The Cross of Jesus: A Reflection on Love, Judgement, and Obedience (Part 2)

 Good Friday

Judgement is less like the teacher telling you off and more like Jesus on the cross. 

 Jesus is on the cross out of love. Jesus on the cross condemns the sin that crucified him. In his innocence (Lk 23:47), sin is unmasked and its true nature shown: the absence of love. (And the darkness could not overcome it. Jn 1:5)

But this judgement is also a revelation. When Pilate brings Jesus out to the crowd he says, "Behold the man!" Or is could just as easily mean, "Behold humanity!"  This is what we do to each other, and this is what we have made ourselves into. Our fall is revealed to us in the flesh of one of us, Jesus Christ. But this is more than a revelation of who and what we are. This is a double revelation: who and what we have made ourselves into to be able to do this to one another, and also a revelation of God. 

"God so loved the world ..." (Jn 3:14)

Yes, God so loved the world that he sent his only Son. In Christ God suffers and dies at the hands of sinners to show us who and what we are. Christ's death wasn't a miscalculation or a mistake on God's part, to be corrected at the resurrection. Christ loved his own to the end - to the point of death on a cross - to simultaneously reveal the depths of God's love and our need for a saviour.

  But there is a third revelation. In the crucified Jesus, who dies for love, we see our true humanity. He revealed to us our distorted humanity in his wounds. Now his wounds (the price of love) reveal to us the love that is our true calling as humans.

Today we are invited to look at the cross. It is the revelation of love and our need of God's healing love. To look at the cross of Jesus this way is to be set on the path of faith and of healing the great need within us. Look and live. We see what we are now in the broken body of Jesus; but we also see on the cross the true humanity to which we are called: A faithful humanity, obedient to the loving will of God for the sake of others.

Deeper Into Sin to be Freed (Mustard Seeds Poetry 2)

 

Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. This is the second of more to be published over the course of the year.

This poem consists of verbatim fragments from an original post on 8 April, 2022.

 

Deeper Into Sin to be Freed

During Easter we are invited 

to 'walk' the path of the saviour- 

we read the story from Gethsemane 

to tomb in dramatic form; we take 

parts other than the role of Jesus. 

We walk the road from Gethsemane 

not out of guilt, an excuse 

to self-recriminate…. 

Nor do we grovel as we walk 

a religious version of a show-trial. 

Nor is the journey chastisement 

catharsis, some kind of pagan festival. 

 

Christians walk the Via Dolorosa 

as sinners in need of a saviour, 

to get off the see-saw, 

self-recrimination, criticism of others. 

Walking the way of the cross with the saviour 

brings with it freedom, 

because we are loved, 

that's the point of the Jesus thing – 

we don't have to hide from our sin. 

We don't have to be in the centre- 

we can let God be the centre 

and receive God's love and forgiveness, 

renewal and freedom.

My Grace Is Sufficient For You (2Corinthians 12:9)

So, Scripture thinks that human contrivance – whether wealth, intellect, family, honour, or longevity – is a problem. But … not in itself. It is a problem when human contrivance drives us, forms us, and replaces God. What’s the alternative? It is tempting (I use this word deliberately because this is a temptation to be resisted) to think that we have to renounce human wisdom, wealth, planning, etc. As though it is either one or the other, and because human ingenuity is bad we need to evacuate all human agency from our lives to let God do the planning and ingenuity instead. Either one or the other.  But it just isn’t true. To think it is either us or God is using the same currency/coin in both cases. They are just on either side of the coin. 

As disciples of Jesus we renounce all false gods, including human will and ingenuity, wealth and intelligence that is not in the service of the kingdom. But, the kingdom needs our intelligence, ingenuity, wealth, etc. The problem is not human ingenuity, planning, and wisdom. Of course, the problem is when we replace God with human agency, ingenuity, wisdom, etc. But the more relevant problem might be that we try to use human ingenuity and intelligence to make sure that we don’t let human ingenuity and intelligence replace God in our lives! And that’s why this is harder than it seems. So what is the solution? It is to be rebuilt differently than the simplistic one or the other approach. We want to be people who live out of a heart that hears, "my grace is sufficient for you.” And we do that not by trying hard to stop misusing our wills, intelligence, and ingenuity, but by surrendering to God’s sufficiency. It is the hard work of grace. Of being remoulded into Christ. We do this through all the ways the Christian tradition has learnt and now teaches us. And this way includes scripture, prayer, liturgy, and doing all this in a community of faith. But to do it with intent. Not too seriously, but with intent. Human ingenuity, no matter how spiritual, will not pull us into grace. It is because God’s grace is sufficient that my human will and ingenuity can be pulled into grace. The currency, if you like, is the sufficiency of God's grace. This is the centre that God wishes to build within us and within the church.

