She knows her place

The other day, writing a piece for a project on which I'm a team member, I had cause to ponder that much abused (and I use that word intentionally) verse from Ephesians 5:22-23 on wifely submission. For too long, it's been used as a pillar to support toxic masculinity, and a tool to keep women down - that they 'know their place' in the apparent ordained pecking order of life. It's seen, within some (and I hasten to say, not all!)

circles of Christianity as a way of control: guilting a woman to stay within a relationship that is physically, mentally, emotionally abusive. In those particular circles, the onus is on the woman to behave appropriately: if she just does as she's told, there won't be a problem - if behaviours occur that harm, then, it's her fault. Clearly, her attitude and actions are to blame, are provocative in some way. There's a whole theology around the submission of women that serves as a template for some to excuse unacceptable behaviour - more than that: to almost sanctify violence. A pious doublespeak of 'it's because I love you that I'm doing this; it's the godly thing to do.' Outwith those particular circles of Christianity, it's played its part in wider society through conversations and attitudes around the role, or place, of women... helping to create an unholy foundation for their diminishing whether by words, or mind games, or violence, or indeed, a combination of all.

As I said, I'm pondering... but within Scotland, the statistics around violence against women are horrific. Between one in three, to five, women will be subject to domestic violence at some point in their lives; around every 10 seconds, a report of domestic violence is logged with Police Scotland; in 2021-2022, nearly 65 000 domestic abuse incidents were reported. Legally, unlike England or Wales, in Scotland it's deemed reasonable to cite suspected infidelity as a justification for lethal violence as part of a plea of provocation. There's mention further below of 'a Diane, an Emma, a Nicole'. This is reference to women who died due to domestic violence: Diane Nichol, Emma Coupland and her daughter, Nicole Anderson. The day before he killed her, Nichol’s partner was overheard by witnesses ‘You’re useless, you don’t clean, you don’t make my lunch. You better make it tomorrow.' Nichol’s injuries were so severe, the attack so violent, that they were likened, by first responders at the scene, to those sustained in a road traffic accident.

Currently, we're in Eastertide - having walked through Holy Week, the violence and death of Jesus, and through to resurrection. Within the context of that week and, in particular, Friday and the cross, there are those who champion the penal substitution theory of atonement - 'every lash of the whip, every hammer blow, etc. was because of, and for you.' Taken to its logical extreme, there's an argument to be had here for the heavenly household being an divine example of domestic violence - in this case, cosmic child abuse. It provides a blueprint that ties in far too easily with the matter of wifely submission/ male headship: as God the Father punished the Son (on our behalf... it's your fault, etc.) so, the man, who is 'head' of the house has authority to punish the subordinates in his household... There's a bizarre cognitive dissonance with a theory that, at its core, affirms 'God loves you so much that he arranged for his child to be beaten, tortured, and killed' - that same classic dissonance of the abuser of a partner or child using the old, twisted line: 'I'm only doing this because I love you.' To me, that's at odds with what we see of the rest of Jesus' life and teaching - and, to only focus upon 3 hours of his life misses the wider context of seeing him as a model for demonstrating a life fully lived - and, what life in full relationship with God as parent looks like. Summing up this viewpoint perhaps as: this is how to live - in love: with God and neighbour. It can be costly, but it will overturn the mighty, and overcome injustice, and bring in God's kin-dom.

So, I lay my own theological cards on the atonement theory table: clearly, I'm more on the 'Jesus as an example for us on how to live' model, rather than following the road that leads to the problematic violence of penal substitution. We follow One who understood power not as dominance, but as vulnerability - of offering love and service to one another. This was to be the radical blueprint pointing to a life-giving way to dismantle toxic behaviours and build a life-affirming kingdom - a kin-dom - where all are valued, respected, deemed worthy, and where there will be no more tears, violence, or death; a kin-dom and culture that celebrates abundant life, in word and in deed. Until we challenge more readily some of our more toxic theology, and dare walk down that radical road of non-violence and love, we continue to be complicit in a culture of death, not life.

Certainly, historically, some sections of the church have been complicit, either overtly, or through silence. There is, however, some movement institutionally towards not only recognising violence against women, but setting up task groups and providing resources. It's a start, but the work is ongoing. How do we address the hermeneutics of power and violence within scripture, and embedded in culture? There's a whole lot of patriarchal dismantling to do. 

See article ‘As killings of women increase in Scotland, if femicide the real ‘F’ word?’ by Kirsteen Paterson in Holyrood 15 March, 2023. 
https://www.holyrood.com/inside-politics/view,as-killings-of-women-increase-in-scotland-is-femicide-the-real-f-word

For a starting place for further resources, see: https://www.churchofscotland.org.uk/about-us/our-views/violence-against-women

‘She knows her place’

She knows her place:

she needs to, for safety’s-sake.

And even then

as she diminishes herself,

becomes small,

invisible,

there’s no guarantee.

With provocation as a plea –

‘she made me do it!’

‘She deserved it!’ –

it will always be

her fault.

She knows her place

and so does he:

everywhere she goes

and who she meets;

how much she spends.

Every moment, every conversation,

accounted for

and, if not,

accusation and interrogation.

It’s because he loves her:

it’s for her own good,

the beating’s done.

She knows her place:

told by her pastor, father, man

to submit, be good,

obey.

She never measures up –

is useless, doesn’t clean, make lunch…

she’d better do, tomorrow.

She’s a Diane, an Emma, a Nicole:

she’s the 1-in-5, the every 10.*

But it’s a private matter, 

a women’s issue;

not a priority.

...She knows her place.

           Nik 2023

Worship words for 12 Sept - P16

Ugh, life has been a little too busy!!
Must get my act together a wee bit more on this poor neglected blog.
in the meantime, some worship words for this Sunday, focusing upon the reading from James 3:1-13 and the power of words...

