"just as you imagined it would be"

A reflection on Luke 24: 1-12 and "The red tree" by Shaun Tan - Easter Day, 2007

“Just as you imagined it would be.”

And therein lies the problem. The problem is our imaginations, or rather our lack of imaginations.

It is too easy to imagine some things but not others. We can imagine crucifixion, but find it hard to open our minds to the possibility of resurrection. Our imaginations, it seems to me, become slave to our experience when it might be far more useful if the other were to apply: instead of our imaginations being limited by what we have experienced as “real”, we need to let our reality be shaped by what we can imagine.

“The red tree” is a story of the triumph of imagination over reality. The red tree exists because the little girl is capable of imagining it as real. Amidst the gloom and despair of those who cannot imagine the fire and the flame of the tree there exists another reality, a reality brought into being through the imagination of one who believes. And so it is with the resurrection of Jesus whom we call the Christ.

Some of you may recall an encounter I had some months ago with an atheist friend. Part of her denigration of Christianity was that “believers” are tied to a literal reading of those texts in which we claim to find God. “How can you possibly believe everything that you find in a book two thousand years old?” she challenged. “How can you believe that the earth was created in seven days? That Noah really took two animals of each kind on board an ark? How can you believe that Jesus walked on water, or cast out demons? How can you believe that he was killed and then rose again?”

It was interesting to be accused of being a literalist when my friend seemed to be incapable of doing anything other than hearing the truth of God literally. Without imagination, she was helplessly tied to the realities of her own existence: Gods don’t speak Creation into being; old men don’t sail arks on the high seas; human beings don’t walk on water or cast out demons or are raised from the tomb simply because she has never experienced these things and cannot imagine them to be true.

For her, lack of faith is no more than lack of imagination.

And conversely, perversely perhaps, we too suffer from a lack of imagination. Having heard the stories so many times we become tied to familiar images and constructs. Yes, we can imagine scenes from two thousand years ago – donkeys carrying Messiahs, stone jars miraculously full of wine, even a crucifixion and a resurrection – but can we imagine those self-same things happening here and now?

The women come early in the morning to find the stone rolled away and the body absent. And they are terrified. How could they possibly have imagined such a thing would happen? Is it any wonder that their story seemed nothing more than “an idle tale” to those singularly unimaginative men who had followed uncomprehending and unconvinced behind the one who refused to be limited by earthly realities?

Are we any different? Can we imagine a different reality beyond the literal certainties of twenty-first century Australia?

Instead of death, can we imagine life?

Instead of hunger and poverty, can we imagine an abundant world called into reality by a prodigal God?

Instead of war and violence, can we truly imagine peace?

Instead of loneliness and isolation, can we imagine a community which is truly the household of God?

Can we imagine resurrection, here and now?

And if we can imagine these things, how will they shape and change us and our reality?

Will imagining abundance encourage us to live generously?

Will imagining peace make us insist on an end to war?

Will imagining community lead us into community, draw us towards our neighbours with arms outstretched?

How will the resurrection come into our lives?

Will it be “just as we imagined it would be”?

Good Friday, 6 April 2007

First reading John 18: 1-40

Reflection1

we convince ourselves

that we would not

act as Jesus' friends do in this story,

but lest we forget:

we are the ones

who slip quietly away

when asked to stand

beside the poor and oppressed;

lest we forget:

we are the deniers

of Jesus

when we turn our backs

on those whom

our world does not recognize.

lest we forget:

we are the greedy

who cling to possessions

we never use

when they could bless others;

lest we forget:

we are the comfortable

who can sleep

through the cries

of hungry children.

lest we forget:

let us remember

who we are

and who we can become.

Second reading John 19: 1-25

Reflection2

ridiculed by his enemies,

outcast of his kin,

deserted by his friends,

God-forsaken,

the Morning Star of Creation

hangs

covered with the grit

of the sins of the world.

nailed to the cross,

the Carpenter of Calvary

repairs our brokenness

that we might be

restored to God's kingdom.

