One can feel quite exhausted following a reading of the Gospel of Mark’s account of a day in the life of Jesus – today’s text Mark1: 29-39. There is a lot packed into the day so described. It is typical of Mark’s story-telling style – rapid, clipped, urgent, sparing of detail.
It gives a picture of a Jesus who is in total command. For Mark’s original community under heavy persecution and the threat of annihilation under Nero, it was strengthening to know that, even as they felt the breath of the hungry arena lion or the heat of the first flicker of flames at the stake, that the One in whom they had invested their total trust would hold them tight.
Recent times have seen an increase in awareness of many who still suffer religious persecution as Christians and other minority groups flee the Middle East and also the current Rohingya crisis bridging Myanmar and Bangladesh. One almost wishes for an Action Man or superhero to descend and sort it all out. The big picture in Mark’s Gospel, however, is focused on the urge for Jesus’ followers to exercise perseverance and focus on the message to which they are called, no matter what threatens to destroy them. I have often been inspired by stories of such faith emerging from the witness of the Coptic and Syrian Orthodox communities here in Perth
Mark tells us of no easy fix, no plastic action figure to save the day, but the trustworthy authority of Jesus who is also the Christ.
12And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. 13He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
The wilderness … at the same time beautiful and dangerous.
The wilderness … a place of unfamiliarity, where daily routine is suspended, when the busy surface minutiae of life fades and the big questions come to the fore.
Why am I here?
What’s it all about?
Where are we going?
The wilderness can be anywhere – the outback dryness north and east of Kalgoorlie – the frozen wastes of Antarctica – the steamy jungles of the Amazon – the windswept streets of the Perth CBD – the wastes of the suburban landscape – even our own bed at 3am when we can’t sleep.
The wilderness… when the Spirit drives you there you can expect to be tested. You will meet the accusations of the Tempter. (Satan, translated, means “accuser.”)
You will be with wild beasts and waiting angels.
And sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart.
On Ash Wednesday, we meditated on Gay Byrnes viral interview with Stephen Fry. Here it is again:
We did not rise to take issue with Stephen Fry (as did another well-loved comedian, Russel Brand).
We did not try to defend God.
Neither did we seek to collude with Stephen Fry’s stance.
In the context of the threshold of the Lenten journey to the cross and beyond, we did what was most appropriate in response to big questions that challenge our human fragility and limited capacity to understand.
We simply received it. Job’s questions had found a fresh voice. It is a voice that one will often hear whenever the topic of faith or religious belief arises as a topic of conversation.
The strength of its stridency, passion and persuasiveness will determine whether it’s a voice that comes to us in our own wilderness.
It’s a voice of testing: we may hear an accusing tone.
Possibly we hear the roar of a wild beast, threatening to devour us.
Sometimes, when we are still, we will hear the whisper of a waiting angel.
The wilderness is where our faith and trust is tested – a place of encounter with self-accusation, wild beasts and waiting angels.
Stephen Fry’s challenge cries out for a response.
For Job the response came from an overwhelming encounter with the Divine in the form of a whirlwind.
Russell Brand, in his response seeks to evoke the whirlwind, and good on him.
I have found in my past conversations on faith, as theologically trained as I am, I have limited capacity to emulate the whirlwind.
In the wilderness, where Christ has gone before, what voices do I listen for? Which are the voices that will take me to the essence of reality and allow me to return from the wilderness to a life of service and clear vision in Christ’s name?
On Friday, I saw this on the Churches of Christ National FaceBook page, a quote from Karl Barth for Dummies (I’m going to quote it in full):
One of the greatest dangers of theology is to take the protest of atheism too seriously. If it were to make this fatal error then theology would be distracted from its true purpose which is to expose and bring down the errors of human religion.
For the man and woman of faith must agree with the protest of atheism. Human religion is a sham. It has brought untold misery upon the earth. It has been used too often to bring too few too much money and power. There is no god that can be proved to exist according to the standards of human science. There is no god that can be shown to be consistent with the assumptions of human philosophy who is worthy of our worship and devotion. There is no invisible friend for you to talk to. There is no sky daddy who will shelter you from the terrors of the night.