In Jesus we see that God is not a monster of our imaginations

When bad things happen it is easy to say something like, "What did I do to deserve this?" Probably nothing in the sense of the question above. God isn't punishing us when bad things happen. Of course, if we play with fire we get burnt, that is true. But that is not the same as saying that God is the author when bad things happen. This is so important. 'The gods' did bad things, just read Greek mythology! God does not. God dies on a cross for us, we did the crucifying, God did the rising. On the cross God judges human sin by being a victim of sin and raising the innocent Jesus from the dead. The risen Jesus sends out his disciples to preach repentance and forgiveness of sins, not vengeance. It would be wildly inconsistent for the Father of the Lord Jesus to then bring disaster down on our heads. 

People can also have a tendency to misinterpret history in a similar way. An earthquake is not God's punishment. We shouldn't impute to God the disaster that follows the earthquake. People seem to have been (and still are) infatuated with end-of-the-world scenarios. Whether divinely inspired or human-induced, people continue to guess the meaning of events and interpret them as coming from a malevolent or angry god (even secularised people have their own versions of this). In the past people have been obsessed with dating 'the end', and dates still figure prominently in all kinds of secular future dooms. Jesus tells us not to misinterpret the events of history. He knew people would say all kinds of things in his name, and make all kinds of claims. So he explicitly says, don't be fooled by false messiahs, and don't see God as the author of disasters. Disasters, whether human-inspired or not, will come, but don't make God out to be a monster. (See Mark 13:1-8) 

The event to correctly interpret is Jesus, his birth, ministry, death, and resurrection. God's response to suffering, evil, and death is not to make more of it. God’s response is to overcome suffering, evil, and death by surrendering to its power. Jesus, born in a stable, crucified and raised, interprets our history. We are loved, and in Christ our future is secure, even if it doesn't feel that way at times.

The Epithet of Sinner (John 6:56-69)

In today's Gospel reading (John 6:56-69) those who follow Jesus are being pared back. They are a remnant of what they were. Jesus collected quite an array of followers, but over the course of his ministry they disappeared. The righteous are being thinned out. Today, they are thinned out because of his teaching about the bread of life and consuming him for eternal life.  And in the end Jesus would lose all his followers, and he, Jesus, would be the remnant, the righteous one. His righteousness covers me, that’s part of being redeemed. Being crucified to my old self, the self that makes crosses and all sorts of metaphorical crosses for others. 

So I like the epithet of sinner. Not just sinner. Redeemed sinner. It’s why Christians don’t mind being named as sinners. We are redeemed. But often we think of ‘sinner’ as a judgment on us. A source of shame, and a state we should escape from. Not being a sinner is preferable to being a sinner. But I prefer to see ‘sinner’ as a way of being that is my identity, how I am in the world. Not as a description that can and should be jettisoned as soon as possible. I think of ‘sinner’ as something almost permanent; this is how I am. Not a layer poured over the top of who I am that I could peel off at some point (if I stopped doing bad things perhaps) and resume being me. I think redeemed sinner is who I am. Sounds negative, and the world rejects and avoids such an epithet. (“I'm not one of those...”) Or sometimes it is embraced as an expression of a deep dislike of self. (“I’m worse than everyone else.”) But for me it is always redeemed sinner, and that changes everything. 