Third reading John 19: 25b-42

Reflection3

feet that danced

through the streets

of Jerusalem

welcoming the Messiah

now softly pad

the back alleys

in search of shadows;

hearts that leapt

with joy at the sight

of David's true son

are left shattered

in Golgotha's

garbage;

hands that wrapped

a new born son

in bright bands of birth cloth

now shroud

his broken body

and lay him

gently

in death's manger.

where glad hosannas

rang out

there is now

only

the silent,

weeping

heart

of God.

Thom M. Shuman

Greenhills Community Church, Presbyterian Cincinnati, Ohio

Personal Reflection

I would rather not be here this morning.

I would rather be somewhere else, somewhere where I didn’t have to think about my God, my saviour, my friend taken and beaten and crucified and dead.

I would rather be somewhere else where bad things never happen to good people, where we only get what we deserve, where it’s not necessary to admit that life is not fair, never has been, never will be.

I would rather be somewhere else this morning. But God is here.

God is here because life is not fair.

God is here because bad things do happen to good people.

God is here because all those years ago God went to the cross, and God knows we would all rather be somewhere else.

In Gethsemane, Jesus said, “I would rather be somewhere else.”

But in the Temple courtyard, the priests said, “No, you must be here.”

In their failure to understand, the crowd said, “No, you must be here.”

In their absence, the disciples said, “No, you must be here.”

And in the agony of this world, Jesus said, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

But God is here.

And we are too.

Hosanna! Come and deliver us!

A reflection on Palm Sunday

“The Donkey’s Owner” by Clive Sansom.

Snaffled my donkey, he did --- good luck to him!

Rode him astride, feet dangling, near scraping the ground
Gave me the laugh of my life when I first saw him,
Remembering yesterday --- you know, how Pilate come
Bouncing the same road, on that horse of his
Big as a house and the armour shining
And half of Rome trotting behind him.
Tight mouthed he was
Looking as if he owned the world.

Then today,
Him and my little donkey! Ha! Laugh ---?

I thought I’d kill myself when he first started.

So did the rest of them. Gave him a cheer
Like he was Caesar himself, only more hearty:

Tore off some palm twigs and followed shouting,
Whacking the donkey’s behind ….. Then suddenly
We see his face.

The smile had gone, and somehow the way he sat

Was different --- like he was much older --- you know ---

Didn’t want to laugh no more.

Jesus has spent three years teaching and healing – seeking to open his followers’ eyes and ears to the truth that he has come, not to be a powerful king who would overthrow the Romans and oppress them in retribution for their treatment of the Jews but:

"to bring good news to the poor.
to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favour."

Luke 4:18-19 (NRSV)

But, despite all his teaching, the people continue to long for a Messiah who would establish the Kingdom of Israel (the Kingdom of God) here on earth.

“Hosanna, save us,” the people cry. “Come and deliver us! Do it like David did! Make yourself king! Change things around here – turn the tables! We’re here to cheer you on so you can save us. Hosanna! Come and deliver us!”

But God does it God’s way – not our way. Jesus rides on with a different understanding of time and a different definition of saving people. Jesus rides on to the cross.

If this is our Messiah – one who stands over against our worldly ways: one who chooses servanthood over power; one who overcomes oppression with love rather than with force – then what sort of church are we called to be?

In Matthew 16 Jesus says, “And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church” and then in John 21 we read Jesus’ simple instructions to Peter, “feed my lambs” “tend my sheep” “feed my sheep”.

The church is built upon Peter, and Christ’s instructions to Peter are about caring for his sheep - not only the 99 in the fold but more importantly the ones who are lost. It seems to me then, that the type of church we are called to be is one which is willing to leave the 99 in the fold in order to tend to the 1 who is lost.

The church is to be a fellowship of reconciliation – an instrument of Christ’s work and witness. We are reminded that it is God’s mission and Christ’s work and that God uses us to achieve what God wants.

We are a church that is constituted, ruled and renewed by Christ. When we look at Jesus riding on a donkey it is clear that this is no earthly ruler and so it follows that the church he chooses to constitute, rule and renew is not going to be a creation of our earthly desires and longings.

I am thankful for the wisdom of those who call me back to this image of a crucified and risen Christ who is the head of our church. I am thankful for the way in which they remind me of the sort of church we are called to be. There is no talk in the gospels of success, but there is much said about faithfulness to the Christ who rode towards the cross on a donkey rather than riding to the temple on a war horse.