So far the man and woman of faith must agree with the protest of atheism. But the man and woman of faith must go further. For atheism cannot exist without its protest. It cannot let religion go. Like a parasite feeding on its host it cannot exist without religion. Without the errors of religion it has no crusade. Without the errors of religion it has no passion to fuel its ethics. Like a parasite it attacks its host and hurts it, but it cannot kill it. Nietzsche proclaimed, “God is dead,” but behind his back his disciples worshipped new and more dangerous gods. Atheism has won the intellectual battle in the secular universities. But in most of them it is still possible to study human religion as something strange, or something fascinating, or something powerful, something that has done great harm but is also capable of some good in society, like some vitamin that is beneficial in small amounts, but poisonous in larger doses.
The problem of atheism is not that it goes too far, but that it does not go far enough. Atheism sees that the emperor has no clothes. But all it can do is point and laugh. The task of theology is to remove the emperor from his throne.
The atheist and the religious person can confess their sins according to the last six of the ten commandments. All agree that it is wrong to steal, wrong to lie, and wrong to commit adultery. But the man and woman of faith must confess their sins according to the first four commandments. We have worshipped false gods. We have built idols according to our own imagination. We have misused the name of the Lord to pursue our own ambitions and in service of our own causes. We have profaned the Sabbath in the service of religion. Yes, even in service of our Christian religion of which we are so proud. We boast of the cathedrals and hospitals that we have built. We boast of the great benefit we have brought to society in the name of religion.
But confession of our sins must lead us to true repentance. We must forsake our religion, our futile attempt to control the powerful forces of the universe. We must forsake our pageants and our fasts by which we fool ourselves of our own self righteousness. We have given only token offerings and congratulated ourselves while keeping firm grasp of all that we hold dear.
The atheist is an iconoclast, content to throw a few stones through the stained glass windows. But the man and woman of faith must bring the whole edifice down. In their mind, in their heart, in their life, and in the Church most importantly of all. For the atheist is our friend, our brother, even though we pity him. We share his rage against the sin and pride of humanity which has created its gods in its own image. But we cannot afford to keep the host alive on which atheism feeds. And we cannot afford to take the protest of atheism too seriously. Because human religion is our true enemy.
For it is only when we have renounced our religion, it is only when we have stopped laughing at the naked emperor of religion and brought him to justice for his crimes, that we are ready to receive by faith alone the true and living God who reveals himself in his Son Jesus Christ. Anything else, anything less is not only a crime against humanity, our own humanity, but a sin against God.
Out in the wilderness, vision is clearer.
We can join those who see that the Emperor has no clothes.
But the real task is to dethrone the Emperor, the false structures and systems that serve lesser purpose than the Way of Jesus.
Over recent years we have seen a groundswell of younger generations abandoning some of the forms and structures of being church that my generation has championed.
In the 60s and 70s we believed we were doing a great job of tearing down obsolete frameworks that divided church and society and that prevented the communication of the Christian story.
We replaced these frameworks with our own shibboleths and hoops that people had to jump through if they were to be a part of our cause.
We saw ourselves as a denomination preserving a particular (“peculiar” we called it!) contribution to the Body of Christ at large, rather than a dynamic movement enabling all to give expression to the living spirit of Christ.
14Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, 15and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”
Increasingly, young and old generations are now rising to the occasion and through their practical service, compassionate risk–taking and sacrificial advocacy for the needy – we hear voices that would normally echo Stephen Fry, Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens declare, “We haven’t changed our stance, but we are in step with what we see.”
The accuser is silenced, the wild beasts retreat, and the waiting angels bring healing balm and nourishing sustenance.
In sync with my current series as I trawl through a bundle of New Scientist articles thoughtfully loaned to me by a parishioner is this offering from today’s Facebook feed: Is your church still picking a fight with science?
My current congregation never has, but one sometimes gets the impression it’s one of a group of rogue ships in the ecclesiastical flotilla when the chips are down.
Today’s article makes the point that nostalgia for the past rather than preparedness to meet the challenge of the present drives the wedge between faith and science, thus perpetuating a false dichotomy. Many people of faith are also scientists at the peak of their disciplines, and it is the Church’s responsibility to nurture and encourage the inquiry they inspire. Instead, the public face of the Church highlighted across the media is of reactionary conflict rather than constructive dialogue.
Sometimes the conflict is legitimate. Scientific inquiry will, on occasion, be asked the Church’s valid question “Am I my brother’s keeper?” and it will be seen by some as unwarranted intrusion. Equally, scientists nurtured and respected by the non-reactionary faith community will be sympathetic to the ramifications of holistic perspectives in their fields of endeavour.
Today’s article finishes with four questions that any church community might thoughtfully consider.
What does your church do to proactively let people know that science, and scientists, aren’t the enemy?