Sticks and stones/
The wee ditty rings out:
‘sticks and stones
may break my bones,
but names will never hurt me.’
Bravado that rings hollow.

Words matter,
words batter
and bruise the heart,
the soul.   

Words shatter –
words scatter
glassy shards
of self-image, 
diminish
those created
in God’s likeness,
‘til all that once was whole
lies broken.

Be mindful
of the certain poisoned sweetness
of the tongue.
  c.Nik Mac 2021

Blessing/
May the Word of Life
breathe love into all you say.
Speak well and speak wisely,
console and speak kindly.
Speak truth to power.
Leave space for others to speak.

In all you say—
bless and encourage,
comfort and inspire.
May your words be loving,
life-giving,
honouring the God
in whose image
all are made,
the One who spoke creation into being,
and who speaks words of blessing to us
this day and every day. 
  c.Nik Mac 2021

Sermon for Trinity Sunday 2014: 'A Trinity of Love'

And so to Trinity Sunday... gave a brief nod to sermon preached several years back with regard to referring to Rublev's icon 'The hospitality of Abraham'.  

Had stumbled upon the legend of St Augustine during the week, so decided to do a little creative rewriting of the story.  Had wondered if, in the telling of the story, the congregation might be poised waiting for a punch-line...and hoped they wouldn't: was wanting to build an initial atmosphere of the strange and mysterious.  Was pleased: it worked

Earlier on in the service, read 'Three', a reading for 3 voices.  

'THREE'

[not sure of the source for this reading, but will happily credit it if someone knows!]

All 3 voices     We believe in God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Voice 1     The three in one and one in three,

Voice 2     God in three persons

Voice 3     Blessed Trinity.

All 3 voices      We believe in the God who came to meet us in Jesus Christ,

Voice 1     Born as one of us,

Voice 2     Preaching and teaching amongst us,

Voice 3     Dying, rising and ascending to bring us life.

All 3 voices     A story in three parts:

Voice 1     Wise men from the east bringing three                

                 gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, to worship the newborn Christ child.

Voice 2     As a teenager he stayed behind in the Temple for three days 

                to argue with the elders.

Voice 3     As a man, he was tempted three times by Satan in the wilderness.

Voice 1     His ministry lasted only three years, yet his teachings survive into the third millenium.

Voice 2     There were three people present at the transfiguration, 

                Peter, James and John, who witnessed Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah.

Voice 3     Nearing the end of his ministry, Jesus vowed to destroy the Temple and rebuild it in three days.

Voice 1     He spoke three times about his impending death.

Voice 2     He overheard Peter deny him three times in the High Priest's courtyard in 

                his hour of need.

Voice 3     He was led to sacrifice like the prized three year-old lamb 

                specially reserved for the Passover meal.

Voice 1     He stumbled three times on his way to Calvary.

Voice 2     There were three crosses.

Voice 3     Jesus died at three o'clock

Voice 1     and rose again, three days later.

Voice 2     He gave Peter three opportunities to redeem himself by declaring his love.

Voice 3     And commands us to love three times: ourselves, our neighbours and God.

Voice 1     We believe in the Holy Trinity,

Voice 2     God in three persons:

Voice 3     Father, Son and Holy Spirit. 

All 3 voices     We believe in God.

Sermon: 'A Trinity of Love'

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts 

be acceptable in your sight, 

O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer.  Amen.

It was a mystery.

And he had been puzzling over it for near on 30 years.

He had written thousands upon

thousands of words

and yet, none of them felt adequate.

All of them fell short of the mark.

How do you describe the indescribable?

How do you try to comprehend the incomprehensible?

It was a daunting task;

It was madness:

a work that could never be completed

in a single lifetime.

It was a mystery, a puzzle, an enigma.

One day, as he walked on the beach,

his mind overwhelmed by the

immensity of the task,

he saw a young child playing.

As he watched, the child dug a small hole,

then ran to the water’s edge with a shell in hand.

Gently, carefully, the child filled the shell with water

and tiptoed back across the sand.

The shell was upturned, and water trickled into the hole;

the child then went back to the water’s edge.

The great thinker watched, as again, and again,

the child with the tiny shell 

moved between the water’s edge and the hole,

collecting, carrying, pouring.

Walking up to the child, he smiled.

‘What are you doing, little one?’ he asked.

The child looked up at him with a solemn face and replied:

‘I’m trying to pour the ocean into this hole.’

The great thinker considered the child’s answer for a moment

and responded gently:

‘But the ocean is vast. 

What makes you think that you can empty the immense ocean

into this tiny hole,

with just a small shell?’

The child continued to look solemnly at the great thinker and said quietly:

‘And what makes you think that you can comprehend the immensity of God

with your tiny mind.’

And with that, the child vanished

leaving the great thinker alone

on that empty beach

looking at a tiny hole in which sea water

seeped into damp sand...

Today we celebrate, and reflect upon, mystery:

a mystery that the Church has puzzled over for near on 2 000 years.

There have been thousands of words written -

including the thousands written by the great thinker we heard about in the story -

the 5^th century African theologian Augustine -

and while the story of Augustine’s

strange beach encounter

may be mere legend....

in this second decade of the 21^st century

we are still none the wiser about the mystery he was pondering.

Words are not enough;

all of them fall far short of the mark

as we try to describe the indescribable,

and comprehend the incomprehensible:

the mystery and immensity of God,

Father

Son

and Holy Spirit -

one God

in three persons...

...blessed Trinity.

It is a mystery

this business of the Trinity

yet, every year, for near-on 2 000 years,

church communities have listened as preachers have used a variety of examples 

to try and come close to explaining the inexplicable:

God like a shamrock - three leaves but one stem

God like water in 3 forms: water, steam, ice...

but still water

God like an egg: shell, yolk, white...

