Sermon for Advent 1 - with thanks to Bill Loader

Reading:  Mark 13:23-37

Be alert – keep awake – the words of this morning’s gospel ring-in the beginning of the church new year.  As the calendar year moves to its close with its contradictory challenges of the busyness of the festive season, and the laziness of long summer holidays, the church calendar offers a different message:  be alert, keep awake – not for busyness, not for parties and plans, but in response to an anxious world, in which huge numbers of people are suffering and hope is in short supply.

Here in Aotearoa, we wonder what changes (for good and for ill) will occur, as a result of our apparently innocent actions of placing orange ticks on voting papers yesterday;  hoping against hope for decreasing debt, poverty and multi-national control; yearning for governing principles of compassion, justice and kindness.  And on this Sunday, as we launch the Christian World Service Christmas appeal, we find ourselves confronted again with the appalling number of people in this world, for whom deprivation is a constant in their lives. 

It’s within this context we visit what Bill Loader calls “a text of defiant hope in the context of suffering.”[1]  We can recognise suffering; can we supply the hope?

Mark’s gospel emerging out of suffering that “is nearly two millennia distant from us” is as distant, for most of us, as “the terrible suffering of poverty in many parts of the world”.  Into that place of suffering, the gospel writer lifts hope high – defiantly.  The people of Galilee and Judea are assured there is hope for them: peace and justice will come.  The human one, the one we know as Jesus – the so-called ‘son of man’ – is the source of this hope. 

As people of faith from a very different context, from a very different culture, we hear this promise of hope and are invited to share in it – to share the yearning for it – and to live out our lives in an attempt to bring that hope to reality.

And yet, the gospel reading is such a difficult one for us to hear today.  All this prediction of the end of the world – the sun will be darkened, the moon won’t give out light, stars falling from the heavens – and the son of man coming in clouds – all of this doesn’t make a great deal of sense to us today.   To shed light on this challenging reading, I want to share with you some of New Testament scholar, William Loader’s, thoughts. 

Professor Loader writes:  “Mark’s hearers would have known about oppression. The earlier part of the chapter alluded to the horrendous consequences of the Jewish revolt, 66-70 CE, which ended with the Romans starving out Jerusalem before breaking through and destroying the temple. They were in a good position to read the signs of the times. In Mark’s view their times must be the last times. It is very hard for most of us to walk in those shoes. What does it mean to feel that things are so bad the only hope is going to the end of the world? The poetry of pain and despair, the fantasies of escape and resolution, challenge us to silence, to listening, to action.”

Mark’s context helps us as we consider what this might mean for us today.  It’s helpful to realize that “Mark’s hearers are at one remove from these [horrific] events. They, at least, have time to gather and hear. Mark has had space to reflect and write.” As we think about our response to the Christmas Appeal, “We can give ourselves a hard time about not being right there where it bleeds, but nor was Mark, nor probably [were] most of his hearers. …The mandate is then not to ignore what is happening in the world, but to think about it, to watch, to live in the light of it and in the light of the hope which is beyond it.”

“To do so is not to focus on predicting the future in a kind of ‘I know what’s going to happen’ game, where I and my group indulge our powers of prediction or claims to privileged revelation and get a religious buzz out of applying biblical prophecy and the fantasy of believing we know. It has more to do with living with the authority which hope gives. People who have the time and space to articulate and reflect on what is going on in the oppression of people, whose suffering most often renders them inarticulate, have a crucial role for change in the world. Watchful living has less to do with speculation about the end of the world and more to do with” living out the Way of Jesus…. “Readiness has as much to do with being ready for life as it has to do with its end.”

“In their quaint way [the people of the first century] depicted global change drawing on images and symbols which mean little for us today. Their wisdom was to recognise that there must, indeed, be macrochange, if life is going to change for the better for most people. For us, the global movers are not angels and demons, earthquakes, and celestial disturbances, but [governments and] international gatherings of powerful nations able to make major decisions about poverty and the survival of the planet as a habitat. Recent crises, including the financial one, have called into being new levels of global cooperation. Espousing hope, is addressing it at both the microlevel of our particular setting and the macrolevel of global change.”  Active participation in and appropriate challenge to the decisions of government and generous giving to the Christmas Appeal are some of the many ways we can enable hope today.

