Sermon on Ecclesiastes for 30 September 2012

Guest Preacher:  Rev. Dr. Judith McKinlay

Vanity of vanities – all is vanity. Shall we just go home now?! It is, of course, the opening and the cue for the biblical book we know as Ecclesiastes. “Vanity” has changed in meaning since the King James Version. But is it any better to say all is ephemeral – all as elusive as a breath, a whiff, a puff - or all is absurd -incomprehensible?

So what’s a book like this doing in the bible, you might well say?!  The early rabbis warned – read this & you might end up a heretic!!

But here it is - with this constant refrain all is ephemeral- all is elusive, - in our bible. Have you read it lately?

The writer, known as Qohelet, which may or may not mean “the teacher,” writes as if he’s king Solomon: “ I, ... when king over Israel… , applied my mind to seek and search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven” (1:12). Somewhat ambitious!

But - a rather big ‘but’ - “I saw all the deeds that are done under the sun, and see, all is ephemeral and a chasing after wind … those who increase knowledge increase sorrow.”

Not altogether encouraging. Don’t listen if you are about to sit an exam!

So what Qohelet is doing, is seeing, observing & considering the world. AS someone says, it’s “the book of the Look” (to quote).[1]

What does Qohelet see? Contradiction upon contradiction – the wise have eyes in their heads but fools walk in darkness, Yet I perceived that the same fate befalls all of them. Then I said to myself, “What happens to the fool will happen to me also, why then have I been so very wise. And I said to myself this also is absurd (2:14-15). Moreover I have seen righteous people who perish in their righteousness, and there are wicked people who prolong their life in their evil doing. Do not be too righteous and do not act too wise, why should you destroy yourself! (7: 15-16).

Should we just be fools?  But the laughter of fools is like the crackling of thorns under a pot (7:6), Dead flies makes the perfumer’s ointment give off a foul odour, so a little folly outweighs wisdom and honour (10:1).

You can understand this writer being considered a pessimist and sceptic!

And wisdom? He has a small story: There was a little city with few people in it. A great king came against it and besieged it, building great siegeworks against it. Now there was found in it a poor wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city. Yet no one remembered that poor man. So I said, “Wisdom is better than might; yet the poor man’s wisdom is despised. Being Qohelet, he doesn’t leave it there but follows, wisdom is better than weapons of war, but one bungler destroys much good (9:14-18). 

What else does he see? The tears of the oppressed, but there is none to comfort them (4:1) - a world where money preoccupies everyone (10:19). Most probably the world of high rates of taxation enforced by Persia, with accompanying high interest rates – where all their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation.[2] This also is absurd (2:23). Anxieties even for those who are well off. There is a grievous ill that I have seen … riches … lost in a bad venture, though (its owners) are parents of children, they have nothing in their hands (5:13-14). And, in any case, whatever one gains is left to be enjoyed by another who did not work for it. This also is absurd (2:21).

Are you making some connections? – bad business ventures & collapsing finance companies - schools providing breakfast, because parents have nothing in their hands? Profit margins and money put before people – a society with the rich, and the very clearly not rich.

So is Qohelet pessimistic or simply realistic? All this, he says, I have tested by wisdom. I said, I will be wise, but that is beyond me. All that happens is inaccessible and utterly unfathomable (7:23-24).

So what to do? Just accept it? Although he does include the call cast your bread upon the waters … give a portion to seven, or even to eight, for you don’t know what misfortune will occur on earth (11:1-2). Be generous – there may be a benefit – just may be.

Where is God in all of this? God is the creator – having made everything appropriate in its time (3:11), and is to be revered, but – Qohelet’s “but,” God is in heaven, humans are on earth (5:2) – the divide is clear.  Just as you do not know how the breath comes to the bones in the mother’s womb, so you do not know the work of God, who makes everything (11:5)

Yet– doesn’t there have to be a “yet” in all this?!– we can enjoy food and wine, & marriage – even work (5:20) & this is God’s gift. Jewish tradition reads Ecclesiastes during the season of Sukkot, when families build small temporary shelters, recalling the 40 years in the wilderness.[3]  A season when friends and family are invited in to eat our bread in gladness and drink our wine with joy, as God has long ago approved  (9:7). A time, as Rabbi Kushner writes, “to enjoy happiness with those we love – a time … to make the most of [it]” the life” we have,[4] albeit death is hovering.

