Wondering Pilgrim

Place and Time: Peterson’s Pastoral Imagination

Sinai Sunrise (Photo credit: Ernie Reyes)

Some of the most evocative reading I’ve engaged over the Christmas/New Year break has been from Eugene Peterson’s The Pastor: a memoir . The development of what he has famously described as “pastoral imagination” is to the fore throughout the telling of his autobiographical pilgrimage.

His opening section, Topos and Kairos, I found immediately compelling. The title invites consideration of place and time as markers of the pastoral journey, using biblical metaphors that are not so much the tools of trade of pastoral practice, but windows of awareness.

I found myself easily recognising such associations: Moses in the ordinary work of minding sheep encounters the burning bush at Midian. My “Midian” was the small electrical warranty and repair counter in Myers bargain basement in Adelaide. Who would have thought that the insistent call of the great “I AM” could occur in conversations with customers bringing in their broken toasters and burnt out irons?

Elijah’s Horeb cave and the discovery of the power of the “still small voice” was an Eremos retreat in a monastery on the outskirts of Canberra. The headiness of innovative outreach and dialogue amongst some of the movers and shakers of the land had ceased to satisfy. Elijah’s depression descended. The opening to a quieter more contemplative approach to ministry was literally a God-send.

The Patmos of John is a little harder for me to place – it seems most of my 40 years in ministry has been unravelling the essence of the “heavenly city” from its cultural accretions. The empire is all-pervasive. Sometimes I know John’s exile, but mostly I find myself complicit.

As the book unfolds, other places come to mind – David-king-in-waiting’s Ziklag, where resource-starved marginalisation constrains the vision splendid; the Sinai wilderness wastelands survived through the providential gifts of manna, quail and hidden springs; the place of congregational formation as tent, rather than cave or fortress.

With all these, I can make immediate association – and thus tap into the richness of the salvific direction of such events, times and places.

Peterson, retired now and spending much time in his beloved Montana cabin, swims against the tide of much Western ecclesiological management theory. I still find his voice a firm and clear (and, I might say, saving) call to the filling of pastoral vocation.

Anitipodean hope

So, my WordPress annual report reveals 2012’s five most read posts on this blog.

I can only respond with a haiku and a caricature!

wattle day, red dog,
dot painting, signs, Holy Monday
antipodean hope

Joy in the midst of tragedy?

English: Advent wreath, First Advent Sunday (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Church had a challenge wrestling with the Advent theme of Joy today. Already keenly attuned to this world’s dark places, many were processing the still-fresh news of the Connecticut school shooting tragedy. Today’s worship leader, Linda, was thoroughly tuned in. As we focused on the Lord’s Supper, itself a connection between the sad sorrow of maniacal destruction and the communal Eucharistic joy of fellowship with the Risen One, we heard the words of Kahlil Gibran:

Then a woman said, “Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.” And he answered: Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed. Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

We later reflected that tragedy is the norm for human life. Utopian visions of progress are a Western construct of the last 300 years. The biblical tradition holds in tension the realities of gain and loss, despair and hope, death and life, sorrow and joy. Richard Rohr, in Falling Up, reminds us that the Greek word for tragedy is “goat story” – it follows the path up, down, backwards, forwards with lots of learning along the way. The answer to the questions of life’s tragedies lies not in definitive statements but in holding life’s contradictions in creative tension.

So how do we respond to the Advent theme of joy? Not by pretending the tragic is not there, but by engaging and responding to it the best way we know how. A father walked in on his son glued to the TV news of the aftermath of some natural disaster. The destruction was wide and the lament of the survivors overwhelming. “Look for the helpers, son, look for the helpers,” said the father.

Joy cannot be forced, nor can it be chosen in the way one can choose hope or peace. But it can surprise us in the midst of sorrow. And this is gift.

National Indigenous Television (NITV) Goes Free to Air 12 December 2012

Looking forward to tuning in here…

Peace is a Pair of Shoes

I love preaching at my church – it opens up so much thoughtful dialogue.

This week we tackled the Advent theme of peace in relation to charitable giving.

It had been the week of a photo of a NYPD cop buying a pair of shoes for a homeless vagabond. It had gone viral. Something of the juxtaposition of officialdom, destitution and the approaching season of good will touched our collective hearts. Within a few days investigative journalism had done a number on the homeless guy, raising cynical questions of his worthiness and the naivety of the “do-gooder” charity dollar.

