The Little Ones
When we refer to 'the little ones' we are usually referring to children in an affectionate way. However, we live in a world where we do not always care for 'the little ones' or respect their rights and the vulnerable position they are in when dependent on adults to protect them. This week I was shocked to see in the news the arrest of an eight year old girl who had seemingly been ordered to detonate a bomb in her backpack amidst a crowd of people. On the ABC television programme 'Am I normal' I was also shocked to see a man who confessed to being a paedophile talk of children aged eight having the right to be in a sexual relationship with an adult.
When Jesus refers to his disciples (grown ups) as 'the little ones' he is describing the vulnerable position they are in when they take the gospel to the villages and towns of Israel. They go not like soldiers, crusading, forcing, inflicting, or demanding their equipment to be carried a mile as the Roman soldiers did, nor do they go like religious leaders insisting respect for their position in society. They go like children, little ones, helpless, homeless, dependent on those who would welcome them with some food, or shelter, or clothing, or even a cup of water. Their lack of being equipped for the journey caused them to be dependent on the kindness of those they met on the way. "Take no gold, or silver, or copper... no bag for the journey, or two tunics, or sandals or a staff... (Matthew 10:9)"
At the core of this passage is not the message of an individually driven Christianity, one that promises reward for the individual, but a message that says that the central purpose of those who follow Jesus is that of looking after people. At the centre of both emerging and progressive theologies is the view that Christianity is firstly something that is lived, the theology is but a description of it. The disciples like Jesus went about the country firstly living their faith, and this dependence on others, this vulnerability, was not only something that was lived, it also spoke more than words could say: that power and position are laid aside when following the teaching and person of Jesus. So often we seek a position of power and authority from which we can influence the world, a position from which we can teach and preach. Jesus seems to send us out as 'little ones' identifying with people who are poor and helpless, calling up for mercy and kindness to be shown.
I view many of the sayings of Jesus as hyperbole. Jesus greatly exaggerates to make a point. In calling the disciples 'little ones', Jesus is indeed exaggerating to make a point. Will we hear the words of Jesus? Will we be willing to be considered 'little ones'?
Friday, June 24, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Matthew 28:16-20
The placing of Trinity Sunday after Pentecost Sunday in the church calendar always seems strange to me. Pentecost celebrates the life Jesus lived now beginning its journey, travelling through the lives of his followers throughout the world. Pentecost speaks of freedom, liberation, creativity, wonder, colour, joy, diversity, transformation, renewal, grace, forgiveness, peace. It is contagious, inebriating, overwhelming, carried by the winds, free, flowing, turning the world upside down, lifting up the down trodden, passionate and so much more. Trinity comes like applying the brakes full on. "Hang on before you go further you need sound doctrine. When you baptise, when you explain this pentecostal wonder and it's connection to baptism, explain that it is baptism in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."
This 'trinitarian' formula seems out of place here in Matthew's Gospel. Neither Mark not Luke have it in their Gospels. It seems from the book of Acts that people were baptised in the name of Jesus only (Acts 10:48; 19:5). Could it have been inserted at a later date? Could it be that the formula was inserted back into the Gospel by the early church rather than the Gospel giving the formula in the first place? Why?
Unless the words 'in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit' are used at baptism, some Christian denominations will not accept that a baptism has been properly administered and a person will not be accepted as part of that denomination.
The formula is used to distinguish which God is being spoken about and the appropriate way or what is considered the orthodox way for Christians to think of God. Why limit the words in the baptismal formula to these words, why not baptise 'in the name of the father and of the Son and of the Holy spirit, and of love and forgiveness and grace' and so on? It seems a bit strange to build a whole doctrine based on one verse of scripture and then pin one's life to it or use it as a dividing point rather than an including point. I think it very important that the church today emphasises inclusion, what we share in common, a common experience, an experience of Jesus, a common concern for the world, rather than emphasising difference and therefore exclusion.
In the wider scheme of things surely it is not the formula that is most important but the experience, the discipleship. The love of God, the love of the world, the discipleship comes first and then trying to make sense of the believing.