“In Mark’s day to ‘watch’, was to live the life of a disciple with an eye to what is happening in the world and probably with the strong expectation that history was approaching its climax. 2000 years of failed guesses and expectations have sobered such predictions, and rightly so. But with that has all too often come a withdrawal from the events of the world, not to speak from the cries of pain, so that not much watching really happens except watching one’s private footsteps and moral goodness or watching only for the terror which might strike us - while so much of the world lives the sustained, unspectacular terror of deprivation. Just having a ‘good’ sleep… is good and harmless and may have many other marketable qualities like being peaceful and stress free. It makes for attractive religion, but it has little to do with the engaged alertness which recognises the new [growth], feels the shaking, and sees what the powers of this world are doing.”

“Today’s Gospel reading, purporting to be “Jesus’ last words, become our first words in the Church’s year, a call to be awake to what is happening in our world and to be looking for and in tune with the one who comes”.  As we enter this new year, this time of Advent waiting, may our living and our speaking indicate our willingness to be alert to the suffering of the world and be actively defiant in our hope.  In this way, we bring in Christ’s new world. 

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[1] This sermon depends on, and quotes extensively from, the Lectionary resource prepared by Professor William Loader of Murdoch University, Perth, Australia.  Accessed 26 November 2011. http://wwwstaff.murdoch.edu.au/~loader/MarkAdvent1.htm

Communion Reflection for Reign of Christ (Christ the King)

Readings:  Ephesians 1:15-23; Matthew 25:31, 34-41

It happened last year in Sweden – but it could have happened anywhere in the world.  

It “began as a parking lot quarrel, something that should not have, but did, escalate into a major confrontation that resulted in physical violence and death. An elderly woman was pushed to the ground, struck her head on [the] pavement, and two days later, died. The woman was a native-born, Swedish citizen of the city; her assailant a recently-arrived Muslim immigrant. Almost immediately, tensions between the local citizens and the immigrant community spiraled out of control, fueled by hate-filled Facebook pages, sensationalized media reporting and politically-motivated rhetoric by community leaders.   

Ultimately, reason, sanity and goodwill prevailed and the community was able to begin binding its wounds through dialogue and humane leadership within both the local Christian and Muslim communities.”[1]

Why?  Why, does there have to be such hatred and violence within our society. And why does it happen so often between people of different religions and beliefs? 

There are so many answers one might give – whole communities, cities and countries struggle to understand how we, members of the human race, can turn on our own species with murderous intent.  It’s so easy to blame others for the violence of the world.  And, in this election season, it’s even easier to blame the politicians.   But, I want to suggest tonight, that we look to ourselves, and our own tradition, to ask, could we be contributing to the violence of the world.   Is it possible, that elements within our Christian tradition might predispose us to hostility, arrogance and aggression? 

“Trying times, in Jewish tradition, have always called for self-examination. In Hebrew, it's called Heshbon HaNefesh, or soul searching.

Soul searching is not about letting those who [commit the violence] off the hook. It is not about letting those who contribute to the culture in which [violence] seems more reasonable, off the hook either. But it is about looking inward to address those things which really are within our control, rather than simply raging about those things which are not.”[2]

Clearly, the message of Jesus contradicts all violence. Love your neighbour as yourself, love your enemy, do good to those who hate you – all these teachings challenge us to live the way of non-violence – of peace, compassion and love.  And yet, our Christian history (both ancient and contemporary) is littered with episodes of extreme violence in the name of God.

What is it about the Christian tradition that allows such violence to rear its ugly head?  

I dare to suggest that there is a stream running within Christianity that is arrogant, self-righteous and triumphalist.  This perspective endorses violence.  It can be supported by texts found in the Bible, it is present in some of the doctrines and liturgy of the church.  Oh yes, it’s there, it can be used to justify hate, judgement and destruction.  And yet, there is another stream, in my opinion a more compelling and persuasive stream, also running within Christianity; one that is compassionate, generous, hope filled and unconditionally loving.  Within this part of the Christian church, we choose to nurture ourselves within that stream.

On this Sunday, in which the Church celebrates the Reign of Christ (or, as often named Christ, the King Sunday), these two contradictory streams compete for our attention.  If we are to live out our Christian lives with authenticity, these contradictions must be considered – and choices made.

