earlier in John, we find Mary mistaking Jesus for the gardener. In Luke, the two disciples on the Emmaus road fail to recognise their companion. In what is known as the longer ending of Mark, Jesus appears in different forms to various disciples. In Matthew, some of the disciples doubt it is the risen Jesus before them. There is actually a lot of doubting going on in all the gospels, and Thomas is not alone in his refusal to believe. The questions this raises for me are: do we recognise the risen Jesus when he is front of us, or beckoning to us from a place nearby? Or are we like the disciples, and fail to discern his presence? Are we more inclined to doubt than we are to believe that God is calling us to do something? What is it we need to do to be more receptive, more discerning, to the call of God on our lives? Perhaps the first thing we need to do is actually be actively looking for where new life is happening in our communities. Like Mary, we need to go searching for the Lord, and be prepared to be surprised where and in what form we find him. Secondly, John’s gospel is suggesting that we need to make adjustments to our practices in order to be the disciples we are called to be. When Jesus called to his disciples to “cast your net to the right side of the boat,” he is calling them to try something that on the face of it, has little prospect of success. It would have been a risk, and not the normal and accepted way of fishing. Have we become accustomed to fishing in accepted ways that no longer result in us catching much? Do we keep doing the same things because we think they work best, even if they no longer serve us well, because we believe they are the accepted normality? So maybe the next thing we need to consider when we are seeking the risen Christ is making some small adjustments in the way we do things, which can then lead to a different way of seeing. The act of pulling up the net, then moving it a few feet across the boat, and throwing it back in the same waters, on the other side not only made a difference to the catch of fish, it opened the eyes of the beloved disciple and Peter to see who the figure standing on the shore really was. What are the small adjustments that we can make to our lives, our thinking, our worship, our spiritual practices, our relating to family, friends, neighbours and the world, that might change an empty ‘catch’ to one that overflows? Can we accept Jesus’ call to keep fishing, even in ways that seem odd for us, in order to discover new growth and new life?

The characters in the story have learnt that Jesus will be found in unexpected places and in unexpected people, and that changing their normal routine leads to abundance of life lived out by serving and working in community.

God’s love, set loose in the world through the resurrection, needs our hands, our feet, our voices and our hearts to make it known and understood and transformative in our place and time. Like Peter, God is issuing us an invitation to change our perspective and cast our nets in different and unexpected places in order to feed the flock.

Are we are willing to have our lives changed, transformed, especially if it means disrupting familiar and comfortable patterns?

Can we embrace the resurrected way of life, and discover that our lives are not random, but that how we live and what we do matters? Do our actions, our attitude, words, and thoughts contribute to revealing God’s Reign in our world? Or do they keep God’s Reign hidden?

How are we to continue to encounter the risen Jesus?

When we make resurrection nothing more than a past miracle, or mythological story, or a hope for a future life after death, we take from it its power to impact our lives, and the lives of others, now. When we embrace resurrection as a calling to live daily in the power of God’s life, we discover that everything we do is filled with a sense of meaning, purpose and life. That is where we can begin to transform ourselves, our churches, our communities

and our world.

Revealing Revelation

For the next few weeks, the lectionary will be highlighting passages from the book of Revelation.  

The book of Revelation is one of the most misunderstood books of the New Testament. Its vivid imagery of the future judgement of humanity has led it to also being one of the most misused books of the New Testament, interpreted by apocalyptic groups throughout the centuries as evidence that the end of the world was at hand. It is much more likely, however, that this complex book was composed in response to the persecution of Christians by the Roman Empire, its various characters symbolising a contemporary entity – the whore of Babylon signifying Rome, and the beast its emperor Nero.  

The book begins with a matching set of seven letters to seven angels of a church. Each letter follows a standard pattern, and while each addresses specific matters, most refer to ‘patient endurance’, or ‘standing firm in the faith’, a reference to the persecution church members were experiencing. The reward for “holding fast” to their faith is the promise of eternal life and protection from the tribulations to come. 

The opening address of the letters identifies the words as coming from “the holy one, the true one”, a reference to the Son of Man (see 1:13–16), who states in verse 22:11 “I am coming soon”, echoing early Christian belief that Jesus would soon return to redeem the world. While the imagery of Revelation may seem strange and archaic to us today, in a world torn by war, poverty and greed, its message of keeping the faith and working for the kingdom must remain relevant.

There is no doubt Revelation is an odd book, full of mystery and eastern symbols and visions, an exotic glimpse of heaven by an unknown visionary in the genre known as apocalyptic literature. It is unlike any of the other New Testament books as we have them. It does not tend to be as well known as many other biblical books, except by people who claim to have unlocked its riddles and can confidently predict the end of the world. It is comforting to recall that none of them have been right to date. But how to make sense of it?