If the church is the instrument of Christ then we must point to Christ. Some will point to Christ through their care, some through their ability to journey with people, others through their teaching, while others will point to Christ in their challenge to our comfortable existence. In many ways what we do is not as important as the way in which we point to Christ.

Like the people of Jesus’ time it is natural for us to look for someone who will save us, who will come and deliver us – after all no sane person wants to be the one who is oppressed, the one in pain, or the one who is without power. Time and again we look for leaders who will rescue us from all that is difficult in our lives. But to do so is to look in the wrong direction. As we journey towards the cross and the empty tomb may we look to Jesus – eating with sinners, healing the blind, and riding on a donkey towards the cross – for you, for me, for all people. Amen.

Prodigal God

A reflection on Luke 15: 1-32 - Sunday, 18 March 2007

On our first trip from Darwin to Alice Springs we camped one night at what was then called the Devil’s Marbles. There were four adults and six young children in our group. We pulled up at about 5.30pm, set up our tents, got a fire going, cooked dinner, fed the children and got them to bed. When all was calm we sat under the stars and talked about the day that had been, the one that was coming, and the amazing experience we were having.

At about 8 o’clock another vehicle pulled into the rest stop. It was a truck towing a 40 foot (or 10 metre) caravan. The people got out of their truck, started their generator, and then disappeared back inside their van. They switched on their lights, turned on their television and their air-conditioner, presumably cooked dinner on their electric stove, and had a hot shower. We were left wondering just how much of the outback they were experiencing when they weren’t prepared to leave behind all the comforts of home.

Sometimes I think it can be like that for us. We talk about wanting to experience new things, about wanting to be changed people, about repenting and being transformed by the love of Christ, but we’re not willing to let go of old ways.

Repentance

Last week I spoke about repentance. Repentance is more about our turning to God than it is about that from which we turn. And today’s gospel reading is a further illustration of this.

Did you know that the word prodigal means extravagant, generous, lavish, abundant, and plentiful? We usually interpret it as meaning wasteful or spendthrift, but it also means extravagant, generous, lavish, abundant and plentiful.

It has only been in later manuscripts that this parable has been given the title of “the Prodigal son”. Early manuscripts had no such titles. Historically our interpretations of this story have focused on the younger son, on the repentance of the son, on his learning his lesson; and the story has been used to remind us of the need to repent. That interpretation is both valid and helpful.

But I want to suggest there is another layer to this story. I want to ask, “Who is it who is being extravagant and generous? Who is it who is being lavish, abundant and plentiful” The word prodigal can be applied to the father as much as it can to the son. When we apply the word prodigal to the father then we are more likely to be focused on who is turned to rather than what is left behind.

When we turn again to God, when we repent, we find ourselves face to face with this prodigal father – this parent who is extravagant and generous in love and lavish in forgiveness.

A reckless God

The passage tells us that the father runs to meet his son. This patriarch, this well-respected man in a long robe, gathered his garment up around his knees and ran to meet his son. He doesn’t wait for his beloved son to come begging. He doesn’t make him hang his head in shame. He runs to meet him, to gather him into his arms, to kiss him, to welcome him home. It is good to remember this is how the father expresses his forgiveness for the son long before the son speaks words of repentance.

This story is the culmination of a series of stories in Luke’s gospel about the nature of God. The story of the prodigal is preceded in Luke’s gospel by the feeding of the four thousand and the feeding of the five thousand; by the story of the lost sheep and the lost coin. Every one of these stories points to God as anything but cautious when it comes to love and forgiveness and reconciliation.

A resentful brother

Yet, even in the face of that wonderful good news, there is tragedy in this parable. The tragedy lies with the older brother. He has done all the right things. He stays and works with his father. He acts to protect the family honour. He is responsible.

But in the end that isn’t what matters. Being responsible doesn’t provide him with reconciliation. It leaves him estranged from his father and his brother.

I wonder if you share my sympathy for the older brother? Being responsible is a valued characteristic in our society and in the church. while being careless with money, as the younger brother was, is frowned upon.

One of the things that happens for us is that whatever we value we tend to project that onto God. So when we value responsibility we construct a picture of a God who rewards responsibility and who disapproves of irresponsibility. But that is not how it works in this parable!