But doesn’t "redeemed" mean that I am no longer a sinner? No, better to keep ‘sinner’ than not. Here’s why. Sinners redeemed in Christ know that they are loved. Not because of their own righteousness (the remnant is Jesus, not Jesus and me), but because of God’s unearned and freely given mercy and love. I receive and therefore my reconstitution comes from gift. That’s what it means to be a redeemed sinner. 'To be' because of gift, the gift of love, or more precisely, the gift of a relationship of love. It changes how I see the world. It’s all gift. I am built up by receiving, in thankfulness, not in grasping or resentment. What I learn as a redeemed sinner becomes a prism through which to see all of life. It is the beginning of joy and the scent of the peace that passes all understanding.

Virtual Choirs, Perfection, Clay Jars, and Making Space for Each Other

Recently I listened to a choir conductor explain the process of creating a virtual choir performance. It requires skill, but also a sensitivity to the human because the best virtual choir performances won't be 'perfect' if they are to sound beautiful. Perfection, when put together by a computer program will sound robotic and manufactured. In creating a virtual choir performance slight 'imperfections' are introduced to make the performance not just beautiful to the ear but also human. What a great metaphor for being human, and the church for that matter.

We are clay jars (2Cor 4:7-15), but who prefers the factory manufactured clay piece to the piece of art that has within it the 'imperfections' of the human hand? The more perfect, the less human, generally. And we recognise this on the screen in those dystopian movies and TV shows that have regimented societies seeking perfection by brainwashing and violence. History is replete with real-life examples. Thank God the preferred human way of fashioning human perfection is not God's way of bringing the metamorphosis of transformation! God works with our imperfection and makes something beautiful from them.

This is not to abandon the call to perfection. (Matt 5:43-48 cf Luke 6:32-36) But it is to make space for each other's imperfections. There is something beautiful about the 'making space'. And this 'making space' is to make space for our mutual imperfections without condoning or condemning ourselves or anyone else. And in this space, we seek the transformation that comes through God's love discovered in our mutual love of one another.

Last week I spoke of the space that the cross gives human beings. (Here.) God provides space for us to be who we are, even to the point of crucifying the Son of God. And it is in this space of weakness (1Cor 1:18-25) that God brings the transformation of forgiveness and resurrection. It is a space of mutual forbearance, but not of carelessly inflicting our imperfections on each other. It is a space of discipline and a space for repentance, for experiencing the love of God in forgiveness without any hint of self-rejection.

Who is this? Mark 4:35-41

 Without the cross, the answer to the question (about Jesus) "Who is this?" pops out wrong. But with the cross and the resurrection of the crucified, the answer is Christianity. Because of the cross and the resurrection of the crucified:

1. Christianity has a sensitivity to the voice of the victim and the human tendency to scapegoat. Where Christianity has taken root in a culture so too has the moral high ground of victimhood. (Look at the West now and the place of the voice of the victim. But this sensitivity is meant to be coupled with conversion to Jesus and his way of forgiveness to prevent making new victims.)

2. Christianity teaches of a God who is sympathetic to the human condition, for in Jesus God has suffered with us in the flesh. And it is through this suffering and death as a victim of human sin that God has brought about union with us. A union with us at our lowest point, i.e. as sinners.  (See Rom 5:6-11) One can never get to this spiritual insight without the cross (and resurrection) of Jesus.

3. And then, this crucified Jesus, now risen, offers forgiveness, not vengeance or 'justice'. (John 20:19-23) There is no line in the sand that to step over brings destruction. Instead, we discover the patience of God and space for human freedom, and the means to be transformed through repentance and forgiveness.  (2Peter 3:8-9) 

4. And in the space (to sin) that we see in the cross of Jesus, we see also a model of what creation is like. As Creator God does not transgress our freedom but gives creation space and its own integrity to be who we are, and in that space to be transformed by love. (1John 4:7-12)

5. To be Christian is to know God's love revealed in Christ and his cross and resurrection. And to be judged by this love, not the judgment of others or the judgment of self-loathing. This love that has given all and reaches the depths of who we are, asks of us everything. For it is in the spiritual renunciation of all that we believe we are that we transcend the boundaries of our current humanity, bringing to light that which is hidden. In other words, we learn to be loved and to love.

Our Poverty Implies God's Fullness.

We are incomplete. As humans. It is our nature.