How do you help to raise up young people who don’t see a conflict between the pursuit of an education and the faithful following of Jesus?
Does your church work to help members to recognize, and appreciate, different ways of reading the Bible?
Maybe we need a special Sunday to recognize and honor our scientists and their achievements; a hug a scientist for Jesus day, if you will. Is this something your church could do?
I don’t know if the scientists in my church want to be hugged – but they do know their work is respected!
I continue to leaf through the science magazines stacked on my desk and selecting lead articles to pass a parson’s comment on.
New Scientist (12 July 2014) treads bravely into a minefield with the tagline “Wheat intolerance is more about psychology than physiology.”
“Is it plausible that something that has been a staple food for centuries can be so bad for so many?” it pushes, while acknowledging it is indeed so for a small number of people with allergies or coeliac disease. It seems the large number of those who self-diagnose are in the firing line of this writer.
As one who has presided over communion services where gluten free wafers are sometimes an optional extra, the question mildly interests me.
Wheat is a significant metaphor in Christian symbology, and I have not had too much cause to ponder whether its banishment from gluten-free diets affects the metaphorical attachment we Christians place on it.
Jesus refers to wheat frequently in his parables. It is necessary for the grain to fall into the soil and die before sprouting and bringing forth prolific new life. The seed that falls on good soil brings forth multiple yields. The wheat and the tares grow together but will be separated at the harvest. The farmer sows but it is the rain and sun that brings forth growth. Jesus and his Galilee companions were surrounded by an agrarian economy .
Jesus used common staple fare to make his point. It is why, in some contexts, coconuts or rice are acceptable substitutes when celebrating communion. For coeliac sufferers, gluten-free fare is an appropriate substitute; it is their staple.
New Scientist points out that faddish endorsements of a gluten-free diet may obscure some important considerations. People with coeliac disease are warned of the risk that their diet could be deficient in key nutrients. Gluten-free foods are often short on fibre and high on sugar. Effective redress is complicated, inconvenient and often expensive.
In a substantially well-off economy over-supplied with an abundance of foodstuffs, the unafflicted can debate over a range of diets, try them out, and then move on to something else that becomes an obsession. I have a suspicion, however, that “gluten free” is not a phrase heard much in subsistence economies.
The lead story in New Scientist (22 March 2014) explains the physics behind the concept of multiverses and how such an understanding might be enhanced by the discovery that week of a method of peering even closer into the slivers of a second after the big bang . My poor head spun as I tried to get my mind around unfamiliar patterns of seeing, but I gather that observable distortions of wave patterns are now known not to be caused by gravity of other galaxies or telescope errors.
Accordingly, the pattern of these gravitational waves strengthen the idea that the universe is constantly giving birth to smaller “pocket universes”within an ever-expanding multiverse.
So where does one begin to think theologically about this? I looked no further than the same issue to discover that a 13th Century theologian, Robert Grosseteste, had written a treatise, De Luce, about the properties of light. “The work built on Aristotle’s idea that the motions of the stars can be explained by embedding Earth in a series of nine concentric spheres that make up the universe.” He proposed that the universe began with a flash of light, pushing everything out from a tiny point to a big sphere. He assumed a coupling of matter and light, with the density of the matter affecting waves of “inwardly propagating matter” thus resulting the form of the nine spheres.
Applying modern mathematics, a team from Durham University modeled Grosseteste’s process and found the multi-nested universe he postulated – thus also supporting the possibility of a multiverse.
Science and theology in apparent collusion in ways undreamed of in our post-Enlightenment era. Exciting!
Let’s kick off the Physicists & a Parson Parley series with a look at the lead article in New Scientist (1 March 2014) – “Your Million Year Mind.” (I keep catching myself reading it as “your million dollar mind” – how conditioned am I by the prevailing culture of economic rationalism?)
In summary, the piece explores how the measurable development of stone tools enables us to “look inside the heads” of those who made them. Drawing on research from Bruce Bradley’s Learning to be Human Project, the article tracks the progression of neural pathways that control basic dexterity and motor control through to advanced language, visual imagination, hierarchical thinking and improved memory. In short, it is a fascinating story exploring our cognitive evolution.
As a poetic parson, my mind naturally wanders to other tangents, looking for points of connection (apparently I’ve been able to do this since the days of Homo heidelbergensis or 600,000 years). The emergence of a capacity for visualisation and symbolism must have given rise to the first apprehensions of gods and the forces, visible and invisible, behind the universe. In western traditions, these emerge in a sophisticated form in creation stories like the Mesopotamian Gilgamesh Epic, refined by the Hebrew post-exilic reflective correction that we know as the first chapter of Genesis. It is the difference between experiencing existence as chaotic and meaningless or ordered and purposeful – an ongoing discussion for our own times.
