The Lost Sheep

 Tomorrow in the Sunday lectionary we will be reading Matthew's version of the Lost Sheep parable. If you are thinking that you have heard enough explanations about this parable (whether Matthew's or Luke's version) check out a post I put together a while back comparing the canonical versions with the version fo the parable in the Gospel of Thomas. (Here) It is different. In Thomas, the shepherd seeks the lost sheep not because it is lost/weak, but because the shepherd loves it more. An elitism foreign to the canonical versions. The New Testament takes great pains to reiterate God's universal love for all of creation. God has no favourites. Jesus didn't come just for those with esoteric knowledge.

Having been hard green-left thirty or more years ago, I know how tantalising it is to think that God does have favourites. Christianity's insight (derived from a resurrected and vindicated victim) that the voice of the victim is the voice of God. This is not meant to be an ideological tool to make new victims. It is the sensitivity to the victim and our mutual making of victims that comes with the territory of being a follower of Jesus. But, without the conversion to the way of Jesus himself, this insight is distorted into a new ideology wherein to have any moral ground one must be a victim or speak on behalf of a victim.  The result? Look at where we are now in the West. New victims, self-righteousness, revenge, we have it all.

Christ's Coats of Many Colours

We had fun at Almost Like Church yesterday talking about Joseph's coat of many colours. The essential point behind the kids' talk was that Joseph relished his father's favouritism at the expense of his brothers. And they resented him for it. If it weren't for the great ending of reconciliation Joseph would not be remembered positively. But the essential point was that Jesus, the favoured Son, doesn't hoard God's love but spreads it. In fact, this is the heart of the gospel: God's love for us in Christ through the Spirit brings us to the intimacy shared by (to use traditional language) Father and Son to the extent that there is nothing more to give. Jesus does not evoke envy (nor feel envious towards us) because he is not our rival (nor are we his rivals) for the Father's love. In this sense, we are all given a coat of many colours through Christ and the Spirit.

Come to think of it, there's probably a decent adult sermon in that.

The Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds

There are times to make judgements, about ourselves and others. Decisions need to be made, actions undertaken, help to be given. However, I’ve learnt that once we make the judgement (this is who they are, this is what they are like, etc.) we stop learning about ourselves/others. The conversation ends. This is who they are … So, although judgements are necessary at times, I find it helpful to make the judgement temporary and to once again open up the conversation of learning about others and myself.

The parable of the wheat and the weeds (Matt 13:24-30, 36-43) appears, at first glance, to be a parable of judgement. But it is a parable asking us to delay judgement. It is God who judges and God’s envoy who will sift at the end of the age. We are not asked to judge. (cf. Matt 7:1-5)

The death and resurrection of Jesus bear the mark of this eschatological judgement. (Rom 6:10; 8:1; 2Cor 5:19; Heb 7:27) God, in Christ, is delaying judgement. (2Pet 3:8-10)

The above reading of the parable of the wheat and weeds might provide a way in for some people who struggle with the language of Christ bearing our sin. Without touching on how the death of Jesus delays judgement, the language of the graceful delay of judgement on God’s part in the death and resurrection of Jesus is important to recognise.

The Martyrdom of Stephen

A short reflection on the martyrdom of Stephen here.

God's Preferential Option for the Poor?

This past week I had an interesting discussion on two separate occasions about God’s (alleged) preferential option for the poor. That God cares for those neglected in human communities seems straightforward. But God’s preferential option for the poor? In defence of the statement that God prefers the poor proponents cite a vast array of biblical material that does indeed support God’s care for the neglected and ostracised, and pronounces a fearsome judgment on those who fail to care or even notice. But preferential option? Sounds resentful. But to say so is often seen as politically incorrect in the church. And if you do question this new orthodoxy of God's preference, someone will answer that it is easy for a rich person to say that. (‘Rich’ can also be substituted with western/male/white/heterosexual/Christian/tenured priest, etc.) If I were to use the language of ‘preferential option’ (which I haven’t for years), I might say something like ‘God’s preferential option for the innocent (of whatever they are accused) victim’ without in any way dismissing the biblical affirmation of God’s care for the neglected and ostracised. But I don’t use ‘preferential option’ in respect of God because God is beyond that kind of resentment. The (innocent of what they are accused of) victim gains an epistemological opportunity to understand what we – human beings and our communities and history – are, and this wisdom is given to us through the revelation of the cross and resurrection of Jesus.  The innocent victim has an epistemological advantage that can bring with it transformation, particularly shown in repentance and a drive toward reconciliation. Ministry grounded in repentance and reconciliation brings in the wounded and forgotten, the poor and excluded. Without resentment.