We see this clearly, as the poet says:

On the Mystery of the Incarnation 

It's when we face for a moment
the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
the taint in our own selves, that awe
cracks the mind's shell and enters the heart:

not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
to no innocent form
but to this creature vainly sure
it and no other is god-like, God
(out of compassion for our ugly
failure to evolve) entrusts,
as guest, as brother,
the Word.      (Denise Levertov)

There is a 'taint' in our own selves. The poet recalls for us the terrible things we humans do to each other, from truly horrific violence to all kinds of mundane emotional cruelty. But, she says, this incompletion is the way in which our hearts and minds can be transformed, converted. (“…that awe cracks the mind’s shell and enters the heart…”)

There is plenty more evidence for this lack in us, this incompleteness. Not just incorrigible human failure like ethnic violence, family and generational violence, but also the more mundane distress we have all felt in our families of origin, in our own families. Parents see themselves in their children, good and not so desirable, and wonder how the not-so-good happened despite our best efforts! It’s common. 

Utopianism is further evidence, if it is needed. We are currently in the power of all sorts of extreme utopianisms. Utopianism is a kind of denial of our incompleteness. A kind of ‘she doth protest too much’, an over-insistence to cover the fear, to protest against, and to reject of the lack in us.

Our tendency to monument building is another sign of this incompleteness. We don’t last, We are like the grass of the field, as scripture says. So, let’s build a monument to ourselves, our family, our culture. Nothing necessarily wrong with monument building, it’s just that it sometimes can be, once again, a protest, against our evanescence: we age, we fade, we disappear.

Or again, the self-help industry. It’s good, why not try to help yourself? But, again, it is an acknowledgement of our incompleteness, there is more to us than what we are now. So we try all sorts of methods to change and grow, all kinds of methods, philosophies, and irrationalities.

We are told to embrace honestly, or at least, to accept this incompleteness in the myriad ways it shows itself. To change what needs to be changed, to grow, to accept.. Of course.

But there is something missing in that account. The Christian account, while accepting what I have just said, thinks there is something more. It’s not just to accept and or change, as good as these are. It is to acknowledge our poverty, our spiritual poverty. The incompleteness doesn't mean that we just have to learn new methods of self-enquiry or a helpful technique to grow psychologically.  We are poor, but to acknowledge this is to acknowledge God’s loving fullness waiting to be poured into our hearts. Christianity doesn’t say we are poor; it says God is rich and wishes to share God’s richness with us in our poverty. We are made incomplete to be filled by God’s Spirit, to take us to a new depth of loving that we ourselves cannot bring about. And this fullness doesn’t just complete us, it brings healing. The very signs of our incompleteness can be transformed and healed in God’s fullness. Anger, hate, malice, fear, anxiety, violence and revenge, alienation and the fear of death, all can be healed and we can be taken where we were made to go.

This is Christmas. God comes as a human being, the beginning of a new humanity filled by God’s Spirit. The weak, helpless baby a sign of God’s desire to stoop down to us and take us to where God is. Not just the birth, of course. There is to come Jesus’ ministry, rejection, crucifixion, and resurrection. But God has done in Jesus what we are made not to be able to do on our own: to be a complete humanity, in the image of that same Christ. 

Idolatry and Purity

Recently, on ABC Adelaide radio, prominent educationalist and author Kevin Donnelly was cut mid-stream from the broadcast for referring to or quoting from, Mark Twain. (Ironically Donnelly was being interviewed about his latest book on free speech in education!) I'm sure the purists of the ABC were satisfied. 

Purity and extremism often follow one another. Purity is important in a recent Sunday reading today. (Exodus 32:1-14.) The people of Israel make for themselves an idol, a golden calf.  When it comes to sins, it doesn't get much worse than idolatry. Idolatry is held execrable because, among other reasons, it leads to all kinds of inhumanity. The worst idolatry is to substitute ourselves for God, rather than maintain ourselves as made in God's image. This was Solzhenitsyn's criticism of the monstrous history of the Bolsheviks, and more and more the modern world. In response to the danger of idolatry, Christianity has sought to overturn idolatry wherever it is found. But while this pursuit is pure, purity, as I said, often leads to extremism. Purity has no grace, and no place for failure, or the sinner. And it easily becomes an idol.

