A Quick Foray into next Sunday’s RCL

cathedral interior view
Photo by Ashley Elena on Pexels.com

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.’

 

A Welcoming Ragtag Band

Schopin, Frederic, 1804-1880; The Children of Israel Crossing the Red SeaYesterday 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.

 

How will the Uniting Church hold two views on marriage?

wedding-rings-949106_960_720

My mind and heart have been quite exercised in recent times as members of my church tribe (Churches of Christ in Australia) respond to the change in secular marriage laws that now accommodate same-sex union. The traditional discretion allowed to officiating ministers has been effectively withdrawn where same-gender applications for marriage are concerned as our “rites” will not allow it. To raise the matter in any of our forums is fraught with the risks of polarisation and disintegration. The Uniting Church in Australia, at last week’s 15th Assembly, adopted a position that allowed the existence side by side of a rite of marriage exclusive to a heterosexual relationship and a rite that allowed Ministers of the Word to officiate over same-sex unions.

On congratulating a Uniting Church minister yesterday on the step forward, the response was, “How ridiculous to hold two equal positions.” The pain and struggle of that communion’s 30-year debate are evident and will remain for some time to come.

However, the Uniting Church’s freshly articulated position, as liminal as it seems, is way ahead of my communion’s, where there is little opportunity to even raise the issue, let alone discuss it. Like the Uniting Church, we hold ‘unity in diversity” as one of our critical values. In holding “two equal views” on marriage, the Uniting Church is demonstrating that principle in a way that, in spite of looking ridiculous, models what it looks like.

Members of the Uniting Church now face the challenge of living with two opposite official views on marriage. How will they negotiate the space between these two views?
Cathie Lambert, a participant in last week’s assembly, offers this very thoughtful reflection on her blog at Deep Water Dwelling.

I would commend this reflection to our own communion, for I fear that much of the mainline church in this country is simply mirroring the cynical polarisation of our contemporary political scene as evidenced in the totally unnecessary and divisive plebiscite. Deep listening to our sacred text, collective lived experience of 2000 years and enlivening presence of Spirit is surely sufficient resourcing to counter such contemporary manipulations.

Discovering old journals

Packing to move house is like an archaeological dig. Every now and again as you negotiate the “toss” and “keep” piles of stuff, you come across something that says “pause”. Today I discovered a journal I began to keep when I was considering acceptance of the call to train for ministry. It nearly went on the “toss” file because it’s hidden behind a cover that says “English Exercises”. The first entry is dated 16th March 1969.

It was sober reading depicting my struggle with the issues of discernment for both the faith journey and the times. My horizons were quite narrow and unashamedly and rudely evangelical, even though I had been formed in a broader representation of Churches of Christ. At the same time, I struggled with a recognition of this something that sat awkwardly, attempting to filter strident influences from other sources through what my fledgeling faith discerned as a gospel of love. My reflections on whether or not to become involved in the Vietnam Moratorium Campaign predicted my future journey into a gospel pacifist outlook, even though I sought leadership from the churches in vain.

Now, as I near the end of sustained involvement in church ministry life some 49 years later, I see that while I have changed much, much is still the same. To be sure, I move through difficult circumstances and challenges with more poise, dignity and authenticity than then. But the questions still remain, the search for a genuine expression of the gospel of love amongst the people I am called to serve, wherever that may be. My greatest caution is to not stop the questing, for I have come to understand that the answer is in the never-ending question. So it looks like Wondering Pilgrim must continue his journey!

Swinging on the Vine

Somehow I felt I had to justify this sermon title for John 15:1-8 at our combined Uniting Church/Church of Christ service this morning.

During the week, with ANZAC Day music playing in the background, while I exegeted the Greek text of “abiding,” my attention was drawn to jazz variations of the ubiquitous commemoration hymn, “Abide with Me.” Here is what I listened to and played to our combined congregations this morning.

 

The “I am” sayings attributed to Jesus in John’s Gospel are the set piece that gives rise to expansion, repetition and poetic exploration much in the way a jazz orchestra explores a theme. While we listened to the BJO’s rendition of “Abide With Me” we noticed the cornet setting the main theme as the accompanying instruments almost champed at the bit, waiting for their opportunities to respond, improvise and interpret, the cornet later rounds them up bringing them back to the central theme.  We then looked at the John 15 passage, observing how the text works in much the same way, illustrating the unity to which abiding in Christ individually and collectively identifies and which cannot be separated.