So this is it?  Accepting absurdities, with a bit of enjoyment thrown in! Were the rabbis right – should this book not be in the bible?

And why would I choose to use Qohelet this morning? If your spirituality is one of warm relationship with God, you’re probably finding Qohelet bleak - if you’re committed to issues of social justice, you’re probably finding Qohelet quietist.

It is one voice among the many– but a voice that speaks to those who do find the meaning of life deeply mysterious, and accept that – a voice that speaks to those who constantly see the contradictions and accept life is like this. A voice that speaks to those whose spirituality is intellectually austere. But it is a spirituality – held with honesty and integrity. It is a faithful spirituality - and biblical.

At the end, comes the call: fear God and keep God’s commandments, for that is the whole duty of everyone (12: 13). Really? From Qohelet? Or is this tacked on to make the book conform a little more? Does that matter? The point is that read as a whole, that is the call, fear God and keep God’s commandments, “[e]ven if everything is absurd.” To quote the Jewish Qohelet scholar Michael Fox:

We may stumble around bruised and bewildered. We may see the meaning of life crumble if we stare at it too carefully. But we can still do what we are supposed to do. And we know what this is, even if we are ignorant of its consequences. That is no small thing.[5]

We, who are Christian, have the Gospel commandments – we agree, that is no small thing.

Have I answered why I chose Qohelet? Perhaps not entirely. Two more reasons. Firstly, his work is part of a long international tradition – international in the Ancient Near Eastern sense. He is working on a wide map.  He never uses the Israelite name for God – what our Bibles translate as Lord. He simply writes God. Qohelet is writing on a wide map. It is an outward looking theology - & it is a theology – not closed off, not inward looking, not insular.

What he is also doing is challenging some long-held assumptions of that tradition, as Job had done before him. He’s constantly saying “yes, but,” and the “but” comes from his own observations – his own experience. He keeps saying I have looked and seen and this just isn’t so!

At the same time he remains part of this tradition. As Walter Brueggemann and his co-authors write: “Faith of the kind the wisdom teachers practice is never settled but is endlessly rethought, because lived experience finally is the grist of faith ... They refused to settle, because they knew that after the lived experience of today, there would be tomorrow with its own insistent questions … ”[6] 

Do we say amen to that? I think many of us would, and many of us have. Knox has a strong thinking and rethinking tradition, though we might not have linked this back to Qohelet.

Rethinking, challenging, daring to state the contradictions, daring to be honest, when life made no sense to him, but daring this with a faithful integrity. That is Qohelet.

The book ends with the observation that of making many books there is no end (12:12). I, personally, am grateful for this one. Can we say thanks be to God? I think so.

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[1] Mark Sneed, “(Dis)closure in Qohelet: Qohelet Deconstructed,” JSOT 27.1 (2002): 115-126 (122).

[2] See Choon Leong Seow, “Theology When Everything is Out of Control,” Interpretation 55.3 (2001): 237-249.

[3] See Leviticus 23:39-43.

[4] Harold S. Kushner, When All You’ve Ever Wanted Isn’t Enough (London: Pan Books, 1986), 190.

[5] Michael V. Fox, A Time to Tear Down and A Time to Build Up: A Rereading of Ecclesiastes (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 145.

[6] Bruce C. Birch et al., A Theological Introduction to the Old Testament (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1999), 413, 415.