It is ironic that the quest to prevent idolatry ends in all kinds of inhumanities. Purity makes new victims in its efforts to prevent the impurity. But let us not restrict such puritanical pursuits to Christianity or religion in general. It seems to be a general characteristic of human beings. Think of all the great movements of purity from the French Revolution through to the Bolsheviks, the Nazis, and Pol Pot. Good atheists the lot of them.

Irony abounds. The ranks of the new puritans in the West (including in the Church) are to be found in those who would claim to be dismantling old oppressive systems of purity or preventing their re-emergence. 

So, what is the antidote to idolatry? As I have said before, Christian faith does not develop by just trying harder. Purifying oneself of any skerrick of idolatry may have the opposite effect than the one desired. (By making an idol out of the pursuit of purity.)

Better to love God. Practice loving God, even if it comes hard, or we are imperfect in it. It is love that overcomes idolatry, not purity. 

The Joseph Story

 The Joseph story is one of my favourites in scripture. It doesn't get much more real (except perhaps the cross!). A husband and his two wives ("And it was Leah!), favoured sons, bitter rivalry and envy, betrayal, forgiveness, conversion, and through and in all this God's presence.

I have posted some material before on Joseph. Check out this post on the conversion that Joseph leads his brothers to, and the way in which God's response to evil is not a moralistic separation of the good and bad, neither is God's response a gnostic ignoring of evil, but joining the story and putting the evil on a broader canvas of God's purposes. ("God intended it for good.") Or this post, a short reflection on how Christ is feels no envy toward us, and that through his Spirit we need not be envious of him, for everything that we can receive has been given to us.

Sinner: Changing How We see God, Ourselves, and Others.

Someone recently commented that, in the Victorian Stage 4 lockdown,  churches and brothels fall into the same category of activity and therefore restriction. Someone else quipped that both accept sinners! (Here.)I like that. Although it is a bit too easy to say compared to its practice. Contemporary society, allegedly, has moved beyond 'sinner' and the judgementalism that follows. However, using the word 'sinner' isn't necessarily judgemental. If you think it is necessarily judgemental then read on because I suggest you might still be stuck in the tight little circle of judgementalism that you are trying to leave. Scared that it might be true, we reject it. Protesting too much, so to speak.

These last few Sundays we have been reading the stories from Genesis about Abraham and Sarah and their descendants. The stories are about their schemes to make God's promise to them come true. (For the original promise, reiterated over and over throughout Genesis, see Genesis 12:1-3.) God doesn't need their schemes to bring about the promise, although God is free to use the schemes. (For example God doesn't need the scheming that brings about Abraham's firstborn son, Ishmael. See Genesis 17:15-22. But God uses the scheming of Joseph's brothers to ensure the survival of the people of Israel during the great famine. See Genesis 37-46:7.) The stories show us a God who is accommodating of all kinds of human shenanigans and failures. The fulfilment of God's promise to Abraham and Sarah, fulfilled in Jesus, is no cause for human pride. God's plan is not accomplished by human (self-)righteousness. It is God who brings about what God promises. But this is more than God just putting a brave face on a hidden resentment toward us. This is not the God of projected human self-righteousness and self-criticism. This is the God who can teach us how to relate to human failure (sin), both our own and the inadequacy and failure of others. This is what God is really like, through and through. God is with the people in promise and fulfilment, in covenant and law, with them, carrying them, loving them, making space for them, and ultimately saving us.

We see this in Jesus, intensely in his crucifixion and resurrection. God with us. Victim of human sin, literally carrying the instrument (symbol) of human sin, a cross. And from within the experience of bearing that sin bringing life and forgiveness. It is this God, with us (Matt 1:22-23; 28:16-20) truly walking our human life with us in the flesh: the life and death of Jesus, the God who makes space for sinners because God is love, it is this God to whom we relate as sinners. But that is not how most people think of the term 'sinner'. James Alison (here) says our language has a different tone than what people might think. (Words like God commands, desire, will, law. And, as I am saying here, a word like sinner.)