Let’s look, for a minute at the stream which does endorse righteous violence.  An example may be found in the old hymn book[3] we used to use in this church.  Let’s look at Hymn 479: “Who is on the Lord’s side, who will serve the king”.  I invite you to read the words through, as Karen plays the tune on the organ. 

With its tune name “Armageddon”, there’s no question, this hymn celebrates the righteous way of the Christian.  We are on the Lord’s side against the foe – that is, all those others who are on ‘the world’s side’.  The battle lines are drawn; only one side – ours – will win.  Such hymns encourage us to claim superiority over all who are not Christian; they justify violence against others who are different from us; they can lead to words of hatred, escalating to acts of violence.  Where, in this hymn, is the gospel call to offer compassion to ‘one of the least’ – where is the Christ who nurses hope, restores and heals, about whom we sang a few minutes ago[4]?  If our faith is to make any difference in our lives, what we sing, how we pray and what we believe is important.  To worship, using the language of Christ the King in battle, can only nurture violence in our hearts, in our lives and in our world.

It’s very tempting – and satisfying – to expel that which we cannot embrace.  We have a strong sense of identity, when we know whose side we’re on – it affirms us ... but such self-affirmation comes at a huge cost.  For, when we take sides, all those who are not on our side are wrong – they are to be cast out – to be thrown into the fires of judgement and destruction.  If our lives are shaped in the Christian Church by this kind of thinking, it is relatively easy to take the next step of acting out in violence against those who hold different beliefs, those who follow different ways, those whom we don’t like, or think are wrong.  Setting up ‘us’ and ‘them’ is so easy to do – but it’s not life-giving and it is not the way of Jesus. 

For the Reign of Christ, or the kin-dom of God, is about participating in a different dream.  It’s a dream of healing and wholeness held out and offered to us in the midst of our pain, woundedness and brokenness; it’s a dream of peace on earth, joy, hope and good-will among all people.  It’s a dream, which we bring about by shaping our lives within a context of Holy Love.

On this, the final Sunday of the liturgical year, the Sunday before we enter the Season of Advent, we are called to remember an alternative to violent power and hatred – an alternative way of being community.  The one we follow calls us into a community of feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, healing the hurting – this is the kin-dom of God.   So, let’s not uphold traditions that shape us in ways counter to the gospel; and let’s not wait for politicians to change the world; let’s be the change we want – and live out the transforming way of Jesus, being the Body of Christ, which we will receive from this Table.

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[1] “From hate to healing in Sweden.  And beyond”  Dirk Ficca info@parliamentofreligions.org November 19, 2011.

[2] Unattributed quote from February 2011

[3] Church Hymnary Third Edition.

[4] “Wounded world that cries for healing” Shirley Murray Faith forever singing

Musings on the Gospel in the light of All Saints: November 6, 2011

Today we have several things happening during the service.  I invite you to bring these various strands together to make them the filter and the focus for the Gospel reading.

1.       Today we celebrate All Saints Day.  We remember particularly those who have walked beside us with love – carrying the Christ light for us in the night-time of our fears – being as Christ to us.

2.      Today we are celebrating the confirmation of two young people, who are committing themselves to following the way of Jesus.  Hamish and Nicholas are announcing today, publicly that they will carry the light of Christ in their lives.

3.      Today we will be commissioning Clare and Nicholas as they set out on journeys that will take them to Myanmar – living and working, sharing and living with students at Tahan theological college.  In this task, they demonstrate their commitment to carry the light of Christ into the journey of their everyday lives.

And into this context we hear a parable of Jesus, as told by Matthew.  Scholars are divided as to whether or not this parable ever came from the lips of Jesus.  It may well be that this particular one is a later construct – created for a church that expected the imminent return of Christ.  And, of course, our context today is so different.  Some two thousand years later, we are not particularly interested nor convinced by discussions about the so-called second coming of Jesus.  We 21^st century followers of Jesus’ Way are much more interested in how our lives and the lives of other people – and, indeed the whole creation – can flourish with meaning, wholeness and love.  We can therefore be tempted to dismiss this morning’s reading as irrelevant and meaningless.  And that would be a great pity.   So I invite you this morning to hear this parable – not necessarily through the lens of the Matthean Community, but in the light of our context – of this All Saints, Confirmation and Commissioning Day.