A Sermon for 23 September 2012

Readings Psalm 1; James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a; Mark 9:30-37

“Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom.”^[1]

All our readings this morning point us towards two very different forms of wisdom – the general and often unexamined wisdom of our culture and the contrasting wisdom of God, described by the letter writer James as “pure, peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.”^[2] 

I wonder what the writer of the letter of James would have had to say about the story on the front page of the newspaper last Monday – the one about the Invercargill company executive who told a potential employee, whose ethnic origin was Syrian, that “he should change his name to something more Kiwi because conservative southerners would think twice about working with him. – ‘Unfortunately, [the executive’s email said] any southern NZer client in business would possibly think twice about dealing with anyone with a Middle Eastern name.’”^[3]

It’s a story grounded in the general wisdoms of our day and marketplace – one example of many news stories in our world today – writ large in the United States presidential election campaign, on the battlefields of Syria, Afghanistan, and Libya, in the debating chambers of the Beehive … and also experienced in our day to day living in our own homes and workplaces.  The general wisdoms of the world seep into our being, so that sometimes without even recognising it, we claim our experience, our circumstances and our very selves as the centre, from which all else should be measured and understood.  We expect others to see the world as we see it – to become like us, for we know best; we claim entitlement for our way, which is the best way of course; and we throw our tantrums, seeking revenge, making others pay when they have hurt us. 

There are two ways of living, the Psalmist, reminds us – those who follow the way of God “are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season”.  Those who choose not to follow God’s way are “like chaff that the wind blows away”.^[4]

American farmer and poet Wendell Berry^[5] has had enough of so called wisdoms of our day. 

He argues that the many guises of the modern world separate us from nature and place; he contrasts the "world made without hands" to "industrial humanity," which he considers an "alien species" with a death wish. Berry wants to deconstruct the deathly wisdom of the world in favour of new life-giving narratives.  “He deplores our "idiot luxury," "our economy of greed," "fantasy capitalism," "fashionable lies," the destruction of mountains to mine coal, idiot politicians, the violence of war, and the imperative of technology….. “He’s searching for "a language that can make us whole" and that can help us live as "true human beings."^[6]

In his poem Look Out, Berry invites us to stand at the window of our world to see what is actually there before us – both the beauty of this amazing creation and the shadow, cast upon its splendour.

Come to the window, look out, and see

the valley turning green in remembrance

of all springs past and to come, the woods

perfecting with immortal patience

the leaves that are the work of all of time,

the sycamore whose white limbs shed

the history of a man's life with their old bark,

the river quivering under the morning's breath

like the touched skin of a horse, and you will see

also the shadow cast upon it by fire, the war

that lights its way by burning the earth.

Of course, if we stay within our own comforts and don’t go to the windows of our world, we will never see what Berry invites us to see:  we will never see how, what James describes as the wisdoms of ‘envy and selfish ambition’, have created “disorder and wickedness of every kind.”^[7]

Come to your windows, people of the world,

look out at whatever you see wherever you are,

and you will see dancing upon it that shadow.

You will see that your place, wherever it is,

your house, your garden, your shop, your forest, your farm,

bears the shadow of its destruction by war

which is the economy of greed which is plunder

which is the economy of wrath which is fire.

The Lords of War sell the earth to buy fire,

they sell the water and air of life to buy fire.

They are little men grown great by willingness

to drive whatever exists into its perfect absence.

Their intention to destroy any place is solidly founded

upon their willingness to destroy every place.

Every household of the world is at their mercy,

the households of the farmer and the otter and the owl

are at their mercy. They have no mercy.

Having hate, they can have no mercy.

Their greed is the hatred of mercy.

Their pockets jingle with the small change of the poor.

Their power is the willingness to destroy

everything for knowledge which is money

which is power which is victory

which is ashes sown by the wind.

Like the writers of our readings for this morning, Wendell Berry urges us to the window of our world so that we will recognise and "say no" to the deathly wisdoms which surround us.  And in that time of recognition– despite all that we see – we who follow the way of life-giving wisdom are strengthened to move from our place at the window, to go into the world and "say yes" to all that is good and true.

Leave your windows and go out, people of the world,

go into the streets, go into the fields, go into the woods

and along the streams. Go together, go alone.

Say no to the Lords of War which is Money

which is Fire. Say no by saying yes

to the air, to the earth, to the trees,

yes to the grasses, to the rivers, to the birds

and the animals and every living thing, yes

to the small houses, yes to the children. Yes.