All of these okay, but yet, not quite right.

It’s a tough job...

so perhaps we should just stick to the

Athenasian Creed -

you can almost hear the writers sighing and shrugging as they wrote:

God the Father: incomprehensible

God the Son: incomprehensible

God the Holy Spirit: incomprehensible.

But is mystery necessarily a bad thing?

And will we cope if we haven’t got the answer

to every single question this side of heaven? 

I suspect... yes.

And I also suspect, from scripture, that we don’t get to know the whole shebang 

this side of heaven anyway:

Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians, notes:

‘for now we know in part: then we shall see,

face to face.’

Personally, I kinda like the anticipation, and of knowing 

there’s a whole lot more to come.

So, if we don’t get to unravel the whole mystery of who God is 

and what this matter of the Trinity is about, 

where might we go from here?

If we explore God as Trinity within the context

of love and belonging and relationship,

- concepts that are a little more easy to get our heads around -

how might that affect the way in which we live our lives?

In a small nod to ecumenism: the 1982 communion liturgy 

of the Scottish Episcopal Church, 

paraphrasing the 1^st Letter of John, states that:
‘God is love and we are God’s children.

There is no room for fear in love.

We love, because God loved us first.’

For me, this gets to the heart of the matter:

relationships of love.

God is love...

and our response to that love.

In the 16^th century, the Russian artist

Andrei Rublev

tried to paint his understanding of the Trinity:

Father, Son, and Spirit.

It’s the picture you have in front of you

on your order of service - and up on the screen. 

Rublev was very much trying to demonstrate

a sense of God living in harmonious

and perfect community.

This sense of unity within the relationship of each of the figures 

is indicated by the way their heads incline one to the other, 

almost making an outline of a circle. This shows how they're 

bound together as one by a common will and mutual love: 

love unites them.

...God, as a Trinity of love:

God the Father: the one who loves

God the Son: the beloved

God the Holy Spirit: the love that flows so strongly between Father and Son, 

that it takes on shape and substance of its own.

And, mirroring this, for us created in God’s image, we might ask:

How do we love?

Who do we love?

What is the impact of that love on others?

It is a mystery, this business of the Trinity

and yet, the overarching theme appears to be about community;

to be about relationship.

In our readings this morning,

both contained mention of God as Trinity:

it’s the formula Jesus gives his followers

when he sends them out to make disciples and to baptise them -

in the name of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit -

the holy community that is God.

And the one who is baptised, enters into the church -

the community of God’s people.

As God is in the perfect community of the Trinity,

so those who believe

are to live within the context of community -

journeying together into the mystery

and heart of God

and learning and following, despite our imperfections, the way of love.

This sense of relationship - of belonging to God -

and of being a part of God’s people -

is brought out in our reading from 2^nd Corinthians.

And the background to the reading from Corinthians is significant:

Paul is writing to a community that’s wracked with in-fighting,

jostling for power positions,

squabbling over doctrine,

and causing scandal throughout the city, due to some quite 

outrageous behaviour among the believers.

Here, at the end of his letter, Paul is reminding 

this rather fractious community of believers

of whose they are,

and how they should live...

lives modelled on the holy and harmonious relationship

of Father, Son, and Spirit:

lives lived in grace, love, and fellowship.

And every time we say the grace together -

which is from this passage -

it’s a handy reminder to us, 

of just whose we are and how we should live -

how we should love God, and love one another.

And there’s an openness to love.

Our painting by Rublev has an open space

at the front:

it’s as if we’re being invited in to sit at the table...

God looks outwards, not inwards -

looking out in love towards us,

towards the world.

In turn, we are to look outwards not inwards -

look in love at the wider world around us:

to welcome all people,

to demonstrate heavenly hospitality

on earth as it is in heaven:

to build communities of love -

as in the prayer of St Francis:

‘where there is hatred, sow love,

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy.’
And, as we go out marching in the light of God, and into the world, 

and build communities of love, 

we have the promise from the gospel of Matthew:
Jesus says: ‘I will be with you always, to the end of the age.’

['marching' was a nod to the singing group, who were following the sermon

with the song 'We are marching in the light of God']

The Trinity:

it’s a mystery.

One that will continue to puzzle

until the end of time.

Thousands of words will be added to those already written;

all trying to comprehend the incomprehensible

and never really succeeding.

But in the end, what matters is this:

love:

the love of the God who dwells

in perfect community

the love of God whose love is limitless, immeasurable

and welcomes us in -

the love that creates a place at the table for all...

And, as God loves,

so we are to reflect that love

because:

we believe in God:

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

the Three-in-One and One-inThree,

God in three persons,

Blessed Trinity.

Amen.

'Stones and stories': sermon for Easter 5A

Oh dear... could try harder.  Was so *not* in sermon-writing mood...in the end, just a lot of thoughts desperately in search of a sermon - with a little Manicheism thrown in for good measure...Augustine would be most disappointed :(

Nevertheless, a sermon, of sorts, based primarily on the 1 Peter text.

1 Peter 2:2-10 and John 14:1-14

Tell me the old, old story

of unseen things above,

Of Jesus and His glory,

of Jesus and His love.

This last week, I’ve been thinking about stories...

and I’d quite like to do a wee straw poll with you:

what are some of your favourite stories? 

[allow folk to respond] 

But what’s all this business about stories got to do with our bible passages, I hear you ask...

And that’s a very good question! 

Last week, we thought about the question:

'what is the Church...?'

We looked at the very beginnings of the Church, as described in the Book of Acts,

and we were reminded that the Church... is us...

the people of God, called into community -

a learning community;

a worshipping community;

a sharing and supportive community;

a community of thanksgiving and praise.