The Gospel and Tragedy

Struggling for an Easter Day sermon at this late stage? Or would like a point of reflection  on the death and resurrection of Jesus? Check out this post from David McDougall.

But God Intended It For Good

It always seemed to me that Joseph was having a little revengeful fun at the expense of his brothers before he finally revealed himself to them. (Gen 42-45.) But reflecting on the reaction of Judah to the suggestion that Benjamin be left behind has changed my mind. (Gen 44:18-34) Judah has learned something of the evil that he and his brothers perpetrated on Joseph, and at the suggestion of sacrificing the next favoured brother, instead offers himself. So not only has he learned that betraying a brother is wrong, he has even been able to give up his resentment toward the (latest) favoured brother and rise above his father's continued poor parenting. He will give himself up for a favoured brother and out of pity for a father who favours one brother over the rest. The 'journey' Joseph took his brothers on has borne fruit in Judah. That little part of the world was a better place for Judah's new insight and repentance. Add to this Joseph's forgiveness even of his recalcitrant brothers, and the food relief provided by Joseph for his family, and we can affirm that, in this instance, good did come out of evil.  "You intended evil, but God intended it for good." (Gen 45:5;  50:20) Joseph too, presumably, has learnt something along the terrible journey of being sold into slavery in a foreign land. Just at that point when he could have sought revenge upon his brothers, or at the very minimum, pointed out their evil while forgiving them, he places their actions on a broader canvas of God's purposes.

Does anybody learn much at all except through suffering? Gratitude seems to grow depth in people, although often the transformation is not through the kind of gratitude that fears the worst, but the kind of gratitude that grows in a person who has suffered. (Even Jesus learned through suffering. See Heb 5:8.) I wish it were otherwise, and this is not an explanation or justification for evil and suffering, but an observation of real people, myself included. The theological addition is as Joseph says, God intends the evil for good. God's response to evil is not a moralistic separation from evil or a gnostic ignoring of it. God journeys into the story of human suffering, failure and evil. Hence the call of Abraham and Sarah, God's blessing of Jacob, Joseph's travails, Moses and his exile ... and  Jesus and his cross and resurrection. God can use sin to bring salvation.

And if you are looking for a kids' talk on the Joseph cycle, try something along these lines.

When God uses us to bring about good, do you think God uses the good things we do or the bad things we do? (If the answer is 'The good things" that will help the surprise in the sermon.)

So things like ... being kind to someone, sticking up for some kid being left out at school?
Not lying ... not being mean ... ("I find it hard to bring good out of bad stuff like this ... I usually have to start off fresh.") ... Definitely not selling your brother or sister into slavery and watching them dragged off to a foreign country... definitely not being part of a group that nails someone to a cross.
Definitely not. But God isn't restricted like that. God gets involved in our failures and can even bring good out of bad. Like Joseph ... like Jesus ...

The Good Samaritan

Rembrandt's The Good Samaritan

In preparing to preach on the Good Samaritan I came across a strange piece of information. The word used for 'compassion' in the New Testament has its roots in the 'wet bits' pulled out of the corpse of a victim of human sacrifice. So, if your heart was plucked out during a sacrifice in ancient Greece it would no longer be referred to as a heart but splanga-something-or-other, and it is this word that the Jewish tradition used to refer to compassion. (You can read its history in Kittel's TDNT) That's strange.

But to turn to the parable itself. It has struck me for a while now the clever way that Jesus pushes beyond compassion in this parable and undercuts the kind of moral superiority that leads to rivalry, conflict and 'sacrifice'.

