Sermon for Lent 1: 26 February 2012

A sermon dedicated to the memory of the Rev. Donald Feist, who died Ash Wednesday February 22, 2012– a man of great theological integrity, with whom I delighted in ‘God talk’[1]

This morning, we have been invited not to speak or sing the word “God”.  We’re doing this in an attempt to empty out all those unhelpful meanings associated with this difficult, complex and challenging three-lettered word; thus opening space for new understandings.  (Because it is likely to become difficult to understand if I don’t use the actual word, I will use the word ‘God’ during this sermon – after which, we will return to that open space of non-naming for the rest of the service).  

At this time of Lent – with its traditions of giving up, fasting, focussing on Jesus journey to Jerusalem - this emptying out seems an important thing to do.  Perhaps this Lent, instead of giving up on coffee, chocolate or alcohol, we might try doing a much more difficult thing – letting go some of our old ideas and assumptions associated with Christianity. These six weeks of Lent, in preaching and Monday night discussions, we’ll participate in this journey of letting go – as we explore a particular belief.  As a first step on that journey, an empty space has been created – a space into which our doubts, our questions and dreamings can be placed – a space where we might encounter the Holy Mystery, which shapes our lives in ways beyond our wildest imagining.  And so, into this empty space we have created, I now invite you to bring your rational minds and your imaginative hearts to a consideration of the Divine and what it might mean to talk of ‘God’ with meaning and hope in this 21^st century. 

Last Wednesday, at the Ash Wednesday service, as we commenced this journey towards Easter, we received the sign of the cross in ashes on our foreheads;  we were urged to leave the past behind and begin again with God.  But what does that mean – begin again with God?

What do you mean, when you use the word ‘God’? Is God, for you, the life-giving energy of Love, holding the whole world together, adding intensity and purpose to our lives, if only we’d let it; i.e. the Love described, in metaphor, in this morning’s Gospel – a Love, observed as coming on Jesus ‘like a dove’: breaking open old ways of seeing and opening to new possibilities.

When you speak of God, are you talking about “the way we human beings have of recognizing how the world is, as opposed to the way we know the world ought to be.” [2]  I think that’s the way the creators of the Noah story might have been thinking – knowing the potential for humanity to make a mess of the world, they tell of God-hopefulness: a God-awareness in humanity of what is – and what might be.  

There are many ways of speaking of God. Some are less than helpful.  Unhelpful ideas like: ‘God in the sky who hears our prayers and fixes things for us when we are good children… a supernatural power, always prepared to intervene in human history… the parent or judge [who] rewards and punishes …according to .. proper behavior.’[3]  In today’s world where there are plenty of believers and non-believers alike who hold these views,  I’ve been tempted to advertise this church as a place where “we don’t believe in that kind of God anyway” – but is that true? Have we really let go of those old, unhelpful images?  Do we still cling to them, subconsciously and uncritically – keeping them in place for a rainy day, when they might come in handy? 

And, you might be asking - does it matter if we do? I want to say yes – it does matter – it matters enormously.  For, the image we have of God shapes the way we live – expanding or contracting the potential for evolving, flourishing life.  Put simply, the image of God we hold makes us into the people we are. Franciscan spiritual director, Richard Rohr puts it this way:  “Your image of God, your de facto, operative image of God, lives in a symbiotic relationship with your soul and creates what you become. Loving people, forgiving people have always encountered a loving and forgiving God. people cynical about the very possibility of a coherent loving center to the universe …become cynical themselves”     

I remember, as an 18 year old – sitting down there near the front of this church, wondering what on earth was going on as we sang “his chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form”.  Even then, I couldn’t really believe in a God ‘all glorious above’ sitting on his throne, intervening occasionally from the clouds above.  It might have worked for another era ... but now?

