Wondering Pilgrim

A quick and necessarily brief look at next Sunday’s RCL texts before commuting to a three-day workshop on palliative care …

Isaiah 50:4-9

What it is to know your way! The prophet (the one who speaks forth YHWH’s message) reflects on his task. From his waking moments, the message consumes him, resisting all distraction and opposition. Nothing will dilute or deflect the words that have been given for him to convey. His outlook is crystal clear and his face is set towards the course that lies ahead.

Psalm 19

A celebration of orientation towards YHWH that becomes a joyful reorientation to the life we are given to live.

James 3:1-12

A timely warning for those who teach or “speak forth YHWH’s message.” Words are powerful and open to abuse. Always remember your orientation and stay centred, adopting the stance of the prophet in Isaiah’s text. Beware the sabotage of ego and the siren call of our surrounding culture in which we participate, sometimes critically but often uncritically.

Mark 8:26-38

The great “hinge” on which the door of Mark’s gospel swings. Jesus’ question, “Who do you say I am”, posed to the disciples in an alien environment, pulls forth from Peter the only viable response he can make. From this time, Jesus turns his face to the inevitable Jerusalem climax, calling on his followers to take up the cross and follow him. One might reflect that the sacrifice we are called to is a “whole life event.”

A peek at what’s coming up next Sunday

Proverbs 22:1-23

In these golden years of retirement with the spring sunshine streaming onto my desk, I hear this text as if the ruminations of a wizened old man in a rocking chair on his front verandah. In his reminiscing, he is reeling off all the life lessons he has learned and there is still fire in the belly. Suddenly (in the middle of verse 17), he sits up and leans forth, a fierce shimmering in his eyes! He is leading up to a summary life commandment for any who will listen: Do not rob the poor because they are poor, or crush the afflicted at the gate; for the Lord pleads their cause and despoils of life those who despoil them.

Psalm 125

Here is an expression of confidence that the good and righteous will prevail. It has been an interesting week of debate over the role of the new Prime Minister’s personal faith in his public life and particularly as a head of state. As his position came about through a very non-edifying “ides of March” display that is still playing out and critics analyse previous cabinet minister policy formation in the light his faith stance, it is clear that this Psalm comes under the category of Walter Brueggemann’s “Psalms of Orientation” – not quite addressing the period of disorientation we are experiencing right now. It’s a psalm that tells us where we ought to be. We look to the psalms of “disorientation” and “reorientation” that will hopefully put us back on track. My wistful hope is that the church in this country will not delegate its responsibilities to elected public officials but instead adopt its correct prophetic stance as salt and light as participants in a robust democracy.

James 2:1-17

In these early days of retirement and working out a reorientation to our finances, this passage throws down a fresh challenge. As I look at the spreadsheet indicating assets, including realised lifetime investments and dramatically decreased income, I realise two things. Although we have generally lived close to the wire, we dwell amongst the richest in the world, yet to manage this requires some astuteness if we are not to become a burden to others when the treasure house gradually depletes through the sheer cost of living.  Our donations to charity and regular church life are under review. James’ text, it seems, is mostly a warning against showing partiality according to wealth and influence, preferring the well-positioned over more dependent members of the community. Conversely, it is also a timely reminder to always prefer the option of serving the poor.

Mark 7:24-37

Mark’s Gospel has Jesus breaking our expectations twice if we have not come across these two stories recently. On the surface, it seems he only reluctantly heals his foreign petitioner’s daughter after she chastises him with the depth of her faith. The same reluctance in the healing of the deaf stutterer, again in foreign territory, leads to  Jesus swearing his disciples to secrecy. Why does Mark’s gospel tell these stories in this way? Does it have something to do with the first hearers of this gospel finding themselves under great duress as they fled Nero’s persecution? Danger, risk, speed, furtive exchanges, and mistrust might have marked their habitual discourse. Does Mark’s gospel cast Jesus as a fellow traveller who does not abandon his followers in their emotional extremity?

Let’s see what’s coming up this Sunday, 2nd September 2018…

Song of Songs 2:8-13

This is from one of the most delightfully sensuous texts in our sacred book – certainly apt for the first weekend of Spring in the lands south of the equator. Eugene Peterson cites the Song of Songs for the intimate language of prayer that points to the bond between YHWH and his chosen. No hard and fast doctrine here – just delight and anticipation in the presence of the Beloved – from one to the other and back.