Strangely for me, it was a victorian English chapel when I lived in England quite some years ago that contributed a lot to my understanding of the intent of Revelation. John and I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to explore our temporary country while we had the opportunity, so we organised our study to include time for touristing around. On one of these tourist excursions, we visited part of south Yorkshire, where many fine ruins remained of various abbeys and castles. The particular place that we visited this day was a large Victorian estate, which included the picturesque ruins of a very large abbey. Also on this estate was the family chapel. From medieval times, the wealthy families considered it was proper to worship in their own family chapel, rather than mingle with the lower classes in the village churches.

This particular chapel was very striking. It had cost many 100s of 1000s of pounds, an extremely expensive building even by the lavish Victorian standards. It was built to honour the dead brother of the lady of the estate, who died in a Greek war. It was also built to echo the book of Revelation.

When we entered this little chapel at its front door, opposite end to the sanctuary area, it was like many other small English chapels that we had seen. It had a high ceiling, lots of wooden carvings, a stone floor and wooden pews. There were glass windows in the stone walls, typical pointed arch shapes.

As we moved towards the middle of the chapel, the woodcarvings became more elaborate, and a very ornate stone tomb, complete with life-sized effigies of the master and mistress of the estate, was placed conspicuously in the centre.

Once we passed this middle section, we found ourselves in the sanctuary area. And the chapel had dramatically changed. The sombre stone walls had been replaced by colourful frescoes, all depicting angels and the various scenes of Revelation. Each picture was decorated in real gold leaf. The wooden rafters had given way to a magnificent gold dome, elaborately painted and jewelled, decorated as well with real gold leaf.

Marble archangels peered down from various niches. The altar stood enveloped in rich clothes, gold leaf and beautiful images. The triumphant lamb, carrying its banner, marched across the walls. A gold tree of life grew across the walls. It was space of splendour, beautifully made, a magnificent space designed to create feelings of reverence and awe.

The whole chapel was meant to represent our human journey, from the plain and earth-coloured entry into life on earth, through the heavenly portals at death, and into the glorious realm of heaven.

We of course were suitably impressed with the beautiful art work and architecture, though I confess the lavish cost bothered me, especially when I remembered the plight of the poor at that time. And I also started wondering about whether it was realistic regarding life, death and heaven, and whether it gave the right impressions to the Christian people who ostensibly used it.

Revelation not only takes us right to the end of the bible, to the very edge of the collection of our holy scripture, it also takes us to the very edge of the system of beliefs that we call Christianity.

The chapel I have described to you is based on one understanding of Revelation. This understanding has as its starting point a very old belief of Christians in the early centuries. This belief holds that everything earthly is bad and drab, and everything heavenly is good and shining, and the quicker we can access the good and the shining, then the better it is for us. Inherent in this belief was the idea that only a very few, very good Christian people would inherit the shining city, with many others being shut out.  I want to challenge this understanding of Revelation; it actually has a very grounded theology despite the elevated imagery present in it, and also it is a very inclusive book, one that embraces many people.

While I am not sure how actually most of us live our lives, I am quite sure that most of us do not see our time on earth as merely ‘marking time’ till we get to the better realm of heaven. And in fact, this chapter of Revelation  describes something very different from this traditional understanding.

John, the writer of Revelation, knows that human language is incapable of expressing the reality of things in the eternal world. So he casts his book as a vision, a series of pictures. But he does not mean us to begin and end with these pictures. The pictures are symbols that point to the reality of God and the world. Let us examine the meaning behind the pictures.

The first thing we can note that all of Revelation’s statements about the end are really statements about God. As God’s word is the begining of the creation in Genesis, so God’s word here is the end itself. God does not bring the end, he is the end. And he is the beginning. God is around us and with us, from beginning to the end. Here John is saying something very important about human beings, God and Heaven. Here is no aerial city of the upper realms, peopled with spiritual beings. No, God has descended to the earth to ‘dwell with humanity, and it is declared that “God will be with them, and they will be my people.” God will be with us here, on the earth, at the end. Not up in heaven, but on the earth with the people. 

For John, God is always here among us now. So we can see that the notion of earthliness being dull, material and sinful is not what John menas at all. Rather, he is saying that God is amongest us on the earth, his divine presence is available to us directly, here and now, not just when we die and go to heaven. Life itself is a divine thing for John. What awaits the believer and the world at the beginning and the end is God, the first and last word. Beneath the imagery of pillars, gates, walls and ornament is John’s conviction that holiness lies with the people on the very account of God dwelling in their midst. John’s visionary city does not abolish or belittle that which is human, but fulfills humanity, completes it.

The second thing we can note is the inclusiveness of who is accepted into eternal life at the end of time. The new city on the new earth is a city where right and justice will prevail. It will be a world freed from the sins that infect the present world. So in 22:15, we find John’s ‘vice list’, which is governed by his historical situation of Christian persecution. Lack of courage in Christians under threat of persecution from the Roman overlords does not impress John, nor does giving in and acknowledging the emperor to be divine, as Christians were often pressured to do. John ranks such failures along with murderers and other social deviants. However, what is noteworthy about Revelation at this point is that John is not saying that everyone who has been guilty of these things are excluded fron the holy city; only that noone will bring these sinful practices with him or her into the holy city. The list serves to characterise life in the city of God, and is not a limitation on who will be finally there.

