Readings: Acts 6:26-38; John 15:1-8
“Abide in me,” John has Jesus say, “as I abide in you. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit.” I invite you this morning to consider how big our picture is of this abiding in Jesus; do we abide in a big enough picture to bring about Jesus’ life-giving vision of human flourishing – fruit in abundance? Last Sunday evening, I talked about the image of Jesus as Shepherd – and how tempting it is to soften the edges of the picture, creating a cosy, cuddly, teddy bear image, losing sight of the harsh, risky reality that is the truth for those who follow Jesus. This morning I want to continue that theme by asking the question: do we abide in a big enough picture – or have we domesticated Jesus’ message to suit our particular comfort?
At various times over the ages, both of this morning’s readings have been interpreted to reinforce closed down, arrogant, Christian elitism; but, both readings have also been used to explode awareness of God’s vision into a much bigger picture than any one of us could imagine. I’m less convinced by interpretations that create certainty and superiority, leaving no space for Spirit to break through; I’m suspicious of interpretations which confine God to our limited perspectives; I’m much more persuaded by interpretations, which leave space for the Spirit to entice, challenge and lure us into places we would not comfortably go on our own, but which bring about fullness of life. It’s into that risky, potentially-fruitful space that Philip steps in today’s resurrection story from Acts: an angel, the spirit, the God-ness impulse, directs him to a road he might not choose to take, a wilderness road, a road in which he meets a stranger – a foreigner – a searcher after truth. And here, out of his comfort zone, Philip is urged by the Spirit into conversation with someone from the very edge of the then known world, exploring together words of a prophet from an earlier generation. The man in charge of the treasury of Ethiopia and the man inspired by the resurrection story reflect on the scriptures, which speak “against human suffering created by unjust systems imposed by the powerful and the wealthy” This prophetic word, this “God-intoxicated voice of protest” [1] speaks into their present world – where the innocent continue to be led silent like sheep to be slaughtered or fleeced – in their humiliation, justice denied to them – their life taken from them. And Philip, willing to dialogue, open to the spirit, sees the connections between past and recent injustices and can tell the story of Jesus, who experienced firsthand such abuse and yet, who taught a way of transformed living, which brings justice and joy to the poor and healing to the broken. There, on the wilderness road, the possibility of life in its fullness is recognised and claimed: the foreign Court Official is baptised; both men have been transformed.
Where are we being nudged by the Spirit, as we hear this story? Do we have the courage, with Philip, to be lured by Spirit into a wilderness road, which might bear more fruit? What different way of thinking might the Spirit be pointing us to, as we seek transformation – in our own lives and in the lives of the strangers we might encounter along the wilderness way?
I think Fair Trade Sunday might be a wilderness way for some of us. Issues of justice - and especially economics and trade - get disturbingly close to politics (and we all know that politics and religion don’t mix!) Our discomfort can be so great we sometimes white-out any political overtones to the Gospel – unless, of course, they match our own party-affiliations. Usually, we are willing to accept the gospel message of personal transformation ... but demands for political transformation ... that’s a different story. Most of us, and, if I’m honest, I include myself here, don’t find this an easy place to go – down this particular wilderness road.
Marcus Borg invites us to consider why we in the church are so resistant to matters of justice. He suggests that many Christians are surprised – even startled – by the claim that the Bible is political and that the God of the Bible is passionate about justice. “We have often overlooked it;” he writes “and when it is pointed out, we often resist seeing it.” In calling his readers to open their eyes, Borg reminds us that since “the Roman emperor Constantine’s embrace of Christianity in the fourth century” and until very recently, the ‘powers that be’ [in our culture] were Christian and so the political voices of the Bible were muted and its political passion domesticated.” When interests of the State contradict the God-intoxicated voices of protest – and when the church colludes by proposing God’s justice is all about punishment of individual sins – and when the culture proposes that every person can pull themselves up by their own shoelaces – the gospel itself is destroyed; the strong message in the bible, which speaks out against ‘systematic injustice’ is closed down. Systematic injustice – that is, the “sources of unnecessary human misery created by unjust political, economic, and social systems [are just ignored]. Borg reminds us that, “the test of the justice of systems [according to many biblical voices] is their impact on human lives. To what extent do [these systems] lead to human flourishing and to what extent to human suffering? This is what the political passion of the Bible is about. Its major voices protest the systematic injustice of the kingdoms and empires that dominated their world. They do so in the name of God and on behalf of the victims – slaves in Egypt, exiles in Babylon, exploited peasants in the time of the monarchy and again in the time of Jesus, and the most vulnerable in all times – widows, orphans, the poor, and the marginalized. And in the name of God, the major figures of the Bible advocate a very different vision of our life together.”[2]
This different vision is what Jesus talks about as the Kingdom of God. To his hearers, who lived within the kingdoms of Herod and Caesar, Jesus’ teaching is revolutionary. He taught about what life could be like if God was the king – rather than Herod or Caesar. Within our context, the language would be different – but the message still stands. Jesus’ teaching of blessing and delight for those who are poor, release for those oppressed, healing and wholeness for those weighed down by unjust systems, is still revolutionary – and still possible - if we dare commit our lives, first and foremost to the Presidency or Parliament of God – rather than the Pentagon, the Stock Exchange and the Beehive. If God’s Spirit shaped the United Nations, the International Monetary Fund, the Financial Markets, World Trade Agreements, innocent people would not be fleeced, or led to the slaughter, justice would not be denied them, life would not be taken away from them. It’s a grand vision – but no wonder we are reluctant to commit to it. God’s kingdom – or presidency – or parliament might take away our privileges, our safety, our wealth, our comfort. It’s easier, isn’t it, to close our ears to the nudging of the spirit, to close our eyes to the wilderness road with its strangers, whose stories are different from ours. It’s easier isn’t it, to take the more travelled path, buying cheap goods, pushing under the mat of our conscience any awareness that we are supporting those who don’t pay a fair wage or provide fair working conditions; closing our hearts to real people on the receiving end of the injustices – people living in poverty, struggling to survive, being ripped off by legally acceptable, but unfair trade practices. It’s easier, isn’t it, to domesticate the Christian story – abiding contentedly, curled up tight in the arms of Jesus – with none of the political passion, found throbbing through the Bible.
Over the last few weeks, I have been stressing the importance of personal transformation – of being born anew – as the resurrection message. Today, I offer you the other side of the coin – a reminder that the Gospel – the good news of Jesus Christ – summons us to a politically engaged spirituality which affirms both personal and political transformation. “The message of Jesus, and the Bible as a whole, is about both.”[3] We will know that we are being true to the teachings of Jesus when we seek to bring about that kin-dom of God in which our own deepest longing for personal transformation meets the world’s greatest yearning for political transformation. To enable that to happen, to ensure the bearing of much fruit, we’re called to abide in Jesus’ challenging, wilderness-way picture – with a cross at its centre – arms outstretched in vulnerable and unconditional love for the whole world. May it be so.
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