Fred Plumer, President of the Centre for Progressive Christianity in North America challenges what he calls arrogant, superstitious and even an idolatrous assumptions. “With what we now know about the immense universe, black holes, evolution, and our teeny, teeny little planet, isn’t [it] time to change the entire paradigm? [he asks] Do we really think that there is some entity, some power that needs to be pleased? … Why would we assume that this “I Am” needs anything from us? Any such idea suggests a theistic and dualistic model that we must eventually let go of. We have not come very far when we think it is a big deal to call this entity “Mother/Father God…”

…I think we have had it wrong for a long time. I do not think Jesus was telling his followers how they are supposed to act or behave in order to please God. I believe he, like other inspired wisdom teachers, was offering his teachings about how to experience this thing we so casually call God. What did Jesus mean? We have no way of knowing, but I suspect he meant something very different from what we normally perceive. I believe it is far more likely … he told his followers that by living a certain way, by extending themselves on behalf of others, by loving generously, for example, they too could experience [the Great I AM][4]… Sacred Unity, All-ness or Oneness [of the Universe].

I do not believe .. Jesus’ teachings were channeled from God so that he could tell us what God wanted from us. Rather, they were the result of his profound life changing experience of a complete Unity of all life… of a peace and sense of completeness that evades words. Wisdom teachers tell us that this phenomenon cannot be known, but can only be experienced and anyone has the opportunity to have that experience. There are many paths and they are teachable. These can lead ultimately to an experience of that sacred, the Divine that I am certain many people are searching for. We could even call this “heaven on earth.”

So why is it so hard to give up the theistic concept of God? For some, it is because that God has been a comfort for them and in some cases, this model of God has been the only source of true love in their lives. But for the vast majority of people who hold on to that traditional God, the alternative is just too scary. We are talking here about a giant mystery, an unknown. And in the western culture, most of us are extremely uncomfortable with unknowns. That discomfort has led to some pretty amazing scientific discoveries, but it is no help in a truly spiritual journey….[5] That”, says Plumer, “is why I love Richard Dawkins and the rest of the New Atheist movement. Their sometimes brilliant, and, often penetrating work, is forcing more and more people to rethink what they mean by the Germanic word, God. And as they make us aware of the simplistic ways we are still thinking about this god in the sky, we can become more aware of the awesome mystery that lies before us. And there we may begin to learn the real meaning of faith – for with the help of a teacher, who has experienced that Grand Mystery, we can move toward something that can never be known but only experienced. And what an amazing journey that can be.”[6]   And so, I invite you over these next six weeks, into this amazing journey.  If you are interested in exploring further, come to the discussion tomorrow night …let’s not be afraid to let go our concepts and thus discover the “Great, living G**, never fully known, joyful darkness far beyond our seeing, closer yet than breathing, everlasting home.”[7]

---

[1] Just a week before he died, Don wrote, in response to a hymn Susan Jones had written:

“I understand myself now to be in a zone that does not involve dogma or doctrine at all.  There is still faith in the sense of big assumptions about how things are in the universe and in all reality, an acceptance that certain values (faith, hope and love, for example) are givens.  But I see all that as separate from, and different from, doctrinal propositions.  For me, there’s a huge and tragic irony in the way in which the Church, by denying the reality of death (We’ll meet again…) and talking so much about heaven and hell, has inhibited people from responding fully to the life we have.  Letting go of the ‘comfort of knowing’, which we hear in the creeds has freed me to perceive God present in life with all its richness and poignancy, in human relationships, in my enjoyment and interaction with everything around me.  And, I now say a loud “yes” to your closing line: ‘And find, in a different way, God is still near.’

[2] “God Talk” James Rowe Adams http://www.progressivechristianity.org/library/article.cfm?library_id=62

[3] “I Love Richard Dawkins!” Fred Plumer http://www.progressivechristianity.org/library/article.cfm?library_id=1082

[4] Alaha “God” according to Neal Douglas-Klotz an Aramaic scholar. Douglas-Klotz suggests that his Alaha term would best be translated as Sacred Unity, All-ness or Oneness.