But Advent Peace, announced in the words of John the son of Zechariah, comes in the phrases “Prepare the way of the Lord… make his paths straight…” – and those who hear have to work out an immediate response when need confronts them.

Will I be ripped off? And if so, does it matter?

The question exercised our very generous congregation somewhat as we examined the protective measures in our charity giving and whether they diminished or enhanced the spirit of hospitality without which charity is simply an exercise in condescension. This was the topic of post-sermon coffee conversations.

This morning, a church member sent me a link, part of which follows:

James Doty, neurosurgeon and philanthropist, discussing the science of compassion on Radio Australia, speaks of the need to keep an open heart

James Doty: To put it in context, I had made a donation, a significant donation, to a charity that had misused my donation and I was so infuriated by that that I actually sued them. At the time this incident occurred I’d just left this lawyer’s office, and I was actually chastising myself because I gave this money away, these people misused it, am I just a fool? I always believe in people and I’ve been taken advantage of and now I have to deal with this situation which is creating my own stress. And I was walking along in this not so great neighbourhood with my head down actually contemplating about how foolish I was, and I was tapped on the shoulder by an Afro/American young man in his 20s who was not dressed particularly well, and this was in an Afro/American area, an area of poverty. And whether any of us like it or not we have prejudices and my immediate response was this is probably a drug addict who’s trying to get money, who’s just going to take it and spend it on drugs. And the individual said to me, ‘You know my car broke down and could you give me money for the bus, so I can take my mum and I so we can get home?’ And I saw no mum, I saw no car. So now I’m stuck with another dilemma because I’ve just beaten myself up for giving this money away and I’ve got this kid in front of me who I’ve already decided is a drug addict and I think to myself for a few seconds and I go, you know, am I going to believe in the innate goodness of people and just give him the money, and giving him the money regardless of how he uses it, is it going to change my life? No.

So I went ahead and gave him money, and then he thanked me and walked away and then I started the walk to this restaurant where I was having lunch and I was going again through the whole exercise—now I’m doubly beating myself up because I’m saying I’m even more of a fool because I’ve been used by this one group of people and now I’ve just given money away that’s going to be obviously misused.. And then I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn round and this young man is there and he’s got his mother, and he says to me, ‘You know, I just wanted to introduce you to my mother, I’m so thankful to you for giving me that money.’

You know, so it reinforced of course my basic belief in humanity, you know it brought a tear to my eye, but I think you can always try to keep an open heart as much as possible.

Peace is always linked with the figure of John, the son of Zechariah (aka John the Baptist) during the Advent season. The “peace” associated with his stormy transforming ministry that called for repentance and cleansing is based on the Hebrew concept of shalom – wholeness in relationship with others, oneself and the Divine.

Donating a pair of shoes or a bus fare, no questions asked, may be naive in the eyes of the cynical – but it may also be a nudge from the Divine!

Peace is a Pair of Shoes

I love preaching at my church – it opens up so much thoughtful dialogue.

This week we tackled the Advent theme of peace in relation to charitable giving.

Will I be ripped off? And if so, does it matter?

This morning, a church member sent me a link, part of which follows:

James Doty, neurosurgeon and philanthropist, discussing the science of compassion on Radio Australia, speaks of the need to keep an open heart

James Doty: To put it in context, I had made a donation, a significant donation, to a charity that had misused my donation and I was so infuriated by that that I actually sued them. At the time this incident occurred I’d just left this lawyer’s office, and I was actually chastising myself because I gave this money away, these people misused it, am I just a fool? I always believe in people and I’ve been taken advantage of and now I have to deal with this situation which is creating my own stress. And I was walking along in this not so great neighbourhood with my head down actually contemplating about how foolish I was, and I was tapped on the shoulder by an Afro/American young man in his 20s who was not dressed particularly well, and this was in an Afro/American area, an area of poverty. And whether any of us like it or not we have prejudices and my immediate response was this is probably a drug addict who’s trying to get money, who’s just going to take it and spend it on drugs. And the individual said to me, ‘You know my car broke down and could you give me money for the bus, so I can take my mum and I so we can get home?’ And I saw no mum, I saw no car. So now I’m stuck with another dilemma because I’ve just beaten myself up for giving this money away and I’ve got this kid in front of me who I’ve already decided is a drug addict and I think to myself for a few seconds and I go, you know, am I going to believe in the innate goodness of people and just give him the money, and giving him the money regardless of how he uses it, is it going to change my life? No.