A simple message, and yet, like our faith ancestors, Jesus’ disciples, we often miss the point. In today’s gospel reading we find a further example of the misunderstandings we addressed last Sunday – here the two wisdom ways are spelt out.  Jesus is predicting his betrayal and death, while his disciples argue about who is the greatest.  In response to their misunderstanding, Jesus offers a word of Wisdom:  “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all”.  He quickly illustrates his teaching with a piece of dramatic street theatre – taking a little child out of the crowd, he says “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me, welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

It’s another life-giving message which provides us with new scripts to write better stories about our world and ourselves.My illustration isn’t quite as immediate as Jesus – it will happen during the notices -and the one to be placed in our midst is not quite a child – although most of us would not recognise a fourteen year old as adult.  But I have invited Mhairi later in the service to take her vantage point at the window of the world and offer her vision in saying ‘yes’ to the children.  I invite you to hear Mhairi’s words, along with the words of Jesus, James, the Psalmist and Wendell Berry calling us into a way of being in which we look out on the world and go out into the world, where we say ‘yes’ to life-giving Holy Wisdom – and ‘no’ to the wisdoms of death which surround us. 

“Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom.”^[8]

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[1] James 3:13b

[2] James 3:17

[3] ODT “Syrian job applicant advised to change name” ODT Monday 17 Sept 2012, p.1

[4] Psalm 1:3-4

[5] See Wendell Berry, New Collected Poems (Berkeley: Counterpoint, 2012),

[6] This paragraph and the material which follows, including the Wendell Berry poem quotes from and uses the material of Dan Clendenin “Saying Yes to Women and Children: Contrarian Wisdom for a Fallen World” essay for September 23, 2012 http://www.journeywithjesus.net/index.shtml

[7] James 3:16

[8] James 3:13b

A sermon for 16 September 2012

Readings: Proverbs 1:20-33; Mark 8:27-38

I’d like to begin this morning with a very big thank you to all who responded to last Sunday’s sermon – to those who texted during (and after the service), those who attended the Monday night discussion, those who stopped after church to talk with me, those at various meetings during the week who continued the discussion on the “Why” of our faith – thank you.  Clearly, this opportunity to probe the motivation behind what we do as the Body of Christ touched a deep place in many people’s hearts and minds.   I hope you were as inspired as I was by the ongoing conversation, the developing proposals (which we will hear more about in the weeks to come) and the thoughtful considerations of so many different people.  I was encouraged by the number of people who did respond by text – and so the invitation continues:  if you would like to engage in the conversation, opened up by this morning’s sermon, please text me with your ideas, questions and thoughts (either during the service or later).

Last Sunday, within the context of the Moderator-elect’s theme of “Reviving the Flame” we considered the question “do we know why we do what we do?” Some of you offered specific and particular responses about belonging to a community with a particular way of life; where spiritual nurture is as essential as food and drink; where giving and receiving from others is so very important; where responding to the needs and the pain of the world is given high priority.  Two text-responses reminded me of how open-ended the ‘why’ question is.  “Why – the eternal question” one of you wrote….  This was expanded by another “Why is a never ending question! You can never finish answering it!”  (So, the question of why remains for ongoing consideration – even as we move this morning to another eternal question – that of ‘who’ – one which several of you also raised over this week.) 

The gospel reading set down for today starts with a ‘who’ question – when Jesus asks his disciples “who do people say that I am?”

Have you ever been brave enough – or made yourself vulnerable enough – to ask that question of your friends:  Who do other people say that I am – and who do you say that I am?  If you dared ask your friends that question – if you had the courage to open yourself up that much to your friends – how would they answer you?  Would they describe you by your role (you are a teacher) – or your relationship (you are my best friend)?  Would they suggest whom you resemble (you are your mother, or grandfather all over again)?  Or would they be more likely to describe the way they would like you to be?  Would you even recognise yourself in their answer?

I think there’s a little bit of all of this in the disciples’ response to Jesus’ apparently simple question:  “Who do people say that I am – and who do you say that I am?”   “They say you’re like your cousin John the Baptist, you’re Elijah, you’re one of the prophets, and I think, says Peter, I think you’re the Messiah…." 

Who do you say that Jesus is?