Luke tells us we have an extravagant, generous, and lavish God who embraces us with love and forgiveness. This parable serves to disrupt our image of God. It offers us a new image – a prodigal God.

A new creation

This new image of a generous, lavish, extravagant God isn’t one we can put alongside the old disapproving God who only rewards responsibility. We have to let go of old ways of knowing God in order to embrace new ways.

If we return to my experience of camping in the Northern Territory: the people who hold onto their known ways of living miss out on the starry sky and the stillness of the night.

Paul writes:

So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation

This passage is part of Paul’s argument that when we become Christians our approach to people and to life will be based in a new value system. In Christ we are a new creation, and this means our values, our attitudes and our behaviour will be different from that of the world.

We will live in ways which reveal the prodigal God we have discovered when we have turned again to God.

Philip Yancey, in his book Amazing Grace puts it well:

If the world despises a notorious sinner,
the church will love her.

If the world cuts off aid to the poor and the suffering,
the church will offer food and healing.

If the world oppresses,
the church will raise up the oppressed.

If the world shames a social outcast,
the church will proclaim God’s reconciling love.

If the world seeks profit and self-fulfilment,
the church seeks sacrifice and service.

If the world demands retribution,
the church dispenses grace.

If the world splinters into factions,
the church joins together in unity.

If the world destroys its enemies,
the church loves them.

That is the vision of the world which Luke shares with us when he writes of a God who will leave the 99 in order to search for 1, a God who will feed the hungry, and a God who will run to meet those who have turned towards God.

It is this prodigal God who says to us:

‘Quickly, bring out a robe--the best one--and put it on; put a ring on your finger and sandals on your feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this child of mine was dead and is alive again; she was lost and is found!' And we will begin to celebrate.

In the wilderness

I came to Australia as an almost ten year old, and I began my Queensland education in grade five. Memory suggests that grade five social studies was all about white explorers lost in the wilderness: Sturt; Burke and Wills, Ludwig Leichhardt. Story after story from our brief white history of what happened in this strange new continent. It seemed to me that there was an awful fascination with the past.

We might ask why this fascination with the past. This morning I want to affirm something that we hear said fairly regularly – that our future depends on our past. Not that it will be the same as our past, but that if we don’t know our past then we don’t have much of a future.

I believe we need to be grounded in our story. We need to know who we are and whose we are in order to step into the future.

Allow me to offer you a few dot points as it were for the story we share:

A wandering Aramean was our ancestor.

We are sons and daughters of this wandering Aramean, Abraham.

When we were treated harshly – when things went badly for us – God heard our cries.

God brought us out of slavery.

God sent Jesus that we might be saved through him.

We are redeemed – saved by the crucified and risen Jesus.

Or as we recall in our baptismal service:

We are born again as children of God,
joined to Christ in his death and resurrection,
sealed with the Holy Spirit,
made members of the body of Christ, and
called to his ministry in the world.

The Hebrew Scriptures are littered with retellings of the story of being God’s people. Time and again the story of salvation is retold, just as we retell it in our baptismal and eucharistic liturgies. This story is meant to be an integral part of who we are. Our very being – who we are, what we say and what we do – is to proclaim this story.

Why? Why is retelling the story so important?

Well, when we look at the bible we find that the story was often told at times of transition in people’s lives. The story of being God’s people was rehearsed as a source of hope in difficult times. Of course, it was also told at other times – it had to be or there was a risk the story would be forgotten. But the real power of the story comes when the going is tough.

In those situations the story became the means of moving through difficult times and into a new future with God. We are a people whose central story is the Easter story: that movement from crucifixion to resurrection, from death to new life.

When we know this story – when we live out our belief in this story – then, because of the security we have in our groundedness in Christ, we are able to step into an unknown future with God.

And I want to suggest that this is how it was for Jesus in the wilderness. It was because Jesus knew his story as a descendant of a wandering Aramean and because he knew the story of God’s faithfulness that he was able to withstand these temptations.

Henri Nouwen, the Catholic priest who spent his last years living with people with disability, wrote a book on Christian leadership. He uses the temptations of Christ as the framework for his book In the name of Jesus.