The kin-dom of God, Jesus suggests, is like a wedding – a time we would understand to be of joyous celebration when hope is at its highest and love is at its brightest.  Living the way of Jesus, the parable might be understood to say, brings about all the joy and love symbolised in a wedding celebration.  But, of course, we all know, life’s not always a celebration – sometimes things go very badly.  And in this parable, some of the pitfalls are spelt out.  In the culture of this story, the young women have an important role to play in the celebratory moment – they have to be ready with their lamps burning, when the bridegroom comes.   They have one responsibility in participating in this celebration: to stock up on supplies so they will be ready when needed.  But it all turns to custard.  The bridegroom is held up, some of the women are caught short – they hadn’t allowed for the extra time it would take.  They just hadn’t prepared themselves properly.

Australian scholar, Bill Loader reminds us this story “is not about 2000 years of trying to whip up expectations that Jesus just might come very soon.  It’s about sustaining the life of faith in the long haul.”  It’s about how our beloved saints kept their faithfulness going right through to the end of their lives.  It’s about the sustenance of faith that Hamish, Nicholas and Clare (and of course, all of us) will need for the days ahead.  It’s about being prepared for our life journey so that we can be as Christ to each other until we’ve seen this life-journey through – right to its end.  Bill Loader suggests the parable tells us that: “Just because we’ve had lamps in hand that have burned well at one time in our lives, is no guarantee at all that they will continue to burn – and keep burning into the future.  Having been a Christian once – having been one who has carried the light for others in the past – means nothing if it is not a continuing part of our being.  Matthew”, Professor Loader reminds us, “is interested in enabling people to live in a relationship with God which has continuing significance and continuing life.”[1] 

Listen for the Gospel:

The Gospel Reading Matthew 25:1-13

‘Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, “Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.” Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, “Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.” But the wise replied, “No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.” And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, “Lord, lord, open to us.” But he replied, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you.” Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.

           

None of us is always wise; none of us is always foolish.  The parable emphasises the extremes, to invite us into a thoughtful consideration of our own lives.  So let’s take up the invitation of the parable, and consider our own journey of faith, the relationship with God we have already established, and the journey we would like to travel for the rest of our lives. 

You might like to close your eyes as you imagine yourself into the parable as one who holds the light:  A prayer of the heart– choosing the illuminated life.

We watch

from noontime on

the lengthening of light.

While each of us

our separate outward paths

pursues,

inside our souls

we wait

with one desire:

this night to be a light for God.

We watch

gold ochre haze

soft-sift vermilion sun

until from pearl-eyed day

pure light like flannel fades.

Our lamps take up the fire.

We watch

our gentle, guileless,

flame-thrown light,

like garland flowers

lily white with hope,

adorn our weary way

with eager confidence.

We watch

for princes’ sandaled feet,

for gay embroidered robes

all crimson stuff or blue.

Where are the shining faces,

raven hair, and golden mouths

that seek our light

to tell us God is near?

We watch

our fire’s unseen light.

Could God not know we wait?

Footpad sleep steals down the path

to snuff the watching out

just long enough to damp the

short-wicked urge that burns for God.

We grope

dishevelled

by the cry to wake

and meet our God

with light.

For those with urge

to spare they quickly rise,

renew their lamp’s bold flame,

and set their eyes on God.

For those of us with

no more urge at hand,

no borrowed fuel

can rouse our shrunken flame.

Unless we wake

within our soul

the longing urge of love

that burns unceasingly for God,

our well-intended flames

will lapse each time we wait

and leave our lamps

to stand invisible to God[2].

A minute of silence for reflection

And so we come to the litany of remembrance for All Saints Day.  This is a time when we acknowledge all the saints surrounding us – those who have died and those who still live and who sustain us in our faith, enabling us to keep tending our lamps of faith – helping to wake within our souls, the longing urge of love, that burns unceasingly for God.

We pray in remembrance  ... We pray in hope ....

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[1] http://wwwstaff.murdoch.edu.au/~loader/MtPentecost21.htm

[2] “Prayer of the Heart” from An Improbable Blessing Maren C. Tirabassi and Joan Jordan Grant p.210-211