Jesus the Innocent Victim (Lent Study Week 4, 2013)

Jesus the Innocent Victim

Please read Luke 23:32-49 (or segment)

Notes

Troyes (part) altarpiece

1. The passage is drenched in irony. Those who mock Jesus reject him as the messiah and the points of mockery are exactly why he is the messiah.
2. Even to the end Jesus is faithful to his mission in obedience to his Father. He has preached non-retaliation and forgiveness, invited the sinner to experience God’s acceptance through healing and fellowship, and now he prays that the Father will forgive his executioners and those who mock him. (23:34)
3. The mockery reiterates the charge of blasphemy against Jesus and deflates the expectations that his healing ministry encouraged.
4. The innocence/righteousness of Jesus is recognised by two unlikely characters, one of the criminals executed with him and the centurion (Lk 23:47 cf Mk 15:39) presumably in charge of his crucifixion. (See also 23;4, 14-16) The faithful death of Jesus evokes a change of heart amongst some of the onlookers (23:48 cf 18:13) and strengthens the resolve of even a member of the council. (23:50) The unanimity that bound together all those who condemned Jesus is beginning to unravel.

Some Questions

Have you ever discovered you were part of a unanimity of condemnation that was later proved a misjudgment? (That is, the person was innocent of the charges.)

Can you remember how you were persuaded to join in? 

And how was it that you discovered that the charges against the accused were false?

What happened next?

Where was God in all this?

And can you remember a time you were wrongly accused? Where was God in this experience?

Final Thoughts

1. The resurrection is the vindication of Jesus and the sign that those who judged Jesus, and the judgements made about him, were wrong.
   
   
2. Beware joining the unanimous crowd of condemnation! Beware the tight arguments we form in our own heads that justify our condemnation of someone we are in dispute with.
   
   
3. The resurrected Christ, still faithful to the Father, preaches repentance and forgiveness of sins, not retaliation. The disciples are wtinesses to this Jesus.

Introduction to Girard

If you are looking for an introduction to Girard you could catch Brian McLaren's PPT at a recent conference here.

Hypocrisy

If hypocrisy is defined as simply not living up to the ideals one preaches to others, then hypocrisy is not a bad thing. At least it means that I have ideals, even if I fail them.  No wonder the church is open to easy criticism on this account: we do actually believe in something which isn't all that easy to live. However, better this than believing in nothing at all and having no moral compass.

 The question is whether I am aware of my failure to live up to the ideals of the gospel and the ways in which I twist the demands of God to suit myself and exclude or oppress others. If we are aware of the gap between our own lives and the ideals of the gospel, and I let this knowledge seep into how I live and talk to others, this doesn't really deserve the accusation of hypocrisy. We just call it sin, and calls from us repentance and humility.

In today's Gospel reading from Matthew (22:15-22) Jesus accuses the Pharisees of hypocrisy. I thin we would just call it duplicity. The Pharisees pretend sincerity when all along they intend to try and trap Jesus. Jesus sees through them and cleverly slips through the trap while also embarrassing them. (They bring him a coin with a graven pagan image on it.) Although that they are acting in a way that their own faith would prohibit, and do so willingly and without any sense of caution, suggests hypocrisy.

In Matt 23 Jesus again accuses the Pharisees of hypocrisy, and this time we get some explicit content to the accusation. Although in the first few verses of Matt 23 it sounds like Jesus is equating hypocrisy with saying one thing but doing another (23:3-4), Jesus has more in mind. The rest of the chapter is an extended criticism of the hypocrisy of the Pharisees citing example after example. Jesus' criticisms revolve around superficiality, pride or self-congratulation,  and ignorance of the true demands of God (23:13-28), an ignorance (whether from a genuine blind-spot or willfully committed) that prevents others from responding to God.  And, even more sinister, all this can lead to the scapegoating of the those who point out the hypocrisy. (23:29-39; see also 22:33-46)

How do we prevent ourselves from being hypocrites? This is especially important given that we all fail to live up to the gospel and have blind-spots that prevent us from seeing the extent of our failure. A couple of things can help us in this regard.