Usually Peter is given good press for this particular declaration.  But I wonder, does the reading we have before us actually affirm his response?  I’m not so sure that it does.  I wonder whether Peter was trying a little hard to describe the way he’d like to see Jesus be – rather than the way Jesus would like to be seen.  In the verses that follow this ‘who’ question and answer, we pick up a theme which runs through Mark’s gospel:  the disciples misunderstand again and again - they just don’t get who Jesus is – and by inference, it is suggested that we, the readers of the gospel, don’t get it either.  

If not eternal and never-ending, the answer to the ‘who’ question is at least much more complex than any one name or title.  Some might think Jesus to be his cousin, others might see him as a prophet, Peter thought him to be the Messiah, but the language Jesus uses here to describe himself is more enigmatic – he’s the Son of Man.  I’m a mortal, human person standing here beside you, he tells his disciples; I’m a man – a human being – who is going to suffer, be rejected and die – just like you – and out of that suffering new life, new hope, new possibilities will emerge, but I’m still human.  And, like for so many of us in the centuries to follow, Peter does not find this response very palatable.  He wants Jesus to fulfil his dream.  And so he rebukes Jesus – no Jesus, you aren’t going to die – you are the Messiah – you are the one that will save us from having to go through all the painful, oppressive, suffering moments in life.  And Jesus is having none of that.  He spells out a different vision – one that takes in a bigger picture, where living in God acknowledges the total reality of living in the here and now (including the suffering and death).

Who is this man, whom we follow?

In the tradition of the Wisdom preacher before him, he offers a way of living right there in the midst of our panic, anguish and calamity – a way that heals, but doesn’t remove suffering; that gives life without removing dying – a wisdom, life-giving way.

If we are going to articulate the ‘why’ and the ‘who’ of our faith, we need to be clear about this different focus.  “The disciples’ misunderstanding  – and our own – comes from an entrenched way of thinking [defined by self-centred desire]… the problem with [this Jesus, this] Son of Man is that he disappoints our foremost fantasies.

[In the imagination of our hearts]… even if we have rank, it is not high enough.  Even if we have money, we are not wealthy enough.  Even if we command respect, there is always one who ridicules us.  We need an increase of importance.  As eagerly as we want to promote ourselves, just as eagerly do we want to protect ourselves.  We sense the fragility of our lives.  A fall from the little grace we have haunts us.  We fear becoming sick, and old, and dying. We never have enough or are enough … we ‘lack’.

But [oh yes, we think our saving grace is that] we can fantasize. … [in our Messianic dreams]… we can spin scenarios of revenge …we can close our eyes and see ourselves in charge, making decisions that help thousands and who resound with adulation.  Of course, we will be healthy far into old age and die like Zorba the Greek, standing and howling out the window at winter.  We may be little in reality, but we are large in dream…

Jesus profoundly disappointed the fantasy of human fulfillment.  The Son of Man goes a different way and offers a different [path for] all who follow him.  He lives a life of trust in God and service of others.  He does not harm others to secure his own life.  In fact, saving himself is the last thing that is on his mind.  Therefore, he does not mitigate our fear by making us great and assure us of our importance by allowing us to lord it over others.  He will not sanction our own chronic concern with our status and position or look the other way while others suffer so we can save our life in this world.  In short, he does not give us what we want.”^[1]

This is not necessarily very comforting for those of us who seek certainty and power – but it is the Wisdom-way of the one we seek to follow. 

David Adam, writing on the prayer  attributed to St Patrick “Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me” reminds us that although we have no clue about what lies ahead; our confidence comes in knowing who is ahead of us.  With that knowledge, the future is not quite unknown. 

Who is this man whom we follow?

“If anyone wants to become my followers” says Jesus, the Wisdom of God, “let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”  This is neither a call to grandiosity nor to masochism – but rather an invitation to give up on our own self-centered, foolish desires and follow into the streets – into the places of pain and suffering – into the market-place, where the ways of compassion, love and justice proclaim a way of life which brings hope, liberation and transformation for all.

