Where The Sea Takes Us

We first met the author of this book, Kim Huynh, when he was two years old. It was at the Canberra domestic air terminal and Kim’s family had just arrived from a refugee camp – tired, somewhat bewildered, but excited and ready to make a go of things. That’s a whole other story than what this book is about, yet one catches a hint of challenges that have been met and embraced over the years since.
Kim, now an associate lecturer in international politics at Australian National University, has carefully researched and documented his family’s story against the background of almost six decades of political upheaval that was Vietnam until the 1980s. In a winsome journalistic style, he has married familial affection, academic prowess, and cross-cultural reflection as he tells his family’s story.
I am struck with how Kim manages to articulate a comprehensive overview of modern history in South East Asia, including many resulting traumatic episodes for family members, with such grace and compassion and traces of laconic Aussie humour.

Kim’s deeply expressed respect for his family and country of origin’s narrative is reflected in the note on the cover announcing that all royalties from sales of the book are being donated to Médecins Sans Frontières Australia.

State of emergency ?!?

At long last, there is some acknowledgment from our elected leaders that remote aboriginal communities are in urgent need of support and help.

National debate rages over the form this is taking. At its worst it looks like a sledgehammer approach to communities that are already fragile and vulnerable. At its best it enacts a measure that is admittedly interventionist in preparation for longer term measures to assist sustainability, health, safety and security. Subtexts of political opportunism, hypocrisy in the wake of deafness to previous pleas and the shadows of paternalism abound.

So, in the light of my previous post’s reflection on Lee Camp’s offerings om “mere discipleship,” what role does Christ’s church have to play in all this. History gives us a mixed bag of inappropriate interventionism in aboriginal affairs and admirable service in the name of the Suffering Servant.

Some challenges of mere discipleship

<!–[if gte vml 1]> <![endif]–><!–[if !vml]–><!–[endif]–>We’ve been workshopping the first three chapters of Lee Camp’s Mere Discipleship (Baker, 2003).

 

In summary, Camp lays out in winsome fashion a very clear distinction between what some would call “institutional Christianity” and radical (ie grassroots) Christian faith. Cultural myopia makes it very difficult for many to see that there is a difference between the two. Camp addresses at length the effect in the 4th Century AD of the official legitimisation of Christian faith under Roman Emperor Constantine and poses some challenging issues.

 

Does the end justify the means? Much of Christian history says yes. Radical discipleship, in contrast, puts as much emphasis on the Way as the End. The Way is modelled by the One who did not coerce, but “emptied himself” in suffering service, calling on his followers to do the same. The End is that God’s love might be revealed and the world transformed. Mostly we at the workshop gave this a tick.

 

“What can we do about…?” This is probably the most vexatious issue raised by Camp, particularly for a social justice orientated mob like us. Most of us are oriented to fixing things through various institutional means – setting up structured programmes, working in sync with government bodies, lobbying members of parliament. Camp asserts that this approach may compromise our fundamental identity, particularly where it seems that we identify ourselves more with the nation-state than with the call to the reign of God as embodied in Jesus. So do we do nothing about welfare for refugees and the sorry plight of Australia’s aborigines?

Not quite, Camp seems to suggest. Shift your orientation. Let what you do emanate from your being a follower of Jesus, not because, in sync with the state, you can fix something as if you are in charge and in control.

I guess this can be illustrated by this church’s experience in assisting refugee resettlement over many years. Initially it occurred as a cooperative venture with the State. All went sweetly – we were on the same page. Several years ago, government policy changed to the degree that assistance by the churches was no longer required and refugee resettlement became much more institutionalised. We suddenly found ourselves at odds with government policies that reduced recognition of refugees as such and the assistance to which they were entitled. This sorted us out somewhat. Who would we continue to acknowledge in this matter, particularly as our contact with affected refugee families continued unabated? Would we listen to Caesar or the Suffering Servant? Suddenly our much activity called us back to the essence of our being. As we continued our assistance in the name of Christ, some of us found ourselves for the first time venturing into the arena of civil disobedience along with vilification from those who believed Christians should always toe the government line.