Do I spend too much time trying to figure out the theology? Would my life be fuller, richer, more meaningful, more helpful to others and this world in which I live by spending more of my time living the life that Jesus speaks, that which we name as discipleship?
This 'trinitarian' formula seems out of place here in Matthew's Gospel. Neither Mark not Luke have it in their Gospels. It seems from the book of Acts that people were baptised in the name of Jesus only (Acts 10:48; 19:5). Could it have been inserted at a later date? Could it be that the formula was inserted back into the Gospel by the early church rather than the Gospel giving the formula in the first place? Why?
Unless the words 'in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit' are used at baptism, some Christian denominations will not accept that a baptism has been properly administered and a person will not be accepted as part of that denomination.
The formula is used to distinguish which God is being spoken about and the appropriate way or what is considered the orthodox way for Christians to think of God. Why limit the words in the baptismal formula to these words, why not baptise 'in the name of the father and of the Son and of the Holy spirit, and of love and forgiveness and grace' and so on? It seems a bit strange to build a whole doctrine based on one verse of scripture and then pin one's life to it or use it as a dividing point rather than an including point. I think it very important that the church today emphasises inclusion, what we share in common, a common experience, an experience of Jesus, a common concern for the world, rather than emphasising difference and therefore exclusion.
In the wider scheme of things surely it is not the formula that is most important but the experience, the discipleship. The love of God, the love of the world, the discipleship comes first and then trying to make sense of the believing.
Do I spend too much time trying to figure out the theology? Would my life be fuller, richer, more meaningful, more helpful to others and this world in which I live by spending more of my time living the life that Jesus speaks, that which we name as discipleship?
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Luke 24:13-25
I smile every time I read the story of the two disciples walking with a stranger on the road to Emmaus. I smile because after all their time with Jesus it seems that not only did they not recognise him they didn't know much 'sound' theology either. But they had learnt something and that was about hospitality, about welcoming the stranger. They had experienced hospitality during their time spent with Jesus travelling amongst strangers and being strangers to others; being welcomed by tax collectors and 'sinners'. Hospitality and the welcome of the stranger, the traveller, the alien can be found in religion throughout the world. It was not in the words of explanation that they recognised Jesus but he was made known to them in the breaking of bread. Jesus is not to be found in unique beliefs about him but in the everyday, the ordinary: the sharing of food, the sharing of life, the making of love. If there is a uniqueness about Jesus it is in how he makes life liveable. I guess this is why he said I have come that you might have life, and have it to the full.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
John 4:5-42
John 4:5-42
What a great passage this is about crossing religious, cultural and gender boundaries and making of them a non issue. Jesus knows a lot about this particular woman. He lets her know what he knows about her religion and her personal life but just because he knows it he doesn't condemn her or point it out to gain some superior moral or religious position over her. She is known deeply by Jesus but Jesus doesn't use this knowledge to further oppress her. Perhaps she was known in the town as a woman of ill repute, or as we might say today, a slut or one of many words men often use to put a woman down. Words which we could use to show our moral superiority over such a woman. Jesus knows of her sexual reputation but that is not an issue to him, at least not enough of an issue to condemn her for. There is no mention of sin, just an offer of eternal life. Jesus doesn't drain the life out of her instead his words fill her to overflowing with hope and possibilities. Could this be the Christ?
The kind of response we might have expected from the town could have been, "Who do you think you are with your immoral life? We already know who you are. We don't need any stranger telling us who you are and what you have done. We know it only too well." Instead, the response is overwhelmingly positive. The woman believes in Jesus and so does the whole town. The people come flooding out to meet Jesus, a Jew, a stranger, another man, and they welcome him to stay in their town.