So I went ahead and gave him money, and then he thanked me and walked away and then I started the walk to this restaurant where I was having lunch and I was going again through the whole exercise—now I’m doubly beating myself up because I’m saying I’m even more of a fool because I’ve been used by this one group of people and now I’ve just given money away that’s going to be obviously misused.. And then I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn round and this young man is there and he’s got his mother, and he says to me, ‘You know, I just wanted to introduce you to my mother, I’m so thankful to you for giving me that money.’

You know, so it reinforced of course my basic belief in humanity, you know it brought a tear to my eye, but I think you can always try to keep an open heart as much as possible.

Donating a pair of shoes or a bus fare, no questions asked, may be naive in the eyes of the cynical – but it may also be a nudge from the Divine!

Devious Diggers and Wondrous Widows

A couple of old AIF paybooks and a notebook scrawled with addresses of billets in WWI France came to light in a clean-up the other day. They belonged to my grandfather who died the year before I was born. Handling them once again gave the sense of missed connection. From all accounts, he sat lightly and optimistically towards life, never missing an opportunity to meet, greet and dream of possibilities. His pay books trace his journeys through the iconic WWI battlefields of Gallipoli and Ypres where, no doubt, he participated in action that he and his ilk never discussed. His notebook speaks of intimate and hospitable human connections.

This Remembrance Day my grandfather reminds me of all who are caught up in the great sweep of world events, carried by forces beyond their control, yet are bearers and creators of their own unique responses.

Like the destitute widow mentioned in Mark’s gospel reading today – the one who furtively put all her two coins in the Temple receptacle alongside the contributions of the wealthy. Jesus noted (sadly, compassionately?) that, from her poverty, she had given much more than the paltry gifts of the wealthy from their abundance.

Perhaps she too, was a creative player against a system born of vast sweeping uncontrollable forces. The temple system was exposed to the greed, corruption and political play of less than pious opportunists. Jesus’ railing against the Temple traders and money-changers attests to the familiarity of “the way things worked – but what can one do but go along with it?” The totality of the widow’s gift can be seen as a defiant negation of a system that is rigged against her. In treating the gift to the Temple as originally intended, she is nevertheless aiding and abetting the very enterprise that is exploiting and “devouring widow’s houses.”

She, too, becomes characteristic in Jesus’ teaching – a type perhaps of how Jesus, in the remaining chapters of Mark’s gospel, gives himself wholly to unrelenting forces of power and political expediency in order to bring about the realisation of love’s purpose – the realm of God at large amongst and within us.

When faced with overwhelming forces, whether it be human conflict, the GFC, post 9/11 paranoia, or the technological revolution, it seems to me that my grandfather and the widow of Mark 12 point out our choices – be overcome by the flow or make your own creative gestures that counteract and subvert the deadly discourses.

A Biocentric view of the Cosmos

A View of Earth from Saturn (Photo credit: alpoma)

Our lectionary reading stopped at verse 25 of the Creation hymn of Genesis 1 – before it got to the arrival of human beings on this planet!

This more or less enforced a biocentric rather than an anthropocentric reflection on the first Genesis creation story. The Shorter Oxford Dictionary defines anthropocentrism thus: “humanity as the central fact of the universe.” In the first 25 verses, life in all its dynamic diversity, before humanity, is the focus.

Denis Edwards in Earth Revealing–earth Healing: Ecology and Christian Theology, makes these points:

Charles Birch (eminent Christian scientist/theologian) posits that a biocentric approach (emphasis on reverence for all life) “leads us to accept human responsibility for the fate of our world” and helps Christian apologists address a historical (and sometimes hysterical) charge of anthropocentrism.
Even so, “according to a typical allegation, “Christian arrogance toward nature”… is the major source of the contemporary ecological crisis. Even those who acknowledge much greater complexity in Christian tradition generally concede that the most dominant Christian traditions have been anthropocentric, in the strong sense of the term.
The most strident tradition is characterised as “Man as Despot” (a misreading of Genesis 1:26-28 and 9:2-3) ie humanity’s role is to subdue (rather than manage as steward) the earth (and exploit it)
Another prominent tradition, “Stewardship and cooperation with Nature”, is based on a reading of Genesis 2:15, The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it.
“A third tradition is also sometimes acknowledged. Most famously found in St Francis of Assisi, it maintains that “we are fellow companions of other creatures, all of whom rejoice in the beneficence of God.” It can be supported by reference to Genesis 1 as a whole (read with its original theocentric intent) and several of the psalms, where “all the earth sings a new song.”
“One of the major theological responses to the ecological crisis, particularly to allegations of Christian culpability, has been to revisit one or more of these traditions. A significant number of theologians are trying to elevate the third tradition, suitably developed, to a more prominent position in Church and society”

My view is that a contemplative approach to the first part of Genesis’ Creation Hymn seems to draw us away from the heady rush to an egocentric perspective that is prone to project too much of our own inbuilt anxiety, hubris and neurosis onto the cosmos and its Creator. To dwell on the “isness” of the universe and its natural elements, absorbing the divine stamp without the interference of the fact of my human-ness is to invite fresh dimensions of awareness.