1. Repentance for both the failures we are aware of and those we remain unaware of. This last is important because it encourages us to remain vigilant for these hidden sins. And repentance leads to humility. (Matt 23:8-12)

2. Remain in living contact with the gospel to allow it to do its inner and outer work on us. Regular, living contact with the gospel is essential. And I think this contact should be both personal (e.g. reading and reflection) as well as public exposure through the community of faith.  In the church I hear the gospel preached and see it lived, as well as meeting examples of failure to live it. All of this might help me learn something about myself and help me break out of my own small circles of self-deception and hypocrisy.

3. Judge as we would wish to be judged. (Matt 7:1-5) Repentance and humility while we are in regular contact with the gospel of grace will help us to judge as we are judged: mercifully, and with caution.  This is perhaps the best way to respond to those who like to make generalizations about 'the church' or 'Christians' or 'churchgoers' or 'priests' and label 'them' as hypocrites. It is tempting to join them in their hypocrisy by pointing out their hypocrisy in making the generalization. Better to judge as we are, and wish to be, judged.

Noah's Ark

I am doing a series with some students on 'the evil of the human heart'. I will digress into such topics as the banality of evil (compared to the 'sexiness' of evil on TV and video games). I will also do a session on the way the spiritual realm and the material world are interlaced so that we see that drug cartels are the real manifestations of the demonic, just as the legions of Rome were in the time of Jesus. I started the series this week by reading the punch-line of the Noah's Ark story. The story begins with God sending the rain to kill all living creatures because of the evil of the human heart. By the end of the story God has learned that to eradicate evil the simplistic procedure of killing all the 'evil people just doesn't work. Evil cuts through every human heart. The solution to human evil narrated in Scripture is for God to become one of us, with us, suffer and die at the hands of sinners, and be raised.

This guy made a replica ark - some people have too much time on their hands

So God learns, but guess who hasn't learned this most simple of lessons? Yes, that's right, us, humankind. Indeed, that we have not learned this is part of the evil of the human heart, perhaps even its root. (Separating the sinner and persecuting him/her). In the Noah story God learns the lesson. Of course, God didn't actually have to learn the lesson. But that we haven't learned points to our intransigence, or perhaps blindness, and arrogance. 

Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1-10)

People hated Zacchaeus for good reason. A tax collector had the force of Roman power behind him to confiscate and enslave tax debtors. He was a sinner whose depth of sin is matched by the hatred evoked among the people of Jericho. No wonder the people of Jericho grumbled at the grace displayed by Jesus toward Zacchaeus. When Jesus includes Zacchaeus in the people of God once more ("child of Abraham") he is doing more than forgiving a notorious sinner. He is also challenging the way in which human communities structure themselves around the hatred of sinners. This is also more than challenging self-righteousness, just as it is more than a call for us to love rather than hate. Jesus' inclusion of Zacchaeus is all of these things but it is also a challenge to the way in which human communities need to hate someone. And when you need a scapegoat there is no better candidate than a sinner. Choose the innocent as the scapegoat and the scapegoating might become apparent, even to ourselves. Better to choose a sinner, and use the sin as the (often large admittedly) fig leaf to hide our dumping on the scapegoat any latent anger we hold. Jesus is challenging Jericho to structure itself around inclusion certainly, and if that wasn't enough, just by the act of inclusion he is challenging the scapegoating endemic to human communities. If you doubt the process of scapegoating is at work in our communities just look at the way the newspaper or a politician can whip up hatred for a "sinner(s)". It isn't difficult to name it as manipulation, but there is something there to manipulate though. That kind of crass manipulation is reasonably easy to recognize; not so easy to recognize when we do it ourselves in a situation not pumped up by the media or unscrupulous politician.