This week, developing the theme a little more as we heard the reading from 1^st Peter,

we’ve another aspect to add, which is:

a story-telling community.

In this, I’m very much thinking of Peter’s description 

of the followers of Jesus as ‘living stones’ -

‘come to the Lord, the living stone...

come, as living stones’

Stones and stories - what do they have to do with each other?

Let’s first look at the context in which this letter is written.

Within the letter itself we have an idea of the intended, original audience:

in Chapter One, the writer,

who may or may not be Peter,

addresses his readers as

‘God’s chosen people who live as refugees scattered throughout the provinces’ of what we refer to as Asia Minor.

The term ‘God’s chosen’ appears several times throughout the letter -

an encouragement for folk who appear

to be not only refugees, but along with that, scattered - or separated - from home, family, the larger body of Christians.

Following the opening greeting, the writer begins to talk of ‘trials’ and ‘sufferings’ -

there’s the possibility here that this wee, scattered lot of people are suffering persecution for their faith.  However, this might just refer to the difficulties of following Jesus, and how that impacts upon the general customs and culture of the day.

Within the letter, the writer also gives some practical tips to assist with living life as a follower of Jesus.

Overall, the aim of the letter is to encourage and affirm these ‘chosen’, possibly persecuted refugees... to assure them that:

• there is a point and purpose to their lives;
• that they’ve been liberated from darkness into light;
•  that they are part of the body,
• that they belong to God and
• that they can rely on God, who calls them His people...‘living stones’.

Stones...and stories:

The stone metaphor is an odd one:

stones are more associated with...

well, just ...

sitting there being rather lifeless...

but here in our reading,

each stone is infused with the Spirit of God -

alive - active:

these stones live...

not unlike dry bones, in a dusty valley, also live, once God’s Spirit breathes upon them, remembering that passage from several weeks back from Ezekiel.

But whether bones, or stones,

God brings life - even when it appears unthinkable, impossible...

but then, God managed to roll away a stone

from a tomb

and out sprang the promise of resurrection and new life:

Jesus -

the stone that the builders rejected -

the living stone...

With God,

all things are possible, even living stones...

living stones that have a story to tell.

Stones and stories:

if these living stones could speak,

what would they say?

1^st Peter provides some clues.

The living stones, God’s own people, have been:

'chosen to proclaim the wonderful acts of God, who called you out of darkness and into his wonderful light...’

Living stones;

story-telling stones.

As I read about stones and of ‘proclaiming God’s wonderful acts’, I couldn’t help but cast my mind back to Palm Sunday...

the crowds are being gloriously, riotously cheerful - it irks the Pharisees, who complain to Jesus

and ask him to tell the crowd to be quiet.

His joyful response?    

‘I tell you, if they keep quiet, these stones would shout aloud!’

So then, our Peter passage is not the first time we encounter the possibility 

of lifeless stones becoming living stones -

story-telling stones.                                                     

A story that hints at our communal identity -

who we are...

and, whose we are.

But what is the story?

In the words of the old hymn:

Tell me the story slowly,

that I may take it in,

That wonderful redemption,

God’s remedy for sin.

                                                                          

Redemption: it’s one of those big theological words that gets pulled out, 

and dusted off, every now and then.

It’s a word most often associated with what happened to Jesus on the Cross

and how it impacted upon the whole of humanity.

And over the course of centuries,

theologians have been at it hammer and tongs trying to work that out.

Stones and stories:

One of my favourite writers, Paulo Coelho once commented 

that when all was said and done, there were really only four themes when it came to stories:

a love story between two people,

a love triangle,

the struggle for power,

and the story of a journey.

In a sense, the story the living stones tell is a combination of these four themes...

the love story?

- of God for humanity;

the love triangle?

- the alluring whispers of a serpent in a garden;

the struggle for power?

- between light and dark, goodness and evil;

the story of a journey? -

exile from the garden, and the long journey back to that first love,

the journey back to God...

But also, another journey -

God’s journey - involving the vulnerability of incarnation:

of becoming one of us

to show us the way

in and through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus

It is a story of pain and sacrifice,

love and separation

redemption and reunion - for love always wins.

This is the story that God’s living stones proclaim.

Gathered together here, as God’s people,

as his living stones,

each one of us comes with our own story

- of whose we are ... family ties, connections, relationships;

of where we’ve come from,

where we are,

and where we hope to go

as we journey along our life’s path...

Each story different, unique...

and yet, as we gather together as God’s people,

each of us shares in a common story:

the story that brings us here today...

The story passed down to us by the living stones of the church 

going all the way back to the very earliest living stones...

All of us, church visible and invisible, building a spiritual house 

'where love can dwell and all can safely live.'

As God’s living stones

as God’s story-telling stones,

how might we tell the story?

How might we proclaim the marvellous acts of the one 

who has brought us out of darkness into his marvellous light?

How might we live God’s story in our lives this week?

How might we:

Tell out the old, old story,

tell out the old, old story,

Tell out the old, old story,

of Jesus and His love.

Let’s pray:

Holy God, we give you thanks
for the gift of Your Son, Jesus
the Word, the way,
the truth, 

the living stone,
who expands our
limited understanding
with outstretched arms
of love.

As your living stones

breathe your Spirit upon us

renew us

refresh us

excite us

that we may go out into your world 

to proclaim your marvellous works.

In Jesus’ name

amen.*

*prayer borrowed and slightly added to, with thanks to RevGals!

Yr C - 'I sing a song of the saints of God': sermon for Sunday 18 August, 2013

A sermon based on Hebrews 11:29-12:1-2
[part of a three sermon series]
not one of my better efforts but at this point, something is better than nothing..
 