But not just our language changes. We are changed. "Sinner" isn't a term to demean, but when uttered in the Christian context, by a God who knows us and loves us, who truly empathises with us in Jesus, sinner becomes a term of grace. Sinner: I don't need to be perfect, I don't need to save myself, I am loved, known even in my human failure. There is nowhere left to fall away from God in Christ. 

A Children's Talk on the Holy Trinity

It can be difficult to know what to say to kids about the Trinity. Try this next time:

Can anyone tell me why they think the love we give (and receive from others) is imperfect?
I reckon it is because human love is always given with a good splash of our own needs mixed in. And our needs - most often legitimate - shape our love so that it is not actually for the other person. It is for me as well. No parent can love their child perfectly, just as no child can love their parent perfectly. So too with our friends and anyone else for that matter.

But not so with God. God is love already. God doesn't need us to have someone to love, or need us to have someone to love God back. God is love. A communion/community of love. That is what the language of Father and Son, and their mutual love of the Holy Spirit, is meant to signify. God doesn't need us. But this is exactly why God loves us. It is for us, not mixed in with God's own neediness. (God is needless in this sense, not in a frigid sort of cold and distant sense.)

This is why it is so important to let God be God, and ourselves and everyone to be less than perfect. So many people bear a grudge against a parent or child or friend or someone they hardly know because that person was human, that is, couldn't love them perfectly. But that is to ask them to be who they cannot be. Why ask people to be who they are not? What they are not?

See also:
God Alone is Good
You can Trust God
Further Thoughts on Transcendence

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.

A New Imperialism?

Dr Mouneer Anis

It is hard to know what to make of this. On one level it makes a good deal of sense that Africa, with its burgeoning Christian population and energy, will change Christianity, including the Western Churches. However, as reported it sounds a little too triumphalistic, even imperialistic. The missionary activity of African Churches in other countries will, presumably, be working with the churches in those countries, wouldn't it? Well ... given the actions of some Anglican African dioceses, one could be excused for thinking not. Some might say that it would be poetic justice if the shoe were on the other foot after the centuries of western ecclesial imperialism in Africa. While this is true, it would also be a possible example of the way in which human sin is ingrained across the generations, races and cultures. Original Sin, in other words.

A more nuanced response came from the Archbishop of Canterbury when he says that "God raises up different countries and cultures in different seasons to bear witness to his purpose in a specially marked way, and it may be that this is indeed his will for Africa in the years ahead."

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.

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.

Sinners

The two fundamental affirmations of Christianity are that God is good, and that we are sinners. The two go together. It is tempting, however, to split them. Most people seem to quite like the first; even those who don't believe in God! It is the second that causes all the trouble. Some people don't know how to make it an affirmation; they only hear it as destructive and over time can't stop it demolishing their carefully constructed sense of self. Others embrace the appellation of 'sinner' because it fits their low sense of self. Just another way to flagellate themselves.

We can hide from the harshness of the designation 'sinner' by looking at 'sin' and 'sinner' as forensic terms, with the simple meaning that we fail. 'Sinner' becomes a bare fact, rather than saying something about our identity as human beings. As a purely forensic term it remains external to who we are. However, a more nuanced and deeper exploration of our failure makes us realise that everything we do is tainted: we are sinners, not just occasionally falling into sin. And this is when it start to gets harder and people are tempted to recoil from 'sinner' altogether. This rejection of 'sinner' is completely understandable if our sense of self is dependent on us creating our sense of worth, through a kind of moral standing. (I'm a good person, I'm worthwhile, etc.) The 'self-made man' remains in control, separate and ultimately alone. But must at all costs avoid anything that can tear down the self-creation. (Good people can occasionally sin, but they remain essentially good, i.e. I am good.))

The alternative is offered by the gospel. God loves us. God comes to us when we are sinners to show not only that we don't have to create ourselves, but also that we can gain our true identity in that relationship of love.  Or to put it another way, when we are at our weakest God comes to us in an act of utter grace to show that we don't need to earn God's love. In Christ God's love is given freely and lavishly. And although grasping onto our self-creation will only hinder the full realisation of that love and our true identity in it, our self-creation can't prevent the generous showering of love that God gives to us. It can make us lovers of God and others. (Luke 7:47)

And we can go further than this. God's gracious act in Christ shows us that our self-creation remains irrelevant to receiving God's love. Grace is not a stepping stone to a spot where we can take over ourselves, eventually creating a self that doesn't need God entirely and utterly. We don't at some point take over from God's grace and do it ourselves and thereby eventually earn a grudging acceptance from God. Our identity is always to be found in God's gracious action in Christ.