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[1] John Shea The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers 2005, p.228-229

A Sermon for 9 September 2012 - Communion

This morning we turn our hearts and minds towards the up-coming General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa New Zealand.  The Assembly, the highest court of the Presbyterian Church, will be meeting in Rotorua at the beginning of October.  A number of Knox Church members will be attending. 

The incoming Moderator of the Assembly, Rev. Ray Coster, has coined the phrase “Reviving the Flame” for his Moderatorial theme. The flame is a powerful symbol of faith. It recalls the coming of the Spirit in tongues of fire at Pentecost – that time we usually describe as the birth-day of the universal Christian Church.   In the Presbyterian tradition the flame brings to mind the image of the burning bush, encountered by Moses, and which has been adopted as a logo in many reformed traditions. Ray Coster’s call for the Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa NZ to revive the flame is a call for us to reconnect with the dynamics of Pentecost, which he describes in terms of “living in the power of God’s presence and the presence of God’s power.”  He has written a four part study for the church to engage with his theme:  Reviving the Flame.  This morning’s sermon uses material from that study.  Tomorrow evening, you are invited to come along to the Gathering Area to participate in discussion on what ‘Reviving the Flame’ might mean for us here at Knox.

Underlying Ray Coster’s theme for his moderatorial term, is a mission question – with a significant challenge – do we know why we do what we do? 

Every single church on the planet knows WHAT they do. This is true no matter how big or how small they are. WHATs are easy to identify.

Some churches and people know HOW they do what they do: they can describe their Sunday worship; they can tell HOW they reach or serve their community; they can tell HOW they provide ministry with children and youth.

But, very few people in churches, in my experience, says Ray Coster, can clearly articulate WHY they do WHAT they do. WHY does your church exist? He asks.  WHY do you get out of bed every morning? WHY should anyone care?

Does this present a challenge to us?

Do you know why Knox Church exists or why you are here this morning?

Do you know why this church advocates it welcomes all people?

Do you know why our worship is so liturgical, why we have a choir? Could you explain to a friend why we have two Presbyterian Women’s groups, why we hold Stories by Candlelight … not what or how we do these things – but why?

Can you articulate why we provide Easter gifts for prisoners, Harvest gifts for Presbyterian Support, Christmas posies for those who are isolated?

If we do know the why, that’s great.  The Moderator-elect writes for those of us who may not find that articulation so easy.

Once we know WHY, he writes, then we can ask HOW we will do it; that is explore the values or principles that guide us in bringing our mission to life.  What we actually do shows the consistency of our mission. Everything we say, and everything we do, has to show and prove what we believe.

I was pondering the Moderator-elect’s words as I walked through the University campus this week.  A couple of students were walking behind me, heading for a lecture.  I overheard just a snatch of their conversation about their lecturer – “I think” one of them observed “this guy needs to give us treats to make us interested”.  What did she believe about her tertiary education?  I think she’d lost the heart of her WHY as she focussed on the WHATS and HOWS of her own personal desires.   Ray Coster suggests that most churches do this – they start with their WHATs before trying to express their WHY. That is understandable. They start from the clearest thing to them and move to the fuzziest.  But, he claims, inspired churches (and other organisations) always start from the reason for their being. They start with WHY and move to WHAT.

He provides an illustration from the business world -

Apple’s success, he claims, is based on the strategy to tell us WHY we need their iPads, iPods and iPhones.

Apple did not invent the MP3 player, nor did they invent the technology that became the iPod, yet they are credited with transforming the music industry with it. The inventors of the technology for MP3 players gave the world a WHAT – they told us their product was a “5GB MP3 Player”. Apple’s message was exactly the same, but they told us WHY we needed it – that we could, “carry 1,000 songs in your pocket”. 

Ray Coster calls the church to revive the flame – to revive the WHY of our existence. 

Recently I read an article written by Marcus Borg, where he deals with the chronology of the New Testament^[1].  Borg points out a well known fact – that the Bible was not written in the order in which it is printed.  Matthew was not the first piece to be written – and Revelation wasn’t the last.  Borg has put together a proposed order – the detail of which is of course open to debate – but which invites a reconsideration of the development of the early church.  Imagine a Bible printed in chronological order – it might go something like this:  1 Thessalonians, Galatians, 1 Corinthians, Philemon, Philippians, the three letters of 2 Corinthians, Romans – all before the first Gospel Mark… followed by James, Colossians, Matthew, Hebrews, John … etc.   Nine letters written before any gospel...