In the book he translates each of the temptations into a temptation for our time; he points to the underlying issue; and then he offers a discipline which guides us in our journey of faithfulness to Christ.

For each temptation there is an underlying issue and then a discipline to assist us. To each of these temptations I want to add a principle for being the church in our time and place.

Temptation 1:

The devil said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread."

Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone.'"

Nouwen says that the parallel temptation for us is to be relevant: to do whatever it takes to be attractive as a church. If turning stones into bread will feed the people then, says the devil, go for it. But Jesus says no. We cannot live by bread alone.

Nouwen says the underlying issue is a question asked of us by God: “Do you love me?” He immediately turns our eyes to God. Our focus isn’t on success but on God who asks us “Do you love me?” That is a confronting question to be asked. Can I honestly answer yes without examining every aspect of my life and my relationships? How does my life answer that question? How does your life answer that question? “Do you love me?”

Nouwen suggests that the discipline to help us with this temptation is contemplative prayer. Only when we are willing to spend time – extended periods of time – attending to God will we be able to answer that question.

The temptation to be relevant is very real for the church today. As numbers fall and as our society shows little interest in organised religion we look around for what will grab people’s attention: new programs, new leaders, new buildings, new technology, … the list seems endless.

But Christ reminds us that what we need is every word that comes from the mouth of God. People today will only hear God’s words of salvation, love and grace through us and through the relationships we share with them. We embody the word of God to our families, our neighbours and our communities.

The church of Christendom (that time when the church was at the centre of society) sought to draw people to it; instead, we are called into the world to be the presence of God to others.

As the church in this time and place, we need to be careful of this temptation to be relevant. We cannot ignore our context; we are called to be salt in the world. But we cannot be driven by a desire to be relevant. What draws us into our communities is the call of God we hear when we attend to God’s presence already in those communities.

Temptation 2:

Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world.

And the devil said to him, "To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours."

Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'"

Nouwen suggests that the second temptation is the temptation to be spectacular. It is only one short step from the desire to be relevant to the desire to be spectacular: the biggest and the best church there is!

The underlying issue here, says Nouwen, is caught up in the words of Jesus to Peter, “Feed my sheep.” We are not called to be spectacular. We are not called to be powerful. We are not called to be successful. We are called to feed Christ’s sheep.

And the discipline we need is that of confession and forgiveness. We need to come before our God in humility confessing our sins and knowing, deep within ourselves, God’s gracious and overwhelming forgiveness.

As I read much of what is around about successful churches, I believe this is a temptation of which we need to be very aware. Anyone who suggests they have all the answers to the problems of the church is to be avoided. What is needed is humility, not arrogance, before God. What is needed is a willingness to risk the path of feeding Christ’s sheep – especially the lost ones – even though they may never thank us for the food which we share. There is nothing spectacular in that sort of service, but that is what we are called to be.

Temptation 3:

Then the devil took Jesus to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'"

Jesus answered him, "It is said, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'"

This third temptation, says Nouwen, is the temptation to be in control. The underlying challenge is to accept that “somebody else will take us”: to let go of the control of our future. If Jesus had put God to the test at that point and God’s angels had rescued him then Jesus could have felt in control every step of the way even to the cross. But Jesus didn’t feel in control every step of the way. He wept, he was angry, he even felt abandoned. Jesus allowed somebody else to lead him and we need to be willing to do the same.

Nouwen says that the discipline we need to deal with this temptation is that of theological reflection. To reflect theologically is to ask the question “where is God in what is happening?” It is to ask “what does this experience teach me about God?” and “how does my knowledge of who God is help me in this experience?” To reflect theologically is to seek to be constantly aware of the presence of God in our lives. And because the church at mission is seeking always to participate in God’s activity in the world then we must always be attending to the presence of God.

It would be easy at this point in our lives to spend a lot of energy worrying about the future. But that doesn’t get us to God’s future. Trusting God is what sets us free for God’s future. Knowing and living our story as the people of a crucified and risen Christ is what will carry us forward. Only when we love God, when we say “yes” to Christ’s invitation to “feed my sheep”, when we allow ourselves to be led by others, then we will find ourselves in the midst of something wonderful – not just change but transformation: God’s recreation of who we are as God’s people in this time and place.