The documented order of the evolution of the neural pathways of the human brain in this project are not inconsistent with the ordered purpose of the Genesis creation story, which remains open-ended, with humanity, male and female, climaxing the narrative as co-creators and stewards with God.
One wonders what the next 600,000 years will bring.
There’s a heap of New Scientist magazines on my desk. Scientists of various disciplines, some at the peak of their field, have always been present in the various faith communities I have served. To varying degrees, conversations between faith and science have been mutually rewarding. All have eschewed the alleged dichotomy advanced by fundamentalists of either religious or atheistic persuasion.
Back to those magazines which, I confess, attract and, at the same time, daunt me. As an arty type, I never did well in maths or any of the sciences at school. One of my congregants faithfully passes these magazines on to me, so I feel I should engage them. My intention now is to feature some conversations from topics raised in these magazines. Perhaps, following some decades of dialogue with my physicist parishioners, I can bring some insights that I would not have been capable of earlier.
A neighbouring colleague is a scientist who came to faith and ministry mid-career. She has sometimes mentioned the trepidation of that journey. So here’s me, having reached the notional age of retirement, attempting to do something similar in reverse!
Molnár Ábrahám kiköltözése 1850 From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
We first meet him in Genesis 12:1-4a, under his old handle, Abram. Already a senior citizen of Ur, he sets out for places unknown at the age of 75. Today, we would probably report him as a missing person, fearing that he had gone wandering off in a haze of dementia.
Abram’s journey, however, is the common touch point for Jewish, Christian and Muslim adherents worldwide. He is our faith ancestor.
If followers of the Way of Jesus are ever looking for for an entry point for conversation with Jewish or Muslim neighbours and co-workers, an invitation to mutual reflection of the journey of Abram and his kith and kin into uncharted lands and encounters could be a promising beginning.
This was one proposition on Q&A last night – and it wasn’t posed by a “religionist”! The politician-free panel comprised a spectrum of faith and non-faith stances and there was a full ranging discussion in which each panelist acquitted themselves respectfully and well. Interaction was free and relaxed, even when touching on the thorny issue of religious education.
Doubting Thomas strikes again and I am caught on the horns of a dilemma.
As an Easter person, I would dearly love to hear political leaders who also claim to be Easter people spell out the rationale of their party policies and how they line up as practical expressions of the reign of YHWH in a such an eclectic society as ours. I am particularly wary of the way the church can find itself sullied by being chained to party political agendas of both the left and the right. While it is commendable that Christians, more than ever, are exercising a right and a will to be engaged with politics, it is a matter of great concern to me that many do so in a way that is unreflective and unquestioning of the the manipulative strategies of the political machine.
Be “wise as serpents and gentle as doves” Jesus advises us.
It’s best that we lay aside the anachronistic “Christendom” model that many of us erroneously operate under. For all the foundational influence of Christendom, we are not a Christian nation but a secular one. This realisation can free followers of the way of Jesus enormously. Change in society runs deeper through transformation than legislation. We often make the mistake that legislation will lead to the changes in society that we seek. History reveals that legislation serves best when it responds to the transformation of the collective heart. The abolition of slavery as an economic necessity is the oft quoted example.
The church became politically powerful under Constantine, giving rise to the legislative might of Christendom. Many say that this was the beginning of the Church losing its soul. It became fat and lazy, losing the impetus and passion of the frontier movement of God’s realm. Political expediency rather that the “way of light” became the polar star. Those who continued to speak truth into this state of affairs were the social commentators of the time – prophets and contemplatives, men and women who immersed themselves in the silence of the desert in order to discern and hear what the eternal Word was for their contemporary time.
So, I guess I’ll register to hear what the leaders of our two main political parties have to say to us. Both are practicing Christians who have enormous expectations laid upon them by those of Christian faith, other faiths and no faith at all. The practical outcomes of their personal visions often appear to be at enormous variance with these expectancies. For this reason alone, Christians ought to seek understanding in order to “pray for those who rule over us” more intelligently.
But this isn’t the only thing. Many are the avenues for engagement with the political process. To the degree of our passion, clarity of vision to what and who we are summoned to be, our talents and abilities, societal transformation is within each person’s grasp.
12And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. 13He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