Yep, we were swingin’ on the vine!

Thomas – the beloved disciple?

ThomasYesterday was my 43rd Thomas Sunday since ordination, meaning that I have possibly preached this many times on the account of Thomas “not believing” until he had encountered the Risen Christ himself and verified by the visibility of the “marks” of crucifixion.

My understanding of this encounter has gone through a lifetime of development, moving from the Sunday School scolding “to not be a Doubting Thomas” to an appreciation of the complexity of Thomas’ courage and questing faith.

As I was contemplating what further might be said when preparing for yesterday’s 43rd (and possibly final) Thomas Sunday homily, the thought struck me that Thomas could actually be the anonymous “beloved disciple” mentioned at six key moments in the Fourth Gospel and traditionally identified as its bashful author, the Apostle John. After all, according to our account, Thomas had an unidentified twin (Didymus), never named and only mentioned on this occasion.

Now the Fourth Gospel is full of enigma and double entendre and was almost rejected on several occasions from the New Testament canon for its alleged Gnosticism (an early church heresy that feted “special knowledge” and separated spiritual and material realms.)

I have come to approach John’s Gospel as something like the playing out of a Greek drama on a cosmic stage, with each character’s encounter with Christ portraying the questions, dilemmas and struggles of the attending audience, namely you and me. The idea that both Thomas and “the beloved disciple” have represented different aspects of us who are growing in our following has fleetingly appeared in my presentations over the years. But to conflate the two – Thomas and the beloved disciple together – this is a new and exciting thought.

In case I was in danger of birthing a new heresy, I hit Google in the hope of finding some supporting scholarship and found this: The Apostle Thomas as the Beloved Disciple

I found Charlesworth’s arguments compelling and worth exploring invitationally with my congregation, particularly as, over the years,  we have had fraternal connections with Christians from Syrian and Indian traditions, each of which trace their origins back to the faithful work of the Apostle Thomas.

I once nominated Thomas as my patron saint because of my constant questing. I guess this will not abate and I hope it doesn’t.

 

 

Goats, Cricket and Good Friday

cross1Atonement Day on the ancient Hebrew calendar marked the day that two goats were brought before the community. One goat was ritually slain, the other, the scapegoat, having had the sins of the community laid on it, was set loose into the wilderness, not to knowingly be seen again.

Anthropologist/theologian Renee Girard cites this as an example of how a society, evolutionally violent at its core, maintains cohesion.

Something like that happened in Australian cricket this week. A sacred code was violated and sacrifices and scapegoats were needed. The media high priests called the shots and the public at large was vindicated. It has arguably been the nation’s most unifying event in recent days.

And now it’s Good Friday and the scapegoat chosen to bear the brokenness of the cosmos was Jesus of Nazareth, the one anointed as the Christ. Believer or not, do not dismiss what this day signifies! It is repeated time and time again, all around us. Good Friday’s scapegoat did not disappear into the wilderness, however. He broke the system, and after tomorrow we will enter a new kind of world!

Footwashing – another Easter symbol

footwashingToday begins the three days of Easter.

The little-heralded act of Jesus enacting his calling as a servant and washing the feet of his bemused and scandalised disciples is the act that begins the three-day drama of Easter.

He said to them,

‘Do you know what I have done to you? 13You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. 14So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.16Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.

Alongside the symbol of the cross, itself a scandal, we might well lay the foot-washing basin and towel as a symbol of service for followers of the Way.

Just imagine depictions of the basin and towel adorning church steeples and hanging as pendants around our necks. How would this change the public perception of contemporary Christianity?

Psalm 118 & The Easter Vigil

To my mind and heart, there is nothing like hearing the Psalms in the original Hebrew. There are many rich renditions stemming from Christian devotion, and they are particularly apt for the death and resurrection themes of the Easter vigil. The Psalms, however, are steeped deep in the Hebrew tradition and are the crucible of the Christian story. So dwell on Psalm 118 while listening to this: