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.

Attending... worshipping... serving: becoming the people of God

A reflection on Nehemiah 8: 1-10 and Luke 4: 14-21: Sunday, 21 January 2007

How many times have you been to church in your life? Is that a calculation you have ever made?

If I do some rough maths (and it is very rough maths), if I have averaged church thirty times a year (only thirty to allow for those teenage years when I was not quite the little angel I was earlier), thirty times a year for fifty-four years – that’s 1, 620 times I’ve sat in church! 1, 620 times I’ve heard the bible read. 1, 620 times I’ve joined in the singing of hymns. 1, 620 times I’ve been spell-bound by the minister’s preaching (well, perhaps not 1, 620 times; there has been the odd sermon which was somewhat less than spell-binding; perhaps even more than the odd sermon).

When you stop and think about it, it’s a lot of time spent in church, isn’t it? And that’s not counting the time devoted to youth groups and choir practices (before my voice broke), the hours given to home groups and committee meetings, to church camps and Sunday school picnics. It’s a lot of time, and I have to ask myself the big question: Has it made me any different?

Have all of those hours, those prayers, that reflection on the Word of God, has any of that changed me? Am I a better person because of it all?

Now, I know that there are other reasons for going to church other than self-improvement. I would actually argue that changing me is hardly the most important reason for turning up here on Sunday morning; worship is about God, about glorifying God, and changing me is low on the list of priorities, but I still have to ask that question.

And what prompts me to ask that question is what I find in today’s bible readings.

Both the Nehemiah reading with which we began this morning and the gospel reading are set in the context of worship. Both typify what going to church is all about. For example, in Nehemiah we have the bringing in of the Scripture, the people answering Amen; we have the people listening for the word of God, and the teaching of those given authority to interpret.

Now all of those things are typical of what happens here week by week.

Similarly, on the sabbath day in the synagogue in Nazareth, Jesus “goes to church”. We’re not given a rundown on all the elements of synagogue worship but we can safely assume that it was business as usual.

However, there are two things highlighted in these readings which skewer me with that question about being changed.

Firstly, in the reading from Nehemiah we hear these words:

[A]ll the people wept when they heard the words of the law.

[A]ll the people wept when they heard the words of the law.

And I have to ask myself, “When was the last time that listening to the Word of God reduced me to tears?” When was the last time that what happened in worship was so potent that I was genuinely touched?

It has happened, of course. I do remember being in tears in church. There was even one memorable occasion when my whole family wept around me. It was a significant and powerful moment, and I can identify that as a time of considerable change for my family and for me.

Worship is supposed to touch us. We are meant to be moved and changed by what happens as we gather together in the presence of God. I don’t mean that every week we are expected to burst into tears when the bible is read. I don’t mean that every single one of us is meant to respond exactly the same way at exactly the same time. And I certainly don’t mean that the worship leader’s primary role is to whip the congregation into an emotional frenzy in order to facilitate the bringing on of tears. But we are supposed to be touched, influenced, changed by the process of worshipping our God.

Now change is an interesting thing. It can and does happen in many different ways, which is why I asked earlier, not just “Has worship made me any different?” but “Am I a better person?”

Those who gather in the square, those who hear the law read out, all respond by weeping. Hearing the word of God has reminded them of who God is and who they are. They are reminded that the completion of the rebuilding of the walls of the city is not the end, the highlight, the completion of their calling, but that their end is in fact to be the people of God. Why do they weep? Because they are confronted with the reality that they have had their priorities wrong. Wall-building is fine; but being the people of God is their greatest calling.

Anna Grant-Henderson, the Uniting Church minister and Old Testament scholar, comments:

The proclamation of the Law was a reminder to the people of the covenant relationship with God and what was required of them. It is part of a liturgical celebration which leads to the people responding in action.

What happens in worship leads to action, which is precisely what we find in Luke’s gospel. Today’s reading is just the first part of the story; the next part of the story tells us how those listening to Jesus responded to him, and that’s enlightening, but it’s far more important for us to identify what Jesus is driving at in taking the scroll of Isaiah and reading the section he chose.

Why did Jesus select that particular passage? What does it tell us about Jesus and the God of Jesus?

When Jesus climbs to his feet and reads, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor” he is telling us about what he believes his purpose in life is. If Jesus is touched by reading the word of God, his response is, “[God] has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind”. If thirty years of attending worship in the synagogue has touched Jesus, it is to bring him to the point where he can proclaim that his whole mission is “to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.”

Jesus’ response to his God is to turn towards others, because others are in need.

To quote Edward Markquart:

God's story is always related to human need. For example, if a woman is dying of cancer, the gospel is God's strong word of resurrection. If a person is permeated with guilt, the gospel is God's assurance of forgiveness. If people experience extreme suffering, the gospel is the prayer: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble." For the starving, the gospel may be bread. For a homeless refugee, the gospel may be freedom in a new homeland. For others, the gospel may be freedom from political tyranny. The gospel is always related to human need... The gospel is God's truth, God's message, God's action, God's word to a particular person, to a particular need, to a particular historical situation. You don't throw a drowning person a sandwich. However good the sandwich may be, it just doesn't meet that person's need. You throw a drowning person a life jacket or a lifeline, or you dive in for the rescue. So it is with the gospel. The gospel is God's truth, God's action, aimed at a particular human need.

Edward Markquart Witnesses for Christ:

Where does that leave us? How do we respond when we are touched by the gospel, the Word of God who is good news to the poor? Does the Spirit of Lord descend upon us to send us out to the poor, the captive, the blind, the oppressed. Do we recognise the needs of those around us, and do we recognise that we are sent be a part of the year of the Lord’s favour?

Already in the time I have been here I have seen numerous examples of people responding to the gospel because they see the needs of others. Sometimes those needs are the needs of other people within the life of the church, and it is good when we reach out to help one another at difficult times in our lives. That is what being community is about.

At other times, I have seen people responding to the needs of people they have never met and never will meet; through God-given opportunities such as the Christmas Bowl or the empty tree or Shellie’s work in Papua, we reach out to meet needs beyond our own community.

And, on occasions, we recognise the poor just outside, the captives in the streets nearby, the blind waiting for us close at hand, and the oppressed looking longing for our doors to open and for us to go out to be with them in their time of need.

Responding to God is not easy. Often there are tears – just ask all those who wept when they heard the words of the law; just ask Jesus when the mob turned against him. But we come to church, not to accumulate points which will get us into heaven, but to be reminded of who God is and who we are, the people of God. We come to hear that Christ has come to proclaim good news for others and to respond, “Amen. Amen.” So let it be. So let it be.

To each . . . for the common good

A reflection on John 2:1-11: Sunday, 14 January 2007

Over the years, Carol and I have been to the cinema on quite a number of occasions to see movies which are all about weddings.

There was My best friend’s wedding, and Four weddings and a funeral; there was the very Australian Muriel’s wedding, and the remake of an old favourite Father of the bride.

These movies are all comedies and the use of wedding breakfasts for comic possibilities is a tried and true formula. Even Greek theatre more than two thousand years ago was using the wedding feast as the setting for comedy.

Today’s gospel reading is another wedding breakfast, but is it comedy?

Well, let’s think about this for a moment. Can we recognise comic elements in the story, even if it doesn’t read like twenty-first century comedy to us?

Some comic possibilities:

1. The story is set among general drunkenness, after all of the other wine has run out, even the wine which is usually saved until after all the guests are drunk.

2. The Jewish mother tries, not once but twice, to organise her son into doing things her way.

3. To the amusement of the reader, the man supposedly in charge of the festivities, the chief steward, does not know what is going on.

4. And even more humorously, his servants, who are not supposed to know anything, know exactly what has happened!

But this is not a story told just for laughs.