The offer of eternal life is quite extraordinary and the response is extraordinary too. Here is a picture of people of a diluted heretical religion, people with suspect theology and practices, welcoming the message of Jesus with an incredible thirst for pure spirit and truth. The message of Jesus is always life giving, life enhancing. Could this be the Christ? Are we offering spirit and truth, or perhaps more importantly are we ourselves drinking of the eternal life, the spirit and truth that Jesus brings to us and this world; a spirit and truth that prevents us from seeing anyone else as lesser than ourselves, because of their gender, religion or culture?
What a great passage this is about crossing religious, cultural and gender boundaries and making of them a non issue. Jesus knows a lot about this particular woman. He lets her know what he knows about her religion and her personal life but just because he knows it he doesn't condemn her or point it out to gain some superior moral or religious position over her. She is known deeply by Jesus but Jesus doesn't use this knowledge to further oppress her. Perhaps she was known in the town as a woman of ill repute, or as we might say today, a slut or one of many words men often use to put a woman down. Words which we could use to show our moral superiority over such a woman. Jesus knows of her sexual reputation but that is not an issue to him, at least not enough of an issue to condemn her for. There is no mention of sin, just an offer of eternal life. Jesus doesn't drain the life out of her instead his words fill her to overflowing with hope and possibilities. Could this be the Christ?
The kind of response we might have expected from the town could have been, "Who do you think you are with your immoral life? We already know who you are. We don't need any stranger telling us who you are and what you have done. We know it only too well." Instead, the response is overwhelmingly positive. The woman believes in Jesus and so does the whole town. The people come flooding out to meet Jesus, a Jew, a stranger, another man, and they welcome him to stay in their town.
The offer of eternal life is quite extraordinary and the response is extraordinary too. Here is a picture of people of a diluted heretical religion, people with suspect theology and practices, welcoming the message of Jesus with an incredible thirst for pure spirit and truth. The message of Jesus is always life giving, life enhancing. Could this be the Christ? Are we offering spirit and truth, or perhaps more importantly are we ourselves drinking of the eternal life, the spirit and truth that Jesus brings to us and this world; a spirit and truth that prevents us from seeing anyone else as lesser than ourselves, because of their gender, religion or culture?
Friday, March 18, 2011
John 3:1-17
John 3:1-17 Nicodemus comes out
For Nicodemus to be born again he had to first sneak out at night under the cover of darkness to consult with the very one who was being critical of Nicodemus's own religious beliefs. Even more than this, Nicodemus was 'Israel's teacher' and Jesus was challenging all that Nicodemus had ever taught, all that he stood for, all that he was. Nicodemus finally comes out as a follower of Jesus by accompanying Joseph of Arimathea to bury Jesus after he was crucified. It is not just a matter of disposing the body as quickly and discreetly as possible, Nicodemus brings with him a very large amount of spices with which to wrap Jesus' body. He undoubtedly had a great love for Jesus as well as respect for him and his teaching. He had in his own life stepped out from the old and embraced the new life of the Spirit that Jesus spoke of.
Our religion can become a burden to us and we as preachers and teachers can inflict that burden on others. Jesus says,"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit." Jesus offers a spirituality of the Spirit, a breath of fresh air in the lives of individuals and the mighty winds of change in society, a transforming presence to change the world. Nicodemus no doubt heard the wind of the Spirit, it took him out at night, he felt it, it moved him, it opened him up to new possibilities and he was touched by the words of Jesus. Religion can be like a two edged Sword, it can help protect but also cut us in pieces. It can give us security, a world view, hope and a path to follow but it can also trap us, keep us from going that extra mile of discovery. I am not sure why we humans like the safety of our religions, with their laws, rules and regulations and why we prefer to hide behind them rather than to come out and expose ourselves to the light of honest truth and to the fresh winds of the Spirit which may carry us away to new depths and breadths of discovering the eternal life of which Jesus spoke. Sometimes that coming out at night, is a long gestation period, a struggle, a time in the wilderness, a lenten period, before the light dawns anew upon us and upon the world and we are born anew.