Moralists are suspicious of the bold statement that our moral standing is irrelevant to receiving God's love. They are worried that grace then becomes cheap. St Paul's critics thought the same. Whatever you do with the call to holiness it should never be at the expense of our utter dependence on God's love irrespective of any self-created personhood or moral standing. On the other hand, St Paul did not preach cheap grace, and for all those who accept the pure gratuity of God's love an annual reading of Bonhoeffer on costly grace is a necessity. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, pp. 35-47.) Grace is not to be universalised as a principle that is everywhere present and automatically available apart from God's free act in Christ. This is the error of liberal Christianity: moving from God's love in Christ freely given and without reserve to a necessary principle universally available, conceived almost as a right. Cheap grace in other words.

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.)

Worship is About God and We Are the Beneficiaries!

In the last post I said that we should come to worship minus our own demands of how God should be present in worship. Worship is about God not us. But we shouldn't misunderstand this as though God needs us to worship God. I can't remember which new atheist rabbits on about this, perhaps all of them. "What kind of megalomaniac needs millions of people to worship him?" is the usual way of putting the loaded question. A very Hitleresque kind of megalomaniac is the answer. But let's not confuse this with God. Worship that is about God is worship for our benefit, not God's. We don't come to worship with our benefit in mind, and we don't come with our demands, but when we do come empty we are the beneficiaries. To come to let God be God reorients us in our relationship with God: we let God be God, rather than seek to take the burden of  the messiahship to ourselves. (See Genesis 3) God is a completeness of love beyond platitudes and flattery. Flattery and platitudes are offered to false messiahs.

Thin Ice Needs More Than Personal Moral Courage

Bernhard Schlink says that the Holocaust is evidence of the thin ice that human culture rests on, and how easily we can descend into the depths of barbarity. It is tempting to think that Germany 1933 couldn't happen here. However, the way in which Australians were so easily turned against asylum seekers in recent history hardly fills one with confidence. Theologically, a doctrine of Original Sin would also suggest that we are always on thin ice. How do we stop our society falling through?

Schlink says we should learn from the experience of Germany during the Nazi years. His generation (born during or shortly after the war) criticized their parents for not showing individual moral courage. He says he and his colleagues were mistaken in their criticism because individual moral courage in the Nazi years ended up in pointless symbolic acts or extremely small victories of no lasting effect. (He cites the events depicted in Rosenstrasse as an example of the latter.) Personal moral courage is effective when it is practiced within a society with institutions that encourage and do not punish dissent, and where individual social and political views matter. When we allow such institutions (e.g. parliament, courts, churches, unions, political parties, universities) to be undermined and no longer reflect a culture of engaged disagreement the ice will, at some point, break.

It would seem to me that the Anglican Church of Australia has a role to play in this. We are diverse and have rules regulating the manner in which disagreement can be voiced and worked through. I wonder if the suggested solutions to our Communion's disagreements over sexuality are going to reinforce our credentials as the church that tolerates dissent or not? I can't see it myself, and I think that the increasing centralization across the Communion (including Australia) augurs badly for us as an institution that will not just tolerate dissent, but work it through fruitfully. After reading Schlink I see that the stakes are greater than just freedom in the church.

In as far as there was any resistance during the Third Reich and the Holocaust that had an effect beyond being symbolic gestures, its basis was found less in individual morality than in communist or socialist solidarity, Christian faith and ecclesiastic responsibility, and the honour code of officers or of the aristocracy. The lessons of the past pertain not just to individual morality, but also, and perhaps more importantly, to societal and state institutions in which individual morality must be preserved if it is to have the power to resist in the crucial moment. This applies to citizens' engagement within and on behalf of institutions to ensure their proper functioning. (Schlink, Guilt About the Past, p. 33)