Quintessential Jesus

 We read from Luke 14:1-14 on Sunday. 14:7-11 is not quintessential Jesus. He has taken a piece of sensible, common wisdom available in Proverbs 25:6-7. Show a little modesty is the piece of advice, and Jesus makes a more theological point, perhaps that our self-promotion will not trick God (true, and while not below Jesus to say, it just sounds a bit too safe for him), or more likely a blanket warning about success in the world. "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." (14:11) That is, the kingdom will bring down thrones and raise up the lowly (Lk 1:51-53; 6:20-26; 16:19-31; 18:9-14) There is a rawness about this saying that we want to blunt, even a little. It seems a little extreme and unfocused, to say the least. This kind of blanket assertion is found elsewhere, and early. (Jas 4:4-10; 1Pet 5:5b-6) Why didn't Jesus just go with the more reasonable, 'You can't fool God by self-promotion? Why tack on the pithy, difficult, blanket epithet?

Before answering that question, let's return to the passage in hand. The parable advising against premature self-promotion is followed by a passage quintessentially Jesus. Invite to your party those who can't repay you, or who no one else would even think of inviting! The excluded, reviled and ignored. Those who occupy a humble place in the world without choice, no matter how inflated their ego. Why?  So that we can find a home in the kingdom, because the kingdom is populated with such as these. This is more than Jesus giving us some advice to show compassion or humility. This is about the way our humanity and the world is structured. We divide, exclude, victimise and persecute. It is built into our structure of being, and the way our societies are structured. Jesus invites us to live differently by seeing the world differently. Not from the point of view of those who 'win' or want to 'win' in such a world, but from the point of view of those who 'lose'.The honoured guest, from the point of view of the kingdom,  is not famous or wealthy.

Which brings us to the beginning of today's reading, Lk 14: 1-6, the man with dropsy (edema). He is the honoured guest, and it is only Jesus who recognises him and acts. That's because Jesus chooses to see the world from the perspective of the humility of the cross. (Phil 2:5-11) The Pharisees, and a reader like me, very easily miss the point.

Returning to the question of why Jesus would make such a blanket statement as "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." (14:11), it is important to see that Jesus doesn't thinks the kingdom is about moderating the excesses of human behaviour. There is something radically wrong, cutting to the heart of our societies and the way we become who we are as members of this society. We are all implicated, and there is no escape through moderation or some kind of self-realisation that relies on one's own resources. The doctrinal name for this is Original Sin, and I will write a little more about it later in the week.

Individual Rights and the Victim Mechanism

James Alison says that our predilection for individual rights is merely the reverse of the victim mechanism. Instead of the single victim against the righteous group, individual rights pits the righteous individual against (or at least suspicious of) the potentially oppressive many. Here is what he writes:

"In exactly the same way, the modern, 'enlightened' equivalent relies on the same distortion, but from the reverse side: it is the individual who is the sacred good, imbued with inalienable rights and with an inalienable freedom and conscience. The 'many', the social other, are the threatening and dangerous element, who may at any moment fetter 'my' freedom of rights, which are always worked out over against the social other. To be able to claim the high ground of victim status is indispensable for furthering whatever cause 'I' seek to sponsor. In this case, as in the previous, there has been no escape from the founding sacrality of the victim, as indeed there cannot be without a recognition that the victim is exactly the same as the many, and that the difference is produced by a collectively held delusion." (The Joy of Being Wrong, pp. 37-38.)

The Victim Mechanism

Reading Rene Girard, or the Girardian theology of James Alison, is a converting experience. Girard sees the many against the (innocent) victim as the beginning of everything we take for granted as peculiarly human. Culture, religion, language, community, even the formation of the self and self-consciousness. At the beginning of the emergence of the (recognizably) human the violence amongst us from competition was resolved by pointing the finger in blame at an individual. They are the cause of the conflict (this is the lie of the lynchers); expelling or killing that individual will bring peace. And so it did, and still does. Humankind hid from the truth of our persecution of the innocent victim, but the mechanism did bring peace, at least of a sort. We still hide from the lie. All human culture, every individual's sense of self, is predated by our relationship to the innocent victim. There is no way around this primordial murder and its justifying lie. Religion does not escape. Religion arose, according to Girard, as a direct result of the peace brought through the death of the victim. The god(s) owned/accepted the victim, and sometimes the victim would take on royal and divine epithets.