As I was thinking about our text from the letter to the Hebrews which we heard earlier this morning, an old hymn decided to wander into my head –
and I’m not sure if it’s one that’s particularly well-known in Scotland, so bear with me if that’s the case...
It begins with these lines:
I sing a song of the saints of God, 
Patient and brave and true, 
Who toiled and fought and lived and died 
For the Lord they loved and knew.


It’s a cracking hymn, and I'm more than a little vexed that it's not in CH4, but never mind.
A particular verse in the hymn has always made me stop and think, and occasionally made me scratch my head –
the lines in the verse tell us a little about some of these saints of God:  
one was a soldier, 
and one was a priest, 
And one was slain by a fierce wild beast; 
And there's not any reason, no, not the least, 
Why I shouldn't be one too.
Now, I was never too sure *why* I should want to be a fierce wild beast, but never mind.

At any rate, this morning I find myself standing before you about to preach on that most un-Presbyterian of topics ‘saints’ – surely, Johnny Knox would be rolling in his grave underneath the car park behind St Giles Cathedral...
Against that is the thought that, every communion Sunday,
we say the Apostles Creed, in which we declare that we believe in
‘the communion of saints’,
So, given that, a sermon on saints it is.

Our verses from Hebrews this morning sounds like a roll call of the great and the good heroes of the faith – the saints of God, named and unnamed.
We start off with a list of named saints:
Moses – and the Israelites who followed God and who walked across the Red Sea as if on dry land;
The Israelites again, who, in faith, marched around the walls of Jericho and saw those walls come tumbling down...
The walls of the city in which contained Rahab, who through faith, had welcomed the Israelite spies...
an act which saved her life and which eventually saw her name appear as one of the ancestors of David and Jesus, in the genealogy you find at the beginning of the gospel of Matthew...

The list of faithful heroes continues, naming
Gideon, Barak,
Samson the strong and mighty,
Jepthah,
King David – beloved of God,
Samuel, and the prophets.
All apparently terrifically successful –
through faith, they fought whole countries and won.

And then we move to the exploits of some of the unnamed heroes of the faith:
some shut the mouths of lions
others put out fierce fires or escaped death by the sword.
God made them strong and gave them victory in battle...
And then there were women of such faith that dead relatives were raised back to life...
We read this list and it is easy to be impressed:
less ‘heroes’ of the faith, and more like ‘superheroes’.
These folk are winners in the race of faith...
it’s not hard to be inspired – they have the ‘wow’ factor.

But our writer to the Hebrews is not finished with us yet:
A bit like those old sales adds - you can almost hear him say:
‘but wait, there’s more’
And so there is.
But this list is rather different.
It’s a little edgier...
 And quite a lot darker in tone:
We hear of those whose faith resulted in torture and death,
Of mocking, whipping, and being placed in chains and imprisoned.
Of being stoned, or sawn in half,
or, who, unlike our first list, did not manage to escape the sword.
And of those who survived who were so poor that they had only the skins of sheep or goats to wear, and who slept rough in caves or holes in the ground...
Unlike our first list of victorious heroes, this latter list is filled with folk who, in their own life-time did not necessarily see the obvious fruits of victory,
as they ran the race that had been set before them.
Here is a case in point of faith truly being “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen,” as we talked about last week.
It was faith that enabled these folk to hope for a better world,
a brighter future,
To hope that darkness would be swallowed up in victory –
even it they themselves might not be alive to see that victory.

What are we to make of these lists?
Of this great cloud of witnesses to the faith who, following in Jesus’ footsteps picked up the baton of faith and ran with determination the race that the writer to the Hebrews talks of?
We sit back and read of these saints of God, and of their adventures in the faith,
sometimes awed,
sometimes shocked,
and occasionally horrified...
and maybe somewhere deep down we perhaps think that it is all very well for them:
they were, after all, exceptional and extraordinary people.
Well, yes, but no.

I discovered another list – though not in the book of Hebrews:
a list that tells another side to some of the saints of God... these people who allowed themselves to be open to God and to be used by God to do mighty things.
Check this list out:
Noah got drunk
Abraham was too old
Sarah laughed at God’s plans
Isaac was a daydreamer
Jacob was a trickster
Joseph, well he was a show off in that fancy coat of his.
Moses stammered
Miriam gossiped
Gideon was insecure
Samson – let’s just say ‘my, my my, Delilah!’
Rahab was a prostitute
Ruth was a foreigner
David was an adulterer and murdered Bathsheba’s husband.
Isaiah...er, preached naked for three years
Jeremiah struggled with depression
Jonah ran from God...
and in the New Testament:
Zaccheus was too small
the woman at the well had had five husbands
Martha was a worrier
Mary Magdalene was demon-possessed
Peter denied Christ
the Disciples fell asleep while praying in the garden
Thomas doubted
Timothy was too young
 Paul was too religious
Lazarus ...
Lazarus was dead!
These ‘superheroes’ of the faith... were everyday flawed and fallible human beings, who God called.
Now I want to show you a picture of some of the saints of God I know...
and you might know some of them too...
[turn on the live stream camera or have large mirror and a prepped person to use it - so congregation see themselves reflected]
There they are... look around...
Look at the saints of God.
You – yes you.

You are God’s fabulous and fallible and faithful saints
Called not to straighten your lives out before serving God...
but called as you are for who you are,
and with all the gifts you have been given by God, to use where you are.
And while you might not ever be called to wrestle with fierce wild beasts,
you are called to participate in the great race:
And it’s not about being the fastest man or woman alive, like Usain Bolt, nor is it about being the strongest, or the fittest individual...
This is a team effort.
It’s a great relay race that generation upon generation of Christians have been involved in –
whether they’ve run, skipped, jumped, walked, hobbled, limped, wheeled or dragged themselves, or propelled themselves forward through the sheer power of thought if they weren’t able to physically move...
All passing on the baton of faith to the next generation and keeping the flame of faith alive.
And here and now, we are that generation who are running the race, holding the baton;
everyday saints just getting on with life.
And if you sometimes don’t think you’re good enough,
or sometimes struggle to believe that God calls you to run so that the baton can be passed along for the next leg of the great relay race,
there’s quite a neat line from Oscar Wilde who observed that
 ‘every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future’.