[5] Plumer continues: That is why I find most people are uncomfortable with theologian, Dr. Gordon D. Kaufman, who concludes in his book, In Face Of Mystery: “…In religious myth and symbols, and in theological doctrines and reflection, we are dealing with matters of profound, ultimately unfathomable mystery; the ultimate meaning of human life, the final truth about the world and our place within it, is simply not available to us humans.”

[6] “I Love Richard Dawkins!” Fred Plumer http://www.progressivechristianity.org/library/article.cfm?library_id=1082

[7] Brian Wren “Bring Many Names”

Sermon for Epiphany 6: 12 February 2012

Readings: Mark 1:40-45; Psalm 30

I’ve heard it twice this week – and I think it might be true:  the church is not in good shape!  Both at the inaugural lecture at KCML[1], and again in reading a recently published book by North American writer Robin Meyers, the message being declared is: the church needs to change direction.

Meyers puts it eloquently:  “For centuries, the church provided all the answers to all the questions that anyone might dare to ask. It claimed to hold the keys to heaven and wielded absolute power over the forces of darkness. The church built humanity’s cosmological house, and most people were either content to live there or afraid not to. In the Dark Ages ...it was the church that had a monopoly on hope—if not in this world, then at least in the next. It existed to have the last word on all things and the power to hide its mistakes and cover its scandals.

“The Renaissance and the rise of science put an end to all this. In trying to silence Galileo [and later, Darwin], the church gravely wounded itself. If it knew less than a man with a telescope about the heavens, then what did it really know about heaven?” [If its creation myth wouldn’t stand up to rational enquiry, then what did it know about God?]   “In its persecution of saints, its rejection of mystics, its incestuous marriage to the Empire, its hypocrisy and paranoia about sex, its fear of allowing the common man or woman to read and interpret the Bible, the church has become for many a cartoon of self-preservation, institutional hypocrisy, and cosmic cluelessness.

“Yet humanity’s spiritual impulse remains... hard-wired into our brains as we seek transcendence in the midst of impermanence. Millions now call themselves “spiritual” but not “religious”—because they no longer trust the church as an institution. ...Every Sunday morning, countless people wake up with both a desire to go to church and a gnawing sense that it won’t be worth it. They know that they “ought” to go, but that if they do so it will be mostly out of habit or guilt rooted in childhood. Few wake with a sense of real longing or anticipation for what might happen. Many have accepted boredom as the cross one must bear for church attendance. They expect little more from worship than social respectability, often wrapped in the dull air of familiarity. The last thing anyone thinks about church is that it might be dangerous.

“.. Going to church is safe, not subversive. It builds character perhaps, but it does not threaten the status quo.  More passion is generated by a service that runs too long than by the destruction of the planet.... Gone is the sign of the fish scratched on the doorpost to mark another secret meeting of the Jesus People. Gone is the common meal that was intended to feed the poor. Gone is the idea that to be baptized is to become a pacifist. Gone is the idea that a Christian should [n]ever hang on to more than [they] need in a world where so many have less than they need. Gone is the radical hospitality that made the first Christians a smelly, chaotic, unruly ship of fools. Gone, most of all, is the joy.”[2] 

Ring any bells? 

And so, as a way into reclaiming the joyful, subversive way of Jesus, I invite you to consider how much of your thoughts, emotions and life experiences from this past week you have brought with you to worship today.  As a general rule, do you bring to church the ingredients of your daily life, with the expectation of making meaning, finding hope, having your daily thoughts, joys and sorrows, focussed within the horizon of mystery and possibility that is God?  Do you expect whilst here at church, for passions to be stirred, minds to be challenged, life directions changed and your next week focussed in strange new directions, which will enable the transformation of the world?  Or are you here primarily to find safety and respectability in the comfort and familiarity of habitual ritual, and confident belief?  I would hope we come here, week by week, our theological telescopes and microscopes at the ready, our hearts and minds open and alive to new discoveries of the evolving, emerging experience of Godness in our lives.  I would hope we come so that our very selves – and the world in which we live – will be transformed into a place of deeper compassion, restored justice and fullness of life for all? With the hope that we do come with that perspective, we can approach Mark’s Gospel-challenge, issued two millennia ago and offered again and again to those who want to follow Jesus, with an expectation that being church can be exciting and offers us a genuine reason for wanting to be part of a life-giving, joyful and subversive community.