The writer of John’s gospel sets the story in this fashion, not for the comedy, but so that we can fully appreciate the irony of what happens. The irony.

Here, at the beginning of the gospel, at the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry, we are told the story which is usually reserved for the end.

We get the “happy ending” story at the beginning!

In My best friend’s wedding the reception is at the end, the story comes to its conclusion. So, too, with Father of the bride. And even with Four weddings and a funeral, where there is no wedding at the end, the final act is played out with the friends gathered around the kitchen table, drinking coffee, the almost wedding feast.

Wedding feasts signal the end. The comedy is resolved, the time of peace and stability has arrived.

But the wedding feast at Cana comes at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.

What ending is there here?

The clue to the answer to this question lies in the symbolism of the six stone water jars which, we are told, were used “for the Jewish rites of purification”.

This wedding breakfast is the end.

It is the end of inadequate ways of making people clean.

In the same way that the wine ran out for those gathered for the wedding, so had the rituals of Judaism come to the end of their usefulness for salvation.

Jesus, with the new wine, is the end of one way of doing things and the start of a new way..

The beginning of Jesus’ ministry is the beginning of a new way to salvation.

This story points to the end of an era and to a new revelation of God in the person of Jesus Christ.

Within this story, however, there are other clues as to why it is positioned here, and to the significance of this story within the overall context of John’s gospel.

There are only two places in the entire gospel of John where Mary, the mother of Christ, is mentioned. Only two:

Here, at the beginning, she speaks to Jesus and he replies,

“Woman, what concern is that to you and to me?
My hour has not yet come.”

The only other place where Mary is mentioned is at the crucifixion of Jesus, at the end, where her son speaks to her from the cross, again calling her “Woman”.

Why is this so?

I believe the answer lies with Jesus’ next words to Mary at the wedding feast:

“My hour has not yet come.”

Jesus’ “hour” is when the glory of God will be revealed and that hour will not arrive until he is hung on a cross, and the salvation of humanity is not fulfilled until Jesus is revealed to be the Son of God.

Jesus understands that his glory is not to be revealed casually through some cheap miracle.

But Jesus is revealed.

Despite his protests, Mary goes over his head to the servants.

Jesus is revealed and the disciples believe in him because of this, the “first of his signs”.

There is something here for us –- something reassuring, something encouraging.

Yes, this is a miracle, and because of this miracle the disciples believe.

But what kind of miracle is this?

It’s a quiet one, an unassuming one.
Jesus goes to great lengths not to make a fuss, not to draw attention to himself.

In fact, this miracle goes almost unnoticed.

If it weren’t for his mother, the disciples and the servants, this whole episode would have gone quite unremarked.

Jesus takes that most ordinary of substances, water, and turns it into something only marginally more remarkable, wine.

There is no nature miracle, no stilling of a storm or something like it, to mark the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.

There is no miraculous healing to draw the crowds to this new-found saviour.

There is no divine voice booming from heaven to command the recognition of this Jewish peasant as the heavenly Messiah.

We are drawn to belief in Christ through this very ordinary miracle –- the changing of a few litres of water into wine.

And why does Jesus perform this common miracle?

Is it too much to suggest that he does it for the “common good”?

Who benefits when Jesus turns water into wine?

Those at the party were not all disciples/believers.

It was not just the righteous sons of Israel, not just the holy, not just the deserving.

All those present were given this simple gift of wine.

They all benefited, they were all given the best that Jesus had to offer.

And so we find the theme of gifts for the common good.

The gifts of Jesus are gifts for all.

This is what Paul is driving at in the reading from Corinthians where he says: To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. To each . . . for the common good.

Epiphany – is the season in which we reflect on how God is revealed.

God is revealed in Jesus through this miracle and his disciples begin to believe.

God is not completely revealed: that will not happen until Jesus is crucified and then rises again.