The last verse in the hymn ‘I sing a song of the saints of God’ states:  
They lived not only in ages past, 
There are hundreds of thousands still. 
The world is bright with the joyous saints 
Who love to do Jesus' will. 
You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea, 
In church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea; 
For the saints of God are just folk like me, 
And I mean to be one too.

God doesn’t call superheroes – they don’t really exist except for in comic books.
God calls us:
Calls us, imperfect yet beloved, people to fix our eyes on Jesus,
the pioneer and perfector of our faith:
calls us to run the race.
And, as we do so, we are cheered on by that great cloud of witnesses who remind us that, as we run, we are not alone –
we run the race with everyday saints past and present and are a part of something so much bigger than we can possibly imagine...
but in faith we have hope:
hope for a brighter future -
We may or may not see that future, but we run the race knowing who holds the future in his hands.
And to God alone be all glory...

Let’s pray: God of all the nations, you rescued your people out of the Red Sea and delivered Rahab from battle; you rescue the lowly and needy from injustice and tribulation. Surround us with so great a cloud of witnesses that we may have faith to live by your word in our time, courage to persevere in the race set before us, and endurance in the time of trial. Amen

mud wrestling in the Christian community

Gazillions of years ago, as a fresh-faced wee Christian, I went off for a couple of years to what was then known as the Bible College of Queensland.  Being from a more middle-of-the-road style denomination, the Uniting Church in Australia, I confess there was certainly some culture shock upon entering a more...conservative environment.

Initially, a strange new language comprised of odd acronymns, which, I realised later, were actually forms of shorthand for such things as missionary societies or various theological dogmas: PSA - penal substitutionary atonement; TULIP, which was not, as I thought, a reference to pretty spring flowers, but Calvinist points of reference....  And then, odd cultural differences: on inviting a friend to come to a dance, she observed that she didn't dance.  Blithely I piped up to say that it was alright, as it was very informal and the band taught and called the dance steps.  Ah, no.  Not that she couldn't dance, but rather she wouldn't dance. 

But why this little trip down memory lane?  Ah, who said teachers aren't influential?  I believe it was in a course entitled 'Principles of Christian Living', taught by a chap named Ivan Bowden, that I first encountered this week's lectionary readings, Philippians 4:1-13.  It was a discussion on unity/ harmony/ living peacefully with one another...and in the reading, we encountered two women who rejoiced in the names of Euodia and Syntyche.  Suffice to say that there had been a little friction and disharmony between said women: the writer of the epistle noting that the behaviour brought discredit not only upon them but upon the community.  Mr Bowden, to illustrate a point imagined a dialogue between 'you're odious' and 'so touchy'.  Of course, every time I happen upon this reading, these two poor women are now forever cursed to go through life with the variant names. 

Here, too, is a place where at times it is truly unhelpful to be a visual thinker: the two also end up in my head in an ongoing mud-wrestling situation....  Although, given the various disputes that arise in church and threaten to cause disunity, there's sommat to be said for mud wrestling as the way forward with regard to dispute settlement, as well as a useful way of getting the congregation to focus on the one thing... as well as a potential source of income for the roof fund.  

Yeah, I wonder how that might preach...?!

the trouble with interpretation...

The picture at left caught my eye today and set me off on a train of thought with regard to matters of interpretation....

One of the ever-present 'features' of the Voldemort discussion surrounds interpretation of scripture.
Some cry: 'plain meaning of the text'.
Others cry: 'it's more nuanced'.
Yet others just sigh in despair and shake their heads wondering what all the fuss is about.
All in our own way attempting to get on with the job of living, loving, and bumblingly trying to serve God.

What are the implications of interpretation when it comes to discipleship?
What if our understanding is all wrong, or misguided?
Conversely, how can we know we may have just managed to get it right?
I think 1 Cor. 13 'for we know in part' is helpful - or provides me with some small comfort.  We mess up: we don't have the whole picture, and the passage continues with the sense that we 'see through a glass darkly', as the KJV  phrases it so poetically.  I don't often go to the Greek, as my proficiency is pretty rubbish, but occasionally, it's a useful way of seeing a well known passage/verse/word in a different way, as the eye doesn't just slide over as easily.  For some reason, I was drawn to do so with this well-loved chapter, and in doing, I've had one of those personal little 'aha' moments, looking at the Greek word translated as 'darkly', αινιγματι... where our English word 'enigmatic' comes from.

Of course we're all bumbling along: why should this take us by surprise?  We worship God known, and yet unknown.  In faltering footsteps we make our way in faith and attempt to follow our energetic, enabling, and enigmatic God.  We explore the journey of the people of God throughout time and various places as they wander and ponder and stumble in the dim half-light of revelation.  We hear the stories of Jesus, and of those who followed him as they furrow their brows and puzzle over just who he might be. 
We look for clues, and take our cue, at times, from them.  And as we do, we see a history of getting it wrong, and getting it gloriously right, and all the stuff that there is in between.
It's a humbling thing.
It's a scary thing.
What if we get it wrong?
Perhaps in that fear of making mistakes,
perhaps in the fear of the unknown, we surround ourselves in the strange comfort of rules and regulations nit-picked to the nth degree that, instead of helping free us, not only bind us, but bind others.