Of course, one can’t maintain such a stance for long – after all, my humanity is itself a part of the universe. That’s just it! A part of – not a part from…

Our other reading was from John 1:1-14, culminating with the phrase “… the Word became flesh and dwelt among us…” The Word that was at the beginning and that is sung through the first 25 verses of Genesis.

See, all you who are worried about being absorbed into nothingness through my rambling – it turns out OK in the end!

A tale of two Armstrongs

Lance Armstrong getting mobbed (Photo credit: ShapeThings)

The name Armstrong has been abroad this weekend – a name common to two unrelated men – one a hero and the other … well, the jury would still be out if one had been called.

The hero, the now late Neil Armstrong, needs no introduction as the first human to set foot on an extra-terrestrial celestial body. Those of us who were around in 1969 remember where we were when he uttered those words on touching space-boot on the moon’s dusty floor: “A small step for (a) man; a giant step for mankind.” History was made in our time, and we actually witnessed it in black and white on the small screen.

The other Armstrong – Lance – is surrounded by controversy. Did he or did he not take performance enhancing drugs? Does he deserve to keep the seven Tour de France titles? Is his refusal to keep defending his innocence an admission of guilt or a pronouncement that 13 years of clean tests and no other charge-supporting evidence is quite enough, thank you? The current impasse sees officialdom stripping him of his titles while the ”unbelievers”‘ nudge and whisper “I told you so!” The ”believers” gather and pronounce their undying support for Lance, his innocence and the great cause for families’ fighting against cancer on which he is now focused.

His namesake, Neil, also had unbelievers to contend with – conspiracy theorists who believed the whole moon landing event was staged.

It seems that whether or not you are an Armstrong, to pull off an enormous, almost unimaginable feat is liable to attracting both belief and unbelief.

Ask Jesus. We’ve been in John’s gospel for a few week’s now following the dramatic dialogue of the crowds, the disciples, and the religious intelligentsia in the wake of the feeding of the multitudes. Jesus’ startling claim : “I am the Bread of Life” ignited controversy that led to many, even among his own disciples, falling into either the “belief” or “unbelief” camps.

Whether or not one believes in either of the Armstrong claims may or may not matter very much.

The fourth gospel’s take on the matter of “belief” does raise the stakes somewhat. It has more to do with what you’re willing to bet you life’s focus on. And the focus to which Jesus draws our attention tends to awaken either attraction or resistance which rapidly transmogrifies to belief or unbelief.

The Sapphires – a response

Cummeragunja Mission has an esteemed place in Australian Churches of Christ history. It was the place of birth and nurture of Sir Pastor Doug Nicholls, an eminent Aboriginal reformer and church leader and, eventually, State Governor of South Australia. Cummeragunja was also a byword for the dire conditions which led to the walkout and strike that was one of several harbingers of Aboriginal activism towards fair treatment and human rights, and that thrust Pastor Doug to the fore in such matters.

The mission forms the background for the Cummeragunja Songbirds, three sisters and a cousin,who, growing up on the mission singing Country & Western, eventually find themselves as The Sapphires, singing soul and rhythm and blues to Vietnam troops. The personal struggles of relationships, institutionalised racism and the legacy of the stolen generations is gently woven into the story – but it is the exuberance of soul music that dominates – the journey from country and western “that is all about loss” to soul “that is also about loss, but more the struggle to emerge stronger”‘ (in the similar words of their manager and mentor, who is also on his own quest for meaning.)

The beauty in the strength of the dominating but vulnerable older sister, the joie de vivre of her next sibling, the defiance and masterful voice of the youngest, and the struggle to identify that marks the path of the reunited cousin makes for plenty of drama within the quartet as well as beyond. There is much in this movie to appreciate, from the sheer enjoyment of the music, to the drama of intra-family struggle, to the sheer nostalgia of re-engaging with the issues of the sixties.