 

 

 

Psalm 45

Lest one think all sensuosity is locked up in the Song of Songs, Psalm 45 uses similar language filtered through a hymn of praise to king and daughter. One could be forgiven in losing oneself in the ambiguity. Is the praise directed to the king and his court, or maybe it’s God and God’s chosen ones? In the minds of the ancients, the two were often indistinguishable. The king was meant to represent all the aspirations and ethos of the nation Israel who, in their most aware moments, deeply knew that everything they were and had was as a result of being the apple of YHWH’s eye.

James 1:17-27

Verse 27 is the well-known climax of this text, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” This is the outcome of the kind of relationship with the Divine that is spelt out in the earlier Hebrew texts. This text references the good gifts from “the Father of lights” and the reciprocal stance that is the natural result of receiving them – a benevolent stance towards one another, reflecting the love received from the Creator. The task of devotion is to lay aside all that does not express this loving relationship.

Mark 7:1-23

And here is the shadow of all the life, love, goodness and light in the preceding texts. Jesus, in whom all this is embodied, is opposed by the very guardians of this tradition. The problem is they have built so many walls around these precepts that they are no longer recognisable. The harshest words of Jesus are reserved for those who are so dedicated to enforcing the keeping of invented rules and regulations that the essence of receiving the gracious invitation to the fullness of life has become inaccessible.

I’m missing engagement with the Revised Common Lectionary. I’ve lived and breathed it the 47 years I was in formal pastoral ministry. So here’s a quick glimpse at what’s coming up this Sunday.

1 Kings 8:(1, 6, 10-11), 22-30, 41-43

A high moment in Israel’s story. Under Solomon’s reign, the first Jerusalem Temple is completed. Solomon’s prayer of dedication eclipses nationalism through a particular petition that the foreigner may find inclusion here – a particularly poignant point as news comes through that Australia’s Home Affairs Minister, the overseer and architect of our notoriously cruel and inhumane “border protection” regime, has resigned.

Psalm 84

This is a hymn of praise often used in the dedication of buildings erected for public worship and draws on the elation of those pilgrims who have ascended the Temple Mount of Jerusalem and entered its courts with praise and thanksgiving. The content of the text, however, draws attention away from bricks and mortar and focuses squarely on the affirmation of being orientated to God’s presence wherever we are.

Ephesians 6:10-20

“Put on the whole armour of God…” I recall the huge Sunday School anniversaries where we children, arrayed on Meccano-like tiers, watched a presenter dress a lifesize cut-out of a Roman soldier with helmet, breastplate, sword, shield and sandals. I think we learned more about ancient battlefield dress than what the metaphors represented – an ever-present alertness and preparedness to give account for the new way of being human together through Christ’s transforming intervention.

John 6:56-69

And so closes the lengthy “I am the Bread of Life” discourse. Jesus has given his hardest and most central teaching, often aligned with the mystery of the Eucharist. We are nourished by consuming Jesus as the Christ totally into our being – symbolised by “eating his flesh.” Not cannibalism, but a total merging of our conscious and unconscious entity with that entity that is Jesus in a way that he actually consumes us through our consent. A hard teaching indeed and many followers leave Jesus at this point. Jesus asks his close circle if they will also leave because of this teaching. Peter replies with the well-known response: ‘Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.’

 

Yesterday I listened to a Roman Catholic priest address an ecumenical but predominantly Roman Catholic gathering on Baptism and Meditation. In illustrating the practice of meditation (properly “contemplation”) as an act of creating hospitable space for us to become aware of God’s constant hospitality towards us, he described how, following his full observance of the exhausting yet rich rites of Holy Week, including Passion Friday and the Easter Vigil, he sought refuge from liturgy and theology by attending his local Church of Christ, where he could simply “be.” He knew the minister, yet the church was large enough for him to be lost anonymously in the Easter Sunday crowd (or so he believed). Nevertheless, he was overwhelmed by the hospitality offered him as an anonymous visitor. He said this is what it is like to live out of our baptism which has more to do with relationship than correct liturgy and theology!

He reflected on the Hebrew word qahal (translated by the LXX as ekklesia, or in English, “church”) referring to the “ragtag band of slaves escaped from Egypt (through the waters of the Red Sea = baptism) and the journey to the Promised Land.” I discovered that Hebrew commentary on this term is more nuanced, but the history of Christian theology, particularly the African-American emancipation story, reflects such an understanding. The connections become apparent. One of the marks of the qahal was its hospitality to the foreigner in its midst. If the discipline of regular wordless contemplation immerses us in the grace of the Holy One, how can we not be hospitable to the other? How can our worshipping communities not practice this same hospitality?

I felt confirmed in my conviction that the best way Jenny and I can respond to our vocation in this new stage of retirement is to continue to expand the stance of hospitality through whatever opportunities present themselves.