God is revealed for a purpose: that is, for the common good, for all people.

For us, this story points to God’s involvement in the very ordinary and everyday business of life. God’s desire is to be part of our ordinary and everyday lives, and that we, too, might believe in him. Jesus is Emmanuel –- God-with-us - revealed in the ordinary: water for washing, wine for drinking, friends for loving, and even comedy for laughing. Amen.

Things to come...

First of all, apologies to anyone who has been looking for new material in the last few weeks. For a variety of reasons, I haven't managed to post anything since December. However, normal transmission looks set to resume in the near future.

Please note that at the bottom of each post, there is an icon for comments. I would love to have feedback on anything that appears here on this blogspot, so please feel free...

2007 is shaping up to be an interesting year! Lots of things to explore and discover on the journey of faith. May you feel the closeness of the incarnate God with you each step of the way.

Peace - beginning here

A reflection Luke 3: 2-6: Sunday, 10 December 2006

The second Sunday of Advent is the Sunday for Peace, and you might be forgiven for wondering just how today’s bible readings talk to us about peace. Well, they don’t – at least, not directly. What they do talk to us about is “change”.

Malachi is about change. John the Baptiser is about change.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, we hear the prophet ask:

“Who can endure the day of God’s coming, and who can stand when God appears?”

And God speaks:

“I will draw near to you for judgment; I will be swift to bear witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers, against those who swear falsely, against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the alien, and do not fear me.”

But the Holy One is not really interested in judgment; what is really desired is change:

“Return to me, and I will return to you.”

God’s desire is for reconciliation:

“[You will] be mine,” says the Lord of hosts, “my special possession on the day when I act, and I will spare [you] as parents spare their children.”

When we’re thinking about peace, then the list of accusations against God’s people is interesting: adulterers, liars, oppressors, the arrogant – all of these people who destroy peace. And peace cannot be possible without change, the opportunity for change which God holds out to all.

And this is a central theme in the life and work of John who went around baptising. What was baptism for John?

“basically the rite functioned as an expression of willingness to change and be prepared for change by receiving divine forgiveness. Baptism is submission to this new initiative. It is not simply change of the individual, but change of the individual in readiness for change of the world. Change of the world means transformation, liberation, freedom, salvation.

Bill Loader

The Chinese philosopher Lao-tse says exactly this:

"If there is to be peace in the world,
There must be peace in the nations.

If there is to be peace in the nations,
There must be peace in the cities.

If there is to be peace in the cities,
There must be peace between neighbours.

If there is to be peace between neighbours,
There must be peace in the home.

If there is to be peace in the home,
There must be peace in the heart."

Christ coming to us at Christmas – this Christmas, every Christmas – is to draw us into the process of change, to draw us towards peace with ourselves, peace with those we love and with those we hate, to draw us towards peace in the world, to draw us towards the peace of the kingdom of God. And that peace begins here.

A prayer by Thom Shuman, a prayer for peace:

“but you come”

if you came

with a fistful of anger,

who could endure?

but you come

with open hands,

eager to grasp our own

in love.

if you came

with the fire of judgment,

who could endure?

but you come

with the light of grace

to show us the way.

if you came

hardened against our sin,

who could endure?

but you come

holding us in your heart,

so we might have life,

if you came

bearing bad news,

we might be able to handle it . . .

but can we endure

the gift

of good news?

even so,

come, Lord Jesus,

come.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Hope - stars in the darkness

A reflection on Jeremiah 33:14-16; Luke 21:25-36: Sunday, 3 December 2006

Yesterday, I was reading the letters to the editor in The Weekend Australian magazine. A number of people had written responding to an article the previous week about global warming. I’ll share some of those responses with you in a moment, but first I want to point to a reality: the world is no longer the way it used to be. Global warming or climate change can no longer be denied. After years of fruitless attempts to share the bad news with us, the environmental scientists have finally been listened to. Is it too late? I don’t know; but I do know that things are looking pretty black for us, and things are looking pretty black for the world.