For Nicodemus to be born again he had to first sneak out at night under the cover of darkness to consult with the very one who was being critical of Nicodemus's own religious beliefs. Even more than this, Nicodemus was 'Israel's teacher' and Jesus was challenging all that Nicodemus had ever taught, all that he stood for, all that he was. Nicodemus finally comes out as a follower of Jesus by accompanying Joseph of Arimathea to bury Jesus after he was crucified. It is not just a matter of disposing the body as quickly and discreetly as possible, Nicodemus brings with him a very large amount of spices with which to wrap Jesus' body. He undoubtedly had a great love for Jesus as well as respect for him and his teaching. He had in his own life stepped out from the old and embraced the new life of the Spirit that Jesus spoke of.
Our religion can become a burden to us and we as preachers and teachers can inflict that burden on others. Jesus says,"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit." Jesus offers a spirituality of the Spirit, a breath of fresh air in the lives of individuals and the mighty winds of change in society, a transforming presence to change the world. Nicodemus no doubt heard the wind of the Spirit, it took him out at night, he felt it, it moved him, it opened him up to new possibilities and he was touched by the words of Jesus. Religion can be like a two edged Sword, it can help protect but also cut us in pieces. It can give us security, a world view, hope and a path to follow but it can also trap us, keep us from going that extra mile of discovery. I am not sure why we humans like the safety of our religions, with their laws, rules and regulations and why we prefer to hide behind them rather than to come out and expose ourselves to the light of honest truth and to the fresh winds of the Spirit which may carry us away to new depths and breadths of discovering the eternal life of which Jesus spoke. Sometimes that coming out at night, is a long gestation period, a struggle, a time in the wilderness, a lenten period, before the light dawns anew upon us and upon the world and we are born anew.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Matthew 4:1-11
Then the the Devil took Jesus to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in all their greatness. "All this I will give you," the Devil said, "if you kneel down and worship me."
All over the world people are trying to seize power or retain control by whatever means they can. Libya is the country most in the spotlight at the moment. How many people will die in this struggle? How many will be maimed for life? How many will be forced to flee their homes and end up as refugees and for how long?
In our political systems, in our churches, in our work places we see people trying to seize power so that they can rule. We see power struggles all around us. What if we were given it on a plate, without cost to us, without the need to cheat or malign the other?
Jesus is taken to the very top, a very high mountain, where he can look out on all the surrounding kingdoms and he is offered it on a plate, without a struggle, without blood shed. Jesus turns the offer down. Would we have turned it down? Do we turn it down when offered to us in the same way? For a start it wasn't the Devil's to offer anyway, although at times it may seem like the world is under the control of some evil influence. The earth belongs to all the people or rather all the people on earth belong to the earth. From the earth we are born and to the earth we return at death. It is ours to share, to enjoy, to care for and to pass on to future generations. The earth nor anyone on it is ours to possess, to do with as we will, to exploit or abuse.
Jesus doesn't take power, or control, in the way that we like to do, from a position of power and influence. Actually, I don't think he does take power, not over people anyway. Jesus' agenda is not about possession, or about control but about releasing us from our desires to control the other, from our desires to rule over others. The way Jesus does it is by giving of himself freely and lovingly even to death. His way to up is down. His blood shed instead of the blood of others. There is no running over the top of others, no subjugating the beliefs of others to our beliefs, no enforcing of doctrines and dogma, rather he issues an invitation to follow a different way, the way of Jesus. When we look at how we operate in the church are we taking the way of Jesus or are we trying to get our way at all costs? Are we taking short cuts to the top? Do we take the hand of nepotism and therefore run over the rights of equal access? Do we take the safe track turning our eyes from unjust practices?
Lent is known as a time of giving up. How about giving up power or giving away power, for example the need to control our partner, or the need to control the church, or the need to control the people in our particular country?
All over the world people are trying to seize power or retain control by whatever means they can. Libya is the country most in the spotlight at the moment. How many people will die in this struggle? How many will be maimed for life? How many will be forced to flee their homes and end up as refugees and for how long?
In our political systems, in our churches, in our work places we see people trying to seize power so that they can rule. We see power struggles all around us. What if we were given it on a plate, without cost to us, without the need to cheat or malign the other?