 

As I write, a fierce national debate is in full swing over the Prime Minister’s declared state of emergency in remote aboriginal communities. I’ll put down some thoughts about this in the next entry.

 

In the meantime, those who were at the workshop (or otherwise) might like to use the comment facility here to extend the discussion. Just press the “comments” link at the end of this post and write in your tuppence worth. Sign off as “Anonymous” if comment in the public arena causes you anxiety. This is a place where the world can hear your voice, so make good use of it!

Stem cell research – the way of compassion

The current debate on embryonic research has come to the fore this week. In the media, the storm is over whether church hierarchies are exercising undue coercion in influencing politicians of their flock who may be inclined to vote against church teachings.

The effect of this media focus, of course, muddies the waters by introducing the age old controversy of the relationship of church and state.

While I have not followed the particular debate closely, it seems to me that in its purest form, without ascribing dubious motivation to either side, the dilemma is this:

Medical science has identified the possibility of advancing technique and know-how in alleviating some identified forms of human suffering using the results of stem-cell research. The broadest and most effective treatment is possible through embryonic stem-cell applications, as opposed to more limited adult stem-cell results. The most effective application, however, involves the destruction of human embryos.

The values competing for ascendancy all call on large measures of human compassion. It is right that we should use all our available knowledge to alleviate human suffering. It is right that we should preserve dignity and respect for all human life and potential.

Standing by and watching our fellow human beings suffer debilitating wasting diseases when we know a potential cure is possible is unacceptable. Sacrificing another human life, even in embryonic form, to alleviate another’s pain is unacceptable. If the bill succeeds however, the former will have been deemed in legislation to be less unacceptable than the latter, even with corollaries that provide ethical safeguards.

To leave the argument pared down to these opposing propositions, however, does not do justice to the angst of the debate. Behind every proposition is a human story, told with pain, love and tears. We often shield ourselves from the vulnerability of these stories by retreating to a doctrinaire stance, building a wall of defiance from behind which we fire our bullets at the other side.

My appeal is this. For many of us, the lines are already drawn in this debate and we know where we stand even if it’s somewhere in the middle and we are undecided. For some, there is urgency for resolution. For Easter people, however, the way of compassionate listening and engagement is still open. Become informed. Talk to your MP, as many are advising, and listen to the issues that they are weighing. Respectfully offer your perspective. Above all, remain vulnerable, open and alive to the Spirit’s compassion being enabled within you. This is the way of Jesus.

Dropping by

Yes, it’s been a long time – well over six weeks since I’ve logged a blog! Not that this pilgrim no longer has anything to wonder about. Life has been so full of wonderful things to record and reflect on that there simply hasn’t been time to come here and record them. Part of the challenge is that I need to look at a serious upgrade of my equipment – the old laptop is groaning under the weight of chores I am assigning it and dial-up seems to make a major production of anything I am attempting on the web. End of financial year approaches and thus a range of possibilities. Keep watching!

Bonhoeffer, Zimbabwe and the Prodigal Son

In recent times I have often used the illustration of a rope with its many strands to urge the contemplation of how the seemingly unrelated issues with which we wrestle can provide a unifying strength. This last week has seen me attempting to come to grips with Bonhoeffer’s approach to ethics, a challenge to participate in a meaningful way to the crisis in Zimbabwe, and the Parable of the Lost Son (Luke 15). I also attended a Dayspring workshop with Steve Wirth on Contemplative Dialogue, possibly a promising tool in the context of the three seemingly disparate strands of the rope I was attempting to plait! Why these particular strands?