In light of the Moderator-elect’s theme, I found myself wondering, might the Gospels have been written in a reaction to an institutional shift from the WHY to the WHAT and HOW?  Do the earliest New Testament writings, reflect an institutionalising movement away from the initial charismatic fire of the first Christians - what Ray Coster suggests many organizations and churches do: once well established, they focus on WHAT they do and HOW they do it without considering WHY, even though it is always the WHY that got them started in the first place. Were the later writings of the Gospels an attempt to revive the flame of the Jesus movement – recalling the emerging institutional church back to its WHY?   Perhaps its time for us to return again to the WHY of our being.

Think about how you communicate with your community, writes our incoming Moderator? Are you telling them WHAT you offer, or are you telling them WHY you are in the community? Do they know WHY they need you? Once we have an understanding of WHY, we can then begin to put in place the HOW and the WHAT.

The central message and belief of our church is about hope and transformation: what God has done through Jesus in bringing flourishing life to the world, God will do through humanity for the whole cosmos.  This is the primary motivation for mission – it’s the ‘why’ of mission. If there had been no Jesus, no resurrection, no Holy Spirit, there would be no church …

A Church with a transforming resurrection-pentecost mind-set knows and understands that the Church is not about us (and our petty squabbles and attempts to do things our way)! When we have our WHY in its rightful place, we truly gain the servant heart – the mind of Christ. The time to think about you is done – writes Ray Coster; it’s not about you. It’s about the people who will follow you. We are not seeking to relive history; we are setting out to make history – transforming the communities and world in which we are placed.

Restoration and transformation of the world was why the first followers of Jesus were impelled into the world in mission – proclaiming the gospel, showing compassion, seeking justice, caring for the needy.

As we prepare for General Assembly, the Moderator-elect urges us all to take time to think about being a resurrection people – ‘the people of the flame’ – who are being revived, refreshed, so we may focus on others in mission and love.

As we come to the table this morning, we come to be the people of the flame – re-focussing our lives on Jesus, who opens our eyes to see truths of a new kin-dom, where Love never fails and where compassionate justice is always enacted.  Amen

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[1] Evolution of the Word by Marcus Borg www.huffingtonpost.com/marcus-borg/a-chronological-new-testament_b_1823018.html

A Sermon for 2 September 2012

Readings: James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-8

In the name of the One, who came singing Love and whose song we now sing.

The writer of the Gospel of Mark suggests that when it came to their everyday lives, the faithful, law-abiding Pharisees had made a tragic error – they’d lost the heart of their faith.  They’d replaced the dynamic life-giving essence of their religion with empty ritual and tradition.  What initially had been put in place to heighten and enable the commandments to love God and neighbour, had become the Pharisee’s raison d’être – the reason and function of their being.  Quoting the prophet Isaiah, Jesus observed: 'This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me”.  They have become so obsessed with their historically helpful traditions, that they have allowed them to take on a life of their own.  Instead of facilitating the creation of a community of love, the cultural traditions and rituals are being utilised for division, destruction and deathliness.  Now it is the rituals themselves that have become the driver of their thoughts, judgements and actions. 

We heard only the first half of this major speech of Jesus in Mark’s gospel where, in various ways, Jesus’ listeners are told how the focus of hearts and minds is what’s important.  Ritual hand-cleaning is not evil – but letting it be the driver – letting it get in the way of loving God and loving neighbour; that is evil, says Jesus.  It’s a frightening prospect, if we should dare bring such consideration into our own lives and not just leave it all back in the 1^st century with quaint traditions of a different religion and a different time.  Dare we hear Jesus’ words today? 

Let’s take a moment to think about our own individual and personal situations. What drives the way you live and act?  Is it obsession to detail and external matters?  Are you worried about what others might think or expect of you? Is ‘the way things always have been done’ your measure of how appropriate behaviour might be for today?  Or, is your primary driver that of Love of God and neighbour?  If we’d been sitting in Jesus’ company, would we be squirming?  I think I might have been!  Could Jesus’ accusation “You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition” be levelled at you?  And, if it could, what changes in your life are necessary, to turn away from this deathly path?  It might be worth taking a moment or two to think about that.