In his brief and urgent account of Jesus’ ministry, Mark tells of healings and teachings piling up within a context of argument and misunderstanding.  From a 21^st century perspective, we might be sceptical:  evil spirits cast out, skin diseases and paralysis miraculously vanish, people at death’s door unbelievably restored to life.  But how different are these stories – in outcome, anyway – from the healing miracles we see today? We might use different words and give to them different explanations, but miracles continue to happen:  psychotherapy and psychiatry release people from their inner demons; chemo and radiotherapy restore people to life; surgery gives sight to the blind and enables the lame to walk.  And many of us participate first hand in the bringing about of these miracles.  Science and medicine have opened up amazing possibility for healing miracles, the like of which would astound our 1^st century faith forbears.  And yet, there’s more to Mark’s healing stories.  They have a twist – showing the healer in a surprising light.  For this healer puts himself on the line. Whether it be with 1^st or 21^st century miracles, rules and rational reasons can always be called on to justify the argument that healing and wholeness are restricted commodities.  But Jesus doesn’t see it that way.  His way is more challenging.  Like the religious leaders, who vehemently opposed Jesus’ work, like the disciples who constantly misunderstood, we too can become seduced by argument and misunderstanding from those not guided by Jesus’ subversive message.  Listen:

A leper came to [Jesus] begging him, and kneeling he said to him, "If you choose, you can make me clean." Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, "I do choose. Be made clean!"

 To be clean in this context is not about hygiene; it’s about wholeness and restoration; being embraced and welcomed back into community.  Jesus was freeing the excluded from the devastating detail of religious law, which pushed the ‘leper’ to the edges of society.  Jesus, choosing to subvert the rules, welcomes the one whom religion and culture had said was untouchable, unworthy, unclean.   Moved with compassion[3] (or as some ancient manuscripts read “filled with anger”, ‘which being the more difficult reading is also more likely to be the original one’[4]) reaching out and touching him – “Yes, I do choose” says Jesus.  “Be made clean”.

Robin Meyers suggests that “Of all the reasons given for the decline of the church in our time, the number one reason is often left unsaid: no one really expects anything important to happen... if the church cannot return to its radical roots—driven by a truly subversive anti-imperial message and mission again—then it deserves to die  ... the victim of its own intellectual, spiritual, and moral dishonesty. [5]

Is that where we are?  Do we really not expect anything important to happen?  I do hope not.  Certainly I see glimmers of excitement, where challenging, subversive choices are made.  I do see this community looking around, and like Jesus, being moved with pity, filled with compassion – and even anger – refusing to accept the status quo. It is that pity, compassion and anger which drives us as we seek change in so many different areas of our society: mental health care, binge drinking and family violence, to name just a few.  As we reach out to those incarcerated in the prison at Milburn; as we stand alongside those seeking democracy in Myanmar, we hear the often silent voices of those who plead with us, saying “If you choose, you can make me whole”.  To follow Jesus is to hear those pleas, to put aside the cultural assumptions, government restrictions, religious apathy and to say with him “I do choose; be clean, be whole.”  The Church which stands with Jesus, making that choice and acting on it, will be subversive and joyful – and will never die.

---

[1] Mark Johnston, “Uneasy Rider: challenges facing ministry of word and sacrament in a post-missional climate”, Knox Centre for Ministry and Leadership, Inaugural Lecture, 7 February 2012.