There is an ancient Persian saying: “When it is dark enough you can see the stars.” “When it is dark enough you can see the stars!”

Today is the first Sunday in Advent. Even though the shops have been telling us for weeks that Christmas is coming, today is the first Sunday that the church turns its eyes towards 25th December and begins to prepare for the coming of a baby.

But this morning’s readings are not about the coming baby. This morning’s readings are about the coming darkness. Our readings from Jeremiah and Luke are quite dark. And it isn’t just the readings that are dark. When we look at our world we also see much darkness.

Twenty centuries after Christ we still have wars, poverty and injustice. The world is still racked with violence, yet not destroyed. It is filled with destruction, yet not overcome. We live amidst injustice, poverty and prejudice, yet still there are signs of God’s kingdom, signs of hope.

And just as in the time of Jeremiah and in the time of Luke, we wait and we watch and we hope - for the light which Jesus will bring. For when it is dark enough we can see the stars - those little specks of light that bring hope. This first Sunday in Advent is the Sunday of hope. As Christians we are called to be people filled with hope.

Walter Brueggemann, the biblical scholar, tells us that Jeremiah was written while the Israelites lived in exile. He tells us that in exile they learnt some important things: They learnt how to express sadness, rage and loss. They learnt how to complain - not in a way which left them overwhelmed by the darkness. No. Their complaining was so that they could search for stars in the darkness. In exile they learnt how to face the darkness of their lives so that they could live in hope.

Sometimes it feels like we live in exile too. Family life, society, and the church are no longer what they used to be. The old ways are being dismantled and we are still waiting for the new ways to be birthed. At times like this we have three choices just as the Israelites of Jeremiah’s time had choices:

First, we can pretend it isn’t dark; we can go on pretending nothing has changed. But if we do this we will be left behind. The hope we have for the future will become less and less real and will no longer sustain us. Interestingly, there were letters yesterday crying out, “There’s nothing really wrong with the environment. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” It’s extraordinary the lengths people will go to, to pretend that the darkness is not real.

Second choice, we can focus on the darkness. Many people focus on the darkness of life. They keep picking at all the things that are wrong. They worry, they complain, they are negative, they become depressed and in the end they have no hope. They refuse to see the stars until, in the end, they are unable to see the stars. Again, yesterday’s letters illustrated this stance too: all is doom and gloom, global warming means the death of us and the death of the world. Darkness obscures the possibility of stars.

But there is a third choice: we can acknowledge the darkness and put our energy into searching for the stars. If we are willing to see the darkness in our lives and in the world then we can look for the stars. The stars are those points in our lives where we meet God. Those people and places that remind us that God is with us; that God will never leave us alone; that God’s ways of justice and faithfulness will come when we live lives of justice and faithfulness.

Last week, Joan was telling me about just such an event in her life and in the lives of some young refugees from Afghanistan. After a long period of time, two of their brothers arrived in Australia. After all of the struggles to convince the Australian government that their situation is one of genuine need, after all of the paperwork, all of the waiting, after many disappointments, light has shone in their darkness. There still is darkness, not just for this family with parents and a brother still in Afghanistan, still in great danger but also darkness for the millions of refugees around the world. But there are still stars that shine, to give hope to all those who wait in darkness.

As we prepare for Christmas we remember that each Advent, each coming, is a reminder to us of the hope we have because God chose to become human and live among us. Even in the darkness, or perhaps, because of the darkness, God chose to become one of us. God continues to choose today to love us, to forgive us, to invite us to journey into God’s future looking always for the stars – those signs of God’s presence with us.

Each Advent we are reminded of how God wants us to respond to the darkness within the world. We are to be the people who seek out the tiny lights of justice, and kindness, and loving, which are a part of life. We are to live in ways which make many more of these tiny lights until the darkness of our world is illuminated with the light of Christ.