Law - rules and regulations - often get a bad press.
Personally, I think God must be Presbyterian: the ten commandments are helpful guidelines to assist us to live life decently and in good order.  Laws, codes of practice, however one wishes to describe them, are, in their very essence, relational.  The ten commandments are communitarian in context: being in communion with God and one another, being in harmony in both our vertical and horizontal relationships.  This is why the psalmist can describe those who follow God's law as happy:
Ps.119: 1-2 'Happy are those whose way is blameless, who walk in the way of the Lord.  Happy are those who keep his decrees, who seek him with their whole heart.'
Or link law and delight together - surely an oxymoron :) :
Ps. 119: 16, 77, 174 - 'I will delight in your statutes; I will not forget your word'/ 'your law is my delight'.

Historically, has there been a shonky interpretation of the word 'law' by the Church when it comes to following God, I wonder?
Has 'law' been misinterpreted and used as a tool to beat people down over the centuries - the ultimate 'power-tool', in effect?
Is law about power...or about love?  
Thinking of the psalmist's delight in God's law, I wonder if seeking after God whole-heartedly might incline us to use the law as a means of grace, building people up, setting the captives free...creating a little foretaste of the kin-dom of heaven on earth and furthering our journey into God, both enigmatic and known? And linking back to 1 Cor. 13... is the law of the Lord actually all about love?
In the end, does love...win?

Pentecost...2011

Happy birthday Church!
May the Spirit inspire us to understand that God's love is beyond our wildest imaginings;
that we are beautifully and wondrously made;
that the great love of God is revealed in the Son and every barrier has been broken.
May the Spirit break down the fences we build and widen our horizons -
that we become dreamers of dreams and hope-filled visionaries...
that we live our lives in openness, humility, and love.  Amen.

And in a change of tone... stumbled across this very, very, hilarious terribly dramatic video reading of the Pentecost story.  Enjoy... :)

a Sunday song

From the lectionary for today -

Colossians 2: 9-10
For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have come to fullness in him, who is the head of every ruler and authority. 

The song is 'Chi Rho', by Iona.
The picture to the right is 'Christ Enthroned from the Book of Kells, the subject of the song.





Colour of green

Green for the vine

For the leaves and the branches

The tree of life

Colour of red

Red for the wounds

That are deeper than I can know

How deep the flow

By Him all things, were created

By Him all things, were created

And the fullness, of the Godhead

Is in Him

Chi-Rho

Colour of gold

Gold for a throne

For the light that is blazing

From His face

Colourless white

For purity

White as snow, the colours flow

The mystery of Chi-Rho

By Him all things, were created

By Him all things, were created

And the fullness, of the Godhead

Is in Him

Chi-Rho

By Him all things, were created

By Him all things, were created

And the fullness, of the Godhead

Is in Him, Chi-Rho

In Him, Chi-Rho

In Him, Chi-Rho

In Him, Chi-Rho

'I just want some peace!' A sermon for Sunday 4th July, 2010 Yr C

Readings:

Isaiah 66: 10-14

Galatians 6:1-10

Luke 10: 1-11, 16-20

Let us pray:

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight o Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen

A friend of mine was telling me a story about her older sister.

She’d had a hard day at work:

everybody wanting her attention,

all their needs terribly urgent and needing sorted immediately.

Her own work had suffered as a result.

So, she was very grumpy and frustrated by the end of the day.

She got back home and immediately had to get dinner organised for the family,

put a load of washing on,

feed the cat,

make sure the kids weren’t strangling each other.

And after dinner, sitting down:

more questions, more tasks,

no space to breathe or be...

Finally she snapped and yelled

‘I just want some peace!’

Utter silence filled the house.

A minute or so later, her 2 year old came up, looked at her with his big blue eyes full of care and love,

and in his desire to help his mummy,

he handed her a bag of frozen peas...

And in his doing it, she both got her peas, her perspective, and her peace back.

Ever since my friend told me that story, I’ve just loved it:

Loved it for its sweetness

Loved it for the misunderstanding gesture kindly meant:

Getting it wrong and yet, in the end,

through that risk-taking gesture,

actually getting it very right.

Peace.

What does it mean to be a bringer of peace to a world full of restless disquiet?

Peace.

It is a small word that carries an enormous weight of meanings on its back.

It’s a word packed with yearning and longing –

a yearning and longing that has echoed down through all the centuries of human existence...

In our Old Testament reading this morning,

that yearning is expressed by the prophet in terms of a new heaven and a new earth.

We heard about the city of Jerusalem portrayed as a mother in labour... with God as midwife...

And then a child is born:

a child that grows and flourishes,

is nourished and nurtured and comforted by God...

there is prosperity and national peace.

And yet...

It is an odd peace,

a tenuous peace –

The writer talks of God’s indignation against his enemies...

Peace is dearly bought

and in order to preserve it

there is the possibility that it may only be

done through struggle...

and, sadly, we are all only too well aware that the struggle for peace in and around Jerusalem continues even now.

Peace...

In our New Testament reading in Galatians, peace is also being sought:

Paul calls upon the Galatians to live peacefully amongst one another:

When people have transgressed –

when they’ve ‘crossed the line’,

Paul urges the Galatians to use gentleness in the way they go about restoring the relationships that have been damaged;

They are to bear one another’s burdens;

To ask tough questions of themselves not just each other...

To work for the good of all

and to never weary in doing what is right.

It’s a blueprint for harmonious living –

a way to demonstrate the peaceable,

the peaceful kindom of God.

Peace...

And what of our gospel reading?

Jesus sends out the 70/ 72 on a mission and they are given detailed instructions...

and the one instruction that really has stuck with me this week concerns words –

the words Jesus tells his followers to use:

the message of the Prince of Peace is that his disciples use words of peace.

The 70 are told that whenever they come to a house, the very first thing they’re to say is:

‘peace be to this house’...