[2] Robin Meyers, The Underground Church: Reclaiming the subversive way of Jesus Jossey-Bass © 2012

[3] The New Greek English Interlinear New Testament Tyndale, 1990, p.123

[4] Mary Ann Tolbert in The New Interpreter’s Study Bible Abingdon, 2003, p.1808

[5] Robin Meyers, The Underground Church: Reclaiming the subversive way of Jesus Jossey-Bass © 2012

Reflection for Epiphany 5 - with thanks to Nicholas Haslam

Readings: Isaiah 40:21-31; Mark 1:29-39

We continue this morning, the theme we explored last week, of how we might become more aware of the presence of God in our community and in our daily lives.

Come and see[1]: 

Come and see the one who offers hospitality to the world

Turning a picnic into a feast.

A basket of bread and a couple of fish

and it seems there’s enough for everyone

Come and see the one

who takes the generosity of a child

and shames those who have forgotten how to share

into creating a feast

where wealth is discovered in the generosity

of just taking what they had

and offering it to their neighbours

Imagine what is possible in a world that can do that

and we’ve met the one who invites us to make that possible

Come and see

Come and see the one who offers wholeness to the world

Turning a meal into a healing

Accepting hospitality from his friends

And responding with generous compassionate giving

The healing of his friend’s mother in law escalating into healing for the whole community

Come and see the one

who was found in the house on the back street

and provides a model for living

where the economics are based

not on dollars but generous hospitality,
compassion, justice and fullness of life for all

Imagine what is possible in a world that can do that

and we’ve met the one who invites us to make that possible

Come and see

Last year, Knox Church Council invited us, as a congregation, to participate in a global partnership with the Presbyterian Church in Myanmar. We have been invited to Come and See – joining as we are able in the generosity of hospitality, healing and hope that we have seen in Jesus and which we are committed to emulating.  Nicholas Haslam and Clare Thomson accepted the invitation to go to Myanmar – to go and see – Nick returned just before Christmas; Clare has just recently left Myanmar and is now in the United Kingdom.  I’ve invited Nicholas to share a little of his experience.

“Before I begin, I’d just like so say a huge ‘thank you’ to everyone here who has donated time and money to supporting this project, and funding my trip. Your generosity has given me the experience of a lifetime in an opportunity to learn and grow. So thank you.

My experience in Myanmar was an extremely valuable insight into a culture totally different our own, and in so many ways. Yangon, to me, was a congested and noisy city, where you were always having to jump out of someone's way or avoid one of the numerous piles of potholes or rubble that littered the streets. However, the lasting impression there was not a negative one, as the city provided an insight into Burmese culture and day-to-day life, which revolves around Buddhism and the massive gold-covered Shwedagon pagoda in the centre of the city.

Everywhere I went from then on, I was surrounded by welcoming and friendly people. As soon as we stepped off the plane in Kalaymyo, we were greeted by The Rev. Ring Lian Thang, other leaders and elders from the Presbyterian Church of Myanmar and Pek and Joelle from Tahan Theological College. We were then taken to our guesthouse, which like most businesses in Myanmar is family-run, and we got to know the friendly staff there well.

Adjusting to our surroundings, we wandered off exploring dusty streets, passing by people’s homes where reactions to our presence ranged from friendly waves and laughing kids to stares of uncertainty or a shy smile. Several times, however, people approached us to practice their English and welcome us to Kalaymyo.

This interaction also gave us an opportunity to practice phrases in Burmese and the Mizo dialect. Again, reactions were mixed, but the odd enthusiastic reply helped a lot with the confidence! Even so, there was always a communication barrier, as English is not as well or widely spoken in Myanmar as in neighbouring nations, particularly amongst the older generation. This was frustrating, as there is always so much to see and question, however, people were often too shy or confused as to what we meant, leaving us disappointed.

That afternoon, a taxi (which was an old converted pick-up) took us to the theological college for the first time. After chatting and introducing ourselves to the staff, we headed outside and joined the students in games of volleyball and soccer, which was great fun, and an opportunity to get to know some of the students.