This means that the victim mechanism, with its lie, is embedded in our societies, philosophies, politics, religions, etc. We are born into the lie because the lie is at the beginning of our culture. We are born into the lie because it is the cause of our caregivers self-consciousness. There is no 'self' that can step aside from the victim mechanism and correct the distortion. Original Sin takes on a new meaning in the light of Girard. There is no possibility of a Pelagian self-salvation by trying harder to separate ourselves from the lie within us. The lie is foundational to who we are. Salvation can only come from outside us, from the victim.

Would Jesus Go to Church?

Once a month we hold an event at Holy Innocents named QT (Question Time). The event is exactly that: speakers, questions from the audience, great live music, wine from Belair Fine Wines, and delicious snacks from Foods From the Edge. Last night the question was whether God/Jesus/you/me/anybody would/should come to church? I was the speaker for the affirmative, and not just the affirmative, but that if Jesus were going to go to church (rather than synagogue) he would go to a traditional church. I made three broad points:

First, many people find church such a disappointment. We love to point the finger or regale a good conspiracy story about the church, the Vatican, bishops, priest, monks and nuns, or the generally hypocritical group of human beings known as church-going Christians. Well, I think the church is a disappointment. We are sinners. (See here for more on this point.)  But remember, Jesus quite liked sinners. When the church forgets it is a company of sinners, Jesus would disapprove. But sinners who seem to be getting it wrong and know it? He'd hang around with us.  What is the alternative anyway? Are those who say they don't come to church because the people who go to church aren't perfect saying that they would come if we were perfect? (Like them?) If you are one of those then I am glad we aren't perfect because you'd be a bigger pain in the arse than we are already.

Furthermore, a number of years ago I suddenly realised that my disappointment in the church's failure was really just a projection of my own disappointment in my own failure. The realisation came through a hard lesson, but the lesson is simply that I'm not the messiah, the church is not the messiah, and Jesus is the messiah. Get over it people.

My second point was that many people protest against the institutionalization of Jesus and his gospel in the church. When we separate out my first point above from this protest there isn't much left except a bit of contemporary institution-bashing. The truth is that without the institution there would be no memory of Jesus left after all this time. No means for the eyewitness accounts to be carried faithfully through the generations. It would have all been lost. A dangerous memory needs an institution. The problem is not the institution as such. The problem is when the institution prevents people from seeing the gospel. The mismatch between institution and gospel is the problem. (Although remember the point about failure I made above.)

My third and final point picked up what I think is perhaps the most common complaint about church: church is boring. Indeed the local baptist church advertises with the catchy, "Do you find church boring?" The idea is that they aren't I think. Well, there are greater sins for a church than being boring. Superficiality is the greater danger, I think. Indeed, following James Alison, I think the liturgy has hit the mark when it feels a little anti-climactic. Alison contrasts what he styles 'Nuremberg' worship (Nuremberg was a preferred site of the Nazis for their mass rallies/liturgies) with 'un-Nuremberg' worship. Nuremberg worship, through building up a sense of victimization, righteous anger and the formal identification of the 'sinners' leads to the great climax of the appearance of the messiah who will save the people. Alison contrasts this with the climax of Christian worship (particularly traditional Eucharist) with the appearance of the true messiah who is 'just there', having already achieved all there is to achieve. No mass hysteria, no invitation to the congregation to feel victimised, rather the congregation knows itself to be forgiven by the victim. No need to whip the crowd into a frenzy. An anti-climax really. This fits nicely with the thesis of James K. A. Smith in his Desiring the Kingdom, where he points out that worship is all about reorienting our desire to God. The reorientation is for our benefit, redirecting our love away from the idols of our times. And worship that shifts our gaze from the shopping plaza, the AFL/Olympics/World Cup theatrics, internet games, etc., will necessarily appear boring. Otherwise it becomes the religious version of bread and circuses. Boring is good. Jesus would approve, and come to church because it is boring. It's meant to be. (At times at least.)