The mission is to go into unchartered territories,

carrying little else than a staff,

and to clothe themselves in words of peace.

To be peace-speakers,

Peace bringers to the places they go.

And to accept the hospitality they find when they go to these places, armed only with their peaceful words.

Now apparently, the root word from which hospitality comes from, takes in both host and hostile:

So in ancient near eastern cultures –

where hospitality was a sacred duty –

it was also a risky business:

Was the host entertaining someone who was hostile... or friendly?

So in that context, it seems to have made enormous sense that Jesus instructed his followers to state their peaceful intentions immediately upon arrival – to allay the fears of their hosts.

Because I strongly suspect that it’s not war which is the opposite of peace, but fear.

Fear of the unknown,

Fear of the different:

Fear of attack which drives people to make a pre-emptive strike...

and hurtle down the path to counter-strike and escalating conflict.

Peace.

Peace be to this house...

Two thousand years on -

here and now

as followers of Jesus in a post 9/11 time which seems to be so fear-filled, so fearful...

What does it mean for us, to be bringers of peace to a world full of restless disquiet?

If we listen to, and watch, the news from around the world

it can feel like the mission of peace is hopeless in the face of such overwhelming conflict and human tragedy.

The media visually bombards us with the

sights and sounds and effects of war

on a daily basis.

In order to cope with the horror of it all

we can become... numb to what seems almost the inevitability and normality of it.

We can find ourselves asking:

What’s the point?

How can I, one little person, possibly make a difference in the face of all of that?

There’s a fear that we can’t do anything at all

and that fear can paralyse us from even entertaining thoughts of trying to do something, anything that might make a difference.

On the other hand....

I believe it was Anita Roddick who once said:

If you think you're too small to have an impact, try going to bed with a mosquito in the room!

We are followers of the Prince of Peace,

who bids us, as he did the 70 so long ago

to be peace bringers...

it is our prophetic task:

to speak the words of peace in a world crying out

‘I just want some peace!’

And fumbling and falteringly,

armed with nothing more than peace words,

somehow we must take the risk and bring peace into the world.

And I wonder how we even begin to get our heads around this task -

this overwhelming, awesome task that Jesus entrusts us with.

And my own sense is, that we can only start from where we are and who we are.

There’s an old song that goes:

‘Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.’

Peace.

Peace be to this house... 

The process of peace starts with ourselves: 

Paul asks the Galatians to examine themselves, before pointing fingers or expecting too much of their neighbours,

or puffing themselves up with thoughts about how utterly excellent they are....

The process of peace starts with ourselves as we ask hard questions about what it is that causes the disquiet that we might have within us...

can we be people of peace if we are not at peace with ourselves?

I wonder if peace is like ripples in a pond:

Jesus at the centre as Prince of Peace

saying to each one of us:

Peace be with you...

And as we find the peace of the Prince of Peace,

the ripples spreading out, touching our households as peaceful and harmonious ways of living together are found

and spreading further to ...

our street –

our neighbours, our local area,

our church community gathered here...

eventually spreading until the words of peace touch the very edges of the world.

Or perhaps the process of peace is a little like a domino effect:

as each one of us determines to never grow weary of doing right, and follows the path of the Prince of Peace...

and speaks words of peace...

perhaps it causes all the little dominoes of fear to begin to topple?

I don’t know.

But what I do know is that each one of us, whether we like it or not,

is not utterly independent:

as John Donne put it:

‘No man is an island... ‘

We are each of us part of the whole of humanity:

connected.

Whatever we do

whatever choices we make affects others.

How each one of us chooses to deal with the fears that attack our own peace,

impacts upon not just ourselves but others.

So, do we set up a spiral of violence when we choose to lash out and attack - when our fears get the better of us?

Do we snap at someone and take offence where there is none,

because underneath our own fear of our inadequacy has been getting to us?

Do we condemn others for not doing something in a way that we think is the ‘right’ way,

because underneath,

we are fearful that our own way is being challenged?

Do we dehumanise people who are ‘different’ to us by giving them labels such as

‘asylum seeker’, ‘druggie’, ‘ned’, ‘feminist’ or ‘homo’,

because underneath, we are afraid of that which we cannot understand

and afraid that in some indefinable way these people threaten our very way of life?...

What are the fears that lurk deep within which bring us disquiet and disturb our peace...

Do our own undealt with fears set up a storehouse of potential conflict?

Or, do we choose instead, to test our fears, grounded in the peace that is given to us by the Prince of Peace?

And having tested ourselves do we choose instead to be counter-cultural –

to reverse the spiral of violence with words of peace?

Peace.

Peace be to this house...

On that first Easter day, words of peace were uttered in the garden by the angel of the Lord to the women: ‘Do not be afraid’...

Later, in an upper room, appearing to his disciples, Jesus’ first words were: ‘peace be with you’

The Prince of Peace speaks words of peace to us,

and to our ‘houses’ –

both internal and external.

And as we accept those words of peace into our own lives we begin a life-long task of speaking peace,

bringing hope and bringing peace into our world full of restless disquiet.

Of this lifelong task, Brazilian theologian and poet, Ruben Alves says:

‘Let us plant dates even though those who plant them will never eat them.

We must live by the love of what we will never see.

It is a ...stubborn commitment to the future of our grandchildren.

Such disciplined love is what has given prophets, revolutionaries, and saints the courage to die for the future they envisaged. They make their own bodies the seed of their highest hope.’

Peace.

Peace be to each one of us

And peace be to this house...

Let us pray:

Peace-giving God

Take away the fears that hold us paralysed,

Unable to be about the mission of peace that you have given to us.

Teach us to be your people of peace –

In our homes, in our neighbourhoods,

in our town... in your world

We ask this in the name of the Prince of Peace

Amen.