We joined several of the students the next day, in what was a highlight for me during my time in Kalaymyo. Our taxi dropped us off at the rural village of Taungphila, where we met a woman who invited us inside her home. Most of the space of her ground floor was occupied by a large loom, on which she’d just finished an intricately woven shawl. She’d spent 12 days, every day, all day, weaving the pattern, and without any hesitation, gave it to Angela.

This incredible act of generosity touched us all, and was typical of what we saw everywhere: that even though people were so poor and destitute, they were willing to give what little they could out of the kindness of their hearts. This was another reminder of how much Burmese society is a polar opposite in some ways to the Western world; so many of us get trapped in the competition of consumerism; always striving to have the better product.

After that, we walked through the breathtaking countryside; bamboo and teak rural dwellings on one side; rice paddies, wheat fields and the distant Chin Hills on the other. We were on our way to climb the low-lying hill of Taungphila, where each peak was marked with an enshrined Buddha image, apparently as a constant reminder to the people below of their devotion to meditation and the ideals of the Buddhist faith. I talked to a few of the students and then raced several young kids to the top, who had joined us as our unofficial guides.

I learnt heaps that day from the kids, students and much older staff, and was left with the impression that everyone seems to share a familial relationship with one another, even with complete strangers.

The Sunday morning service at Immanuel Presbyterian Church was a very formal occasion, where men traditionally sit on one side, women on the other. “Sunday school” is run during the service, which is aimed at educating adults, not children, to help people’s theological education and learning. The sermon was admittedly difficult to sit through, being entirely in Falam language and nearly 30 minutes long, but everyone was very eager to shake our hands and talk briefly afterwards. Strangely enough, no one wanted to stay around after the service, so there was nothing like the coffee and gatherings we have here at Knox.

That evening, we visited one of the staff, Puii, and her husband Maroa in their tranquil village near Tahan. I admired the strength and happiness of the orphaned children they shelter, most from families who could no longer provide a good standard of care for them. We played soccer in the “common area” on the edge of the village, being cheered on by hoards of English football-obsessed kids, and then returned to have dinner back at Puii’s modest home. We sat on the floor, and ate with fingers on a low table, with a single electric light above. Despite having to fold ourselves around a table obviously made for much smaller and more flexible people, the conversations we shared around the meal were memorable to me; in fact some of the most unforgettable moments were centered around food.

When I met the PCM representatives on the first day, we shared over Myanmar tea and dumplings, we often had lunch with Theological College staff and friends, and particularly the lunches we had with students at the College’s dining hall.

One evening, we shared the evening meal with Pana, manager of the Agape Clinic (which we’d visited the day before), and one of his friends, who was none other than the regional army captain. Sharing food with someone of such high rank would never have happened a couple of years ago, which shows just how much the country is opening up to political reforms. One day, I visited Pana’s newly-built three-storied house; a rare sight in Tahan. This gave an interesting insight into the massive dissimilarity between the comfortable lives of the rich and the often desperate lives of the poor, but the seamless blending within society outside of their homes.

From the youngest child to the much older adult, I was touched not only by people’s great generosity, love and kindness towards us, but by people’s care for one another. Walking through the market places and absorbing the sounds, the smells and the interesting (and sometimes disgusting – such as fried whole rat) food and items for sale, I discovered that peoples’ livelihood depends not only on what they sell and how much money they make in a day, but equally the interaction and the joy they get out of being with one another. I did understand that most people live under the poverty threshold, and many are desperate for a way out, largely thanks to decades of grinding, constant political oppression, but I couldn’t help but feel that no matter how oppressed someone may be; there will always be an unescapable love and care people have for one another.”[2]

---

[1] Adapted from “I have found” in Mucky Paws by Roddy Hamilton, 13^th January, 2012 rghamilton@ntlworld.com

[2] Nicholas Haslam: Reflection on Myanmar Visit, December 2011