For John, everyone who can leave their failing behind is welcome in his city of God. And God is directly present to all those here in the city on earth, because all of it is holy. John feels all life is holy and God is present to all people at all times, not only at special times and places, and all of God’s people are priests. It is clear that John finds holiness in human community, and this community extends to all  people. This holy community is not populated by the chosen people, but all nations and people of the earth, even the ones that oppressed the church and opposed God’s rule are here pictures as redeemed citizens of the holy city.

So Revelation is not just about a beautiful and ornamental, shining heaven where only the very good or the very rich can enter freely. It does not present a picture that considers the earthly and the mundane to be inferior to the heavenly and the ethereal. Unlike the chapel on the estate in England, John does not intend us to see our goal only as the bright and glittering ideal of heaven. Rather, John wants us to see that life is holy now, that God is here in our midst, descended to earth as Jesus Christ, as the word that became flesh and came to dwell among us.

Unlike our chapel, which was clearly designed for a select and elite group, Revelation envisages a world where all who drop their profane ways will be welcome as God’s children in the holy city. Rich and poor, rulers and beggars, Christian and pagan. all are welcome into the paradise on the earth that God has created for his people.

Holiness is not just about envisioning or aiming for heaven. Holiness is about community, acceptance and the ever-present spirit of God around us. Holiness is in the here and now, a gift to be treasured in this lifetime. Holiness is about living our life on earth, treasuring our relationships, working with our neighbours, and reflecting the grace and love of God in our lives.

In the book of Revelation, it is important to remember that fear is the penultimate word, not the final one. The final word is one of hope and promise, full of the love and grace that Jesus embodied.

Good Friday

Good Friday was the day when life was raw,
quivering, terrifying:
A day of numbed emotions,
a day of blunt nails
and splintered wood,
of bruised flesh and red blood.
The day when hopes were crushed
and the price of freedom seemed too high.
What we contemplate this day is beyond words,
and beyond understanding.
We pray for the strength to stand
with Christ today,
in the midst of the horrors of betrayal and death.

Good Friday – what does it mean? How is it good when it tells the story of a terrifying and tragic death through crucifixion? The temptation is strong, to rush straight to the resurrection; and concentrating on the good news, jump straight from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday. To do this is to skip over the more difficult details of unjust suffering and death that Good Friday raises. Christians also tend to soften the potential grief of the Good Friday experience with the good news of Christ’s victorious triumph over death – something that was forced to my attention when trying to find Good Friday hymns that didn’t mention the resurrection.

God is not just found where there is joy, but also where there is suffering of the worst kind. On Good Friday, the world of Jesus and his followers became broken, both literally and symbolically. The story narrates that the world was literally broken by an earthquake, the tearing of the temple veil, and the broken body of Jesus. It also became broken symbolically, by the apparent disintegration of the movement that Jesus had started and scattering of the disciples.

Good Friday is the one day in the Christian calendar that deliberately brings us face to face with a God who is implicit in Jesus’ suffering, and who suffers with us. For most Christians this is anathema, as we rather like to believe that that God is all love and has no part of suffering. This not only ignores the fact that Jesus was allegedly destined to die in this rather nasty way by God, but actually ignores what the bible says on the matter. The book of Isaiah in verse 45:7 challenges the typical Christian conclusions about the true source of good and evil: “I ... the LORD ... form light and create darkness; I make weal and I create woe”.

Rather than a God overflowing with goodwill to all humankind, we find instead one who creates both light and darkness, good and evil, and who promises us “the treasures of darkness and riches hidden in secret places” (Isaiah 45:3).

What does this mean?

Good Friday is the day that acknowledges both ‘weal and woe’ and ‘light and darkness’ as being created by God. It simultaneously faces the terrors of the cosmos whilst defiantly claiming God is a God of personal love. It resolves the paradox of suffering not by deciding that God is indifferent to our fate, but by proclaiming that the same God willingly suffers that fate. It offers a new metaphor of brokenness as a gift, not a liability. In one of the great paradoxes of Christianity, God’s presence and divine consolation is found in the cross, in a story that has indeed become redemptive.

Surely the hidden treasures that God offers us are the new understandings we can find as we journey through darkness of Good Friday, where we are more vulnerable, and more open to both questioning and receiving wisdom than when we are pre-occupied with the busyness and seductive glare of our daylight selves.

Good Friday invites us to walk on a less travelled road, a darkened road where there is pain and doubt and suffering, a road that invites questions and encourages us to search, but that also invites us to consider that the our human longing for spring and new life is somehow fulfilled on a bare hill where a bare tree holds the body of a crucified God.  As Peter said, “Where else could we go?”