Jesus is taken to the very top, a very high mountain, where he can look out on all the surrounding kingdoms and he is offered it on a plate, without a struggle, without blood shed. Jesus turns the offer down. Would we have turned it down? Do we turn it down when offered to us in the same way? For a start it wasn't the Devil's to offer anyway, although at times it may seem like the world is under the control of some evil influence. The earth belongs to all the people or rather all the people on earth belong to the earth. From the earth we are born and to the earth we return at death. It is ours to share, to enjoy, to care for and to pass on to future generations. The earth nor anyone on it is ours to possess, to do with as we will, to exploit or abuse.
Jesus doesn't take power, or control, in the way that we like to do, from a position of power and influence. Actually, I don't think he does take power, not over people anyway. Jesus' agenda is not about possession, or about control but about releasing us from our desires to control the other, from our desires to rule over others. The way Jesus does it is by giving of himself freely and lovingly even to death. His way to up is down. His blood shed instead of the blood of others. There is no running over the top of others, no subjugating the beliefs of others to our beliefs, no enforcing of doctrines and dogma, rather he issues an invitation to follow a different way, the way of Jesus. When we look at how we operate in the church are we taking the way of Jesus or are we trying to get our way at all costs? Are we taking short cuts to the top? Do we take the hand of nepotism and therefore run over the rights of equal access? Do we take the safe track turning our eyes from unjust practices?
Lent is known as a time of giving up. How about giving up power or giving away power, for example the need to control our partner, or the need to control the church, or the need to control the people in our particular country?
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Matthew 17:1-9
Matthew 17:1-9
This is one passage that comes around every year in the Revised Common Lectionary and one that does not exactly thrill me. I am not really into other worldly ecstatic spiritual experiences because I think there is so much to do in this world to make it a better place, so I find reading the account of Jesus and his disciples up a high mountain, alone, away from daily life a bit challenging. It is not Jesus' face shining like the sun or his clothes dazzling white, or the appearance of Moses and Elijah or the bright cloud that grabs my attention, but the words, "This is my son, the beloved, with whom I am very pleased, listen to him!"
These were the words that Jesus heard at his baptism, that he was very much loved and that God was very pleased with him. The disciples would have heard this too and Peter recalls it in his letter (2 Peter 1:17). The account is known as the Transfiguration. Transfiguration is about change, changing form, about being transformed. If we want to see this world change, if we want to see this world being transformed from a place of violence and injustice and inequity this passage says something to us about listening, really listening to the words of Jesus, one whose life was grounded in the knowledge that God was very pleased with him and that God loved him dearly, and one whose life was lived in this love. So pause and listen for the love in his words, in his words that brought about transformation in people's lives. Let these words transform us and continue to transform us. For me it is love that can really change people, love can transform anyone.
This is one passage that comes around every year in the Revised Common Lectionary and one that does not exactly thrill me. I am not really into other worldly ecstatic spiritual experiences because I think there is so much to do in this world to make it a better place, so I find reading the account of Jesus and his disciples up a high mountain, alone, away from daily life a bit challenging. It is not Jesus' face shining like the sun or his clothes dazzling white, or the appearance of Moses and Elijah or the bright cloud that grabs my attention, but the words, "This is my son, the beloved, with whom I am very pleased, listen to him!"
These were the words that Jesus heard at his baptism, that he was very much loved and that God was very pleased with him. The disciples would have heard this too and Peter recalls it in his letter (2 Peter 1:17). The account is known as the Transfiguration. Transfiguration is about change, changing form, about being transformed. If we want to see this world change, if we want to see this world being transformed from a place of violence and injustice and inequity this passage says something to us about listening, really listening to the words of Jesus, one whose life was grounded in the knowledge that God was very pleased with him and that God loved him dearly, and one whose life was lived in this love. So pause and listen for the love in his words, in his words that brought about transformation in people's lives. Let these words transform us and continue to transform us. For me it is love that can really change people, love can transform anyone.
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