Who would want to?
The Hebrew prophet Hosea – that’s who! Initially, he nurses the pain of anger when Gomer leaves him for a polyamorous dalliance with others. The patriarchal law of his time and place would have allowed his claim on her life. Instead, we see a tender wooing back, prompted by an insight into YHWH’s yearning for his wayward people,
In a tender love poem, Hosea once again courts Gomer. (Hosea 2:14-23)
The Rev’d Dr Keith Rowe contrasts the harsh history of the valley of Achor and “a door of hope” (v15).
As much as I baulk at the uncompromising retribution in the face of the greed of Achan described in the above link, I cannot ignore the parallel suffering of the vulnerable caused by today’s uncompromising focus on greed. The “door of hope” that Hosea so eloquently espouses matches much of our yearning for the cessation of violence, comprehensive care for others and nurture of the natural environment.
The contemporary gift of Hosea is a reframing of the context for the frustration and powerlessness experienced by many who seek to act for change against uncompromising commercial and political forces – our valley of Achor. A shift of perspective that focuses on our love (God’s love) for uncomprehending and fickle game-changers will unlock the “door of hope.”
Some call it the silly season. Its those first few weeks of a southern hemisphere January. The office is quiet. I’m at work making use of the downtime from the regular weekly program to engage in some tidying up and planning for what must take place in my final six months here – and beyond. There is a kind of relaxed urgency about all this.
Seeking human favour always carried amber warning lights in my ministerial formation. We’ve seen too many examples of fall from grace in the political arena – and church leadership ain’t far from politics!
Everyone thinks clergy have some secret hotline to God. How does a retiring one increase a state that is already deemed to be “perfect?” Let’s lay that myth to rest.
Stature – now there’s a giggle. The transition has been lifelong – from the skinny, gawky unco-ordinated youth to what I overheard someone describing as that “round little man.” It seems my stature increase has been outward in all the wrong places rather than upward. Daily moderate exercise and lean eating have done little to modify such a transition, yet I continue to attend to both. Sometimes one just has to flow into one’s genes.
At its best, tradition is like a tall sailing ship, navigating the uncharted narrow shoals of postmodern times. Its cargo is the virtues and values that create civilisation. From time to time, its crew has found it necessary to discard outdated, redundant and no longer serviceable jetsam. To navigate unknown shallow waters, the art of “kedging” or “warping” is applied. A dinghy rows forward a small anchor attached to a hawser while simultaneously sounding the depths. The mother ship then hauls itself forward. Rinse and repeat. In this way, the good ship “Tradition” makes its way forward through brave new worlds. When done well, such tall ships are feted and celebrated. (I am indebted to Leonard Sweet and his book, Aquachurch (Group Publishing, 1999) for this helpful concept.)
Across the spectrum of Christian spiritual tradition, from the sacramental to the puritan, fragrance has described the beauty and intimacy of connection with the Divine.
Wondering Pilgrim 