  • Dietrich Bonhoeffer – I am conducting a study series for two congregations based on his life and thought in relation to Hitler and the Third Reich. A grassroots approach to discipleship and ethics saw him involved in a failed plot to overthrow the regime. He was arrested, imprisoned and finally executed. During this time he continued to write. His thought and commitment is relevant to issues before us as church and nation today.
  • Zimbabwe – we have affective bonds within my congregation with the people of this nation – we are involved with the housing and education of AIDS orphans, a farming project and water bores. In the light of the escalation of officially sanctioned violence over the last week, people are asking what more they can do. The Bonhoeffer studies are heightening such questions,
  • The Parable of the Lost Son was in yesterday’s lectionary. The sermon had to somehow address the unusual “ethics” within this story. The fresh discovery that the story makes no sense at all from an ethical point of view was somewhat liberating for those of us caught on the barbed wire fence of the ethical system suggested by Bonhoeffer. We came to an understanding of another awareness central to Bonhoeffer’s thinking – that of grace. Grace that is costly to both the giver and the receiver. The critical elder brother, self-expelled into the outer darkness because he couldn’t bare the celebrations, also experienced the offer of grace. The father came out from the party to be with him in his self imposed misery, not to commiserate, but to gently entice him to the place where there was light, joy and the possibility of reconciliation with his brother. Whether the elder brother received grace is unknown. Did he eventually go into the celebrations?

What does all this look like when twined together? Not much that will give answers to the dilemmas of justice that confront contemporary living. We have to work things out the best way we can (that’s basically what Bonhoeffer was saying, pointing to love for neighbour and the modelling of Jesus as his guiding principles). What we are offered is a stance – the stance of grace.

The overwhelming message from church leaders in Zimbabwe with whom we have had contact is that of courageous grace. This is shown through forthrightness in their will to care compassionately for and encourage their people, often against breathtaking odds. They are working out of an ethic that is saturated with grace.

Maybe our most important task is to learn from them.

Lamenting Jerusalem – Second Sunday in Lent

Luke 13:31-35 sees Jesus lamenting over Jerusalem – a centre of power and influence in his part of the world in his time – probably no different from any other city we know, ancient or modern. There was one difference however. Jerusalem was heir to the Abrahamic covenant – a divine initiative that would see it at the centre of a universal realm governed by what the Hebrew people called shalom – a radical vision of peace uniting all nations – indeed all creation under the compassion and grace of the Creator of all things.

Jerusalem, however, serially fell prey to corruption and political power plays, just as our own cities and power centres do – one only needs to look at this week’s headlines involving both Perth and Canberra to recognise as much.

What is one to do? The same as Jesus did. Refuse to be silent about the reign of God until somebody executes you. Then refuse to lie down, break the law again and be raised!

This was Fr John Dear’s challenge to a packed gathering in Perth this weekend as he called for radical obedience to non-violent peace-making. He knew what he was talking about. He has been arrested and jailed many times in the USA for expressions of opposition in the name of Jesus to warfare. Visit www.johndear.org for a fascinating and challenging insight to his ministry.

Thinking Christology now and then – another symposium reflection

Again, I only caught a part of this presentation. Stephen Curkpatrick never fails to give me a bone to take away and gnaw. Stephen has a particular gift with terminology that can, at the same time, irritate and open up fresh pathways of conceptual understanding.

The gist of his presentation was to compare and assess Christology from earlier and more classic “nominative” points of view to more current “vocative” perspectives – “nominative” being the Greek propensity for naming and classifying and “vocative” relating, in Hebrew fashion, to identifying and answering the “call” or “summons” within the phenomena.

My mind wonders to contemplate that, as products of the Enlightenment, the rational processes of our pioneer thinkers may have been very much at home in the nominative, yet there was an ardent passion responding vocatively to that which they named.

I ponder how that tension finds expression in my own circles – how carefully we try to articulate, name and classify the collective elements of our faith, witness and mission and possibly miss that which is vocative within, or at least dilute it with our rush to classify. Of course the other danger is present, that of becoming so ardently passionate over that which calls us that we fail to spend the patience and discipline required to give it the nominative form that enables communication and team-building. I give thanks that the local congregation to which I belong, for the most part, seems to hold the tension nicely.

Stephen left us with some further interesting ponderables:

* “Consider: Jesus Christ exceeds our expectations of the exemplary, representing a unique trajectory in humanity with possibilities we can only engage in faith as response to the vocative word.”
* “Consider: Grace alone is able to redress the human inequalities within love, goodwill, forgiveness, imagination and hope.”
* Consider: the triune story is integral to ecumenical expression of the uniqueness of Christian testimony, identity and mission.