What drives the way you live and act?  Let’s expand the question a little further.  For instance, how do you decide your response to government debates – say, about the selling of state owned enterprises, the re-defining of marriage, the age for purchasing alcohol, or the inclusion of the Treaty of Waitangi in the taking of Oaths?  Are human tradition and culture sitting in your driver’s seat, making up your mind – or are your responses shaped by the mind of Christ, driven by the commandment of God to love?

How does the commandment of God make a difference?  How does it shape not just what we think, but the way we act, when we hear how 25% of New Zealand children live in poverty; when we hear of the fear-driven reactions of the Whanganui community; when we hear threats to close Hillside workshops; when we learn of soldiers dying in Afghanistan?  Do we just honour God with our lips, with hearts that are far from living out our discipleship?  When it comes to the way we relate with our workmates, friends, strangers and family, what drives our thoughts, our words, our actions as we engage with life around us?

Let’s take a moment to step into another’s experience as we continue to ponder all these questions.  I was having a cup of coffee with Richard, a friend of mine, recently.  He was telling me about his daughter living in England, married to a Muslim young man.   Richard explained how he and his wife, although they travel frequently to England, have never met their son-in-law’s family.  They’ve never spoken to their son-in-law’s father, his mother, his sisters, his brothers.  There’s a huge wall that has never been breached – not when their children married, not even when a grandson was born. There has been no contact at all because of the impossible divide between their religions: Christian and Muslim.  From Richard’s perspective, it is as if he, his wife and wider family do not exist. “Is your son-in-law a practising Muslim”, I asked out of interest.  “Not really” was the reply, “but he never eats pork and he does do some charitable acts – although I’m not sure he understands what is behind all that.”  In light of this morning’s gospel, I pondered what drove the keeping of these traditions – and wondered whether there were also Christian traditions maintaining this divide, preventing the restoration of full loving relationship. 

The same afternoon, after talking with my friend, I came upon an article which talked about a traditional custom in Southeast Sulawesi, Indonesia.  When there is a desire to settle a conflict among the Tolaki people, a knotted rattan string called ‘kalo sara’ is put on a white linen cloth in an open tray.  The person or people who submit this knotted string to the other party are requesting peace.  The article I read described a situation not that different from what Richard had described.  There was a local church leader who had rejected his sister because she married a Muslim.  His sister and her husband came to him with the kalo sara. And the church leader, knowing that refusing to accept this offer for reconciliation would have been a violation of the adat (local law) with the risk of excommunication by the community, had no option but to accept the request for peace and thus to restore the family ties.[1]

Two situations ... two very different countries ... two very different families ...the same two religions ... each with their own particular cultures and traditions.  In one case, tradition used for destruction; in the other, tradition used for restoration.

The gospel call to love God and to love our neighbour is incredibly difficult.  We need traditions and rituals to assist us in becoming more loving – because it’s just not possible to do so on our own.  Spiritual disciplines, worship ritual, study, contemplation of beauty, acts of kindness and social activism all assist us in our responding to what Mark calls “God’s commandment”.  But, each also has the potential to get in the way and prevent us from fulfilling this commandment.  Our prayers, our music, our good deeds can be just as meaningless as ritual hand washing or not eating pork, if they lead to collapsing, broken  relationships.

If the love, peace, hope and justice that Jesus taught about is to go on – we must make it our song .  And that means the way we think and act about asset sales and drinking age, domestic violence and sexual abuse, poverty and mining and the state of our planet and cosmos will be shaped, not by popular opinion or cultural traditions, but by that commandment to love.

Are we willing to be the singers of Jesus song – to be driven by that commandment to love God and love our neighbour – even when we are tested to the depths of our being? 

What drives the way you live and act? 

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[1] “Ancient symbols – contemporary mission” Occasional Info: WARC Mission Project 2006-2010 No. 7, December 2009.