Christmas: seeing the face of God

The Grade 1 children looked beautiful as they re-enacted the nativity play on Monday. 

I love this time of year. But I can’t help but wonder what is in the mind of others as they rush about in the busyness of Christmas. I wonder if they understand what this story is about: the fulfilment of a promise that was given thousands of years ago, about the God of our faith taking on human flesh, human nature – to walk with us in our weakness and strength, to be born, to live, to die, to hope and dream, to be hungry, exhausted, alone. Do they understand how this mystery of the incarnation is not a one and only event but a living experience in each of our lives, of how this single event becomes a moment at the fulcrum of history? Do they see the evidence in our world today of this grand visitation in our human story? Do they know of God’s love, his salvation?

There is a reason that we Christians have made the feast of Christmas such a huge celebration: it is because we share the deepest hope that the incarnation will transform who and what we are, so that we come to know a part of what God knows. Indeed Christmas is not only about the birth of Jesus, about God becoming human, but is equally about humanity, us, becoming divine. We gain an insight of what is possible for me, for you, for all humanity. So why would Christmas not leave us standing in awe?

My dream is that those children who played Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, angels and wise men will grow in understanding of who these characters are and what they represent to all of us. Mary, the instrument, the Amen of God’s becoming human; Joseph, the nurturer and protector who links the Davidic promise with Jesus; the shepherds, the poor (us) of the world who are invited into the new reality, the new kingdom; the angels: acknowledging the divinity of the newborn; and, the wise men who have read the ‘signs of the times’ and who have awaited the arrival of this child who heralds a new era.

Yes, let our Christmas trees be laden with decorations and gifts be piled beneath them. The responses on our children’s faces, the excitement, glee, amusement and joy are just minute snatches of what awaits us. To see them is to see the face of God.

From my heart I offer you the warmest of Christmas blessings. Enjoy, be safe and take care.

Clothed in Christ

There are times when the choices we have to make are just too hard. We call on our life experience, on the voices of our parents as they spin around in our heads; we weigh the impact of the decision on who it will impact; what will people think of me? Knowing that critical eyes are on us exacerbates the feeling that the way we make our choices is somehow faulty or less than adequate.

If your teenage and early adult years were to be re-run before you, I wonder whether you would cringe at the way you spoke to your parents, spoke about your teachers, perhaps you were the master of putdowns, maybe you excluded people from your group of friends. Did alcohol or drugs affect your relationships, your behaviour, your attitude? Were there things you said or did that have irreparably damaged you or your options for your future?

About 56 AD Paul wrote from Corinth to the Roman community. He reminded them that the ten commandments were summed up in the one, great commandment, You shall love your neighbour as yourself (13:9). Paul exhorted to choose good and to avoid harming their neighbours, to walk in the light and throw off ‘the works of darkness’.

And to do this, Paul’s advice is: Clothe yourself with the Lord Jesus Christ.

This really does mean that when you are struggling to make important decisions and weighing up your choices you can put on the mind of the Christ and be clothed in him, so that your decisions will be opportunities for growth. And even after all these years of fearing our pasts, being clothed in Christ is a step towards self-forgiveness and acceptance. That really was then, and this is now.

Jesus rules!

The last king under whose name Australians went to war was King George VI. George became king on the abdication of his elder brother, Edward VIII, later Duke of Windsor. George was Queen Elizabeth II’s father. Many are hopeful that Charles will succeed his mother (as Charles III or, apparently as he would allegedly prefer, George VII), and then be followed by his son, William (V). I have to admit that I’m a bit of a republican, and I my hope is that Elizabeth II will be our last monarch.

After the executions of England’s Charles I and France’s Louis XVI, it became evident that sovereignty was vested not in a singular person (sovereignty means ‘subject to no one’) but in the nation and the concept of divine kingship slowly but surely came to an end. Kingship was once the norm across Europe and in many other parts of the globe. It had its origins in small tribal groupings (and hence its relationship to the word ‘kin’). For thousands of years kings were not so much venerated for their status, but for their leadership in battle, the wisdom of their judgements and the integrity of their mercy. Kingship came late to Israel and was never a great success. There was always too much selfishness, greed, division and intrigue. David’s kingship, however much it was filled with such attributes, was seen as a highpoint in Israel’s history. David was indeed a successful commander and his constant failures appealed to those who saw him as very human. Yet it is this figure, David, who sets the mark. As Israel slowly disintegrated, they longed for a return to a Davidic kingship. The one who would bring Israel back from the brink would be a descendent of that same David. He would be a warrior-king.

In Daniel we again hear the prophecy: ‘And I saw … one like a son of man… On him was conferred sovereignty, glory and kingship, and all men of all peoples, nations and languages became his servants …(7:13-14).’ A king was expected, a mighty king indeed.

And yet, the disciples and evangelists saw Jesus, the son of Mary and (apparently) the builder’s son, as a king: To Pilate’s question: ‘Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus replies: ‘Yes, I am a king. I was born for this. I came into the world for this: to bear witness to the truth; and all who are on my side listen to my voice (John 18:33/37).’ Jesus’ kingship is not about politics, deception and scheming, but about his leadership in truth, the wisdom of his justice, the integrity of his mercy and love, his absolute faithfulness to his father and his disciples, his deep companionship and abiding presence in the Sacraments. Jesus’ response to Pilate could not be more truly said. His kingship is not of this world (the way we live now) and yet it is here among us (in what we do).

No. A Charles, George or William is not needed in my books. Australians have a firm indentity and we see our sovereignty firmly entrenched in our nationhood and democratic institutions. The image of Jesus as king may not fit our current political preferences, yet it is rich in tradition and imagery. When we open our hearts to him, we invite him to reign in our lives; his kingship becomes paralleled with our lived Christian experience. This Sunday is the feast of Christ the King, our parish ‘feast day’. Come worship the King!

Our inexhaustable comfort

May our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father who has given us his love and,

through his grace, such inexhaustible comfort and such sure hope, comfort you

and strengthen you in everything good that you do or say.

2 Thessalonians 2:16f

One of the latest idiocies is the publication of an article written for the local newspaper placed online before being printed, so that when the article is printed there are Facebook comments from the hoi polloi printed alongside it.  We had an example last year when our iPad program was lambasted as elitist and exclusive. Recently, a local college principal was taken to task by Facebookers on the demise of Leavers’ dinners for Year 10s. And last week, Archbishop Porteous wrote a byline for a Tasmanian newspaper on the contribution of Christianity to western civilization. The rancour expressed on the newspaper websites and Facebook was uncompromising. It is not so much the level of dissatisfaction or disenchantment they have with the church, but a clear statement of their total alienation from the church and all it stands for.

In the 2011 census 61% of Australians professed an affiliation with Christianity, while 22% reported they had no religious affiliation at all. It is not unreasonable to accept that the percentage of Christians will continue to plummet in the years to come. It has been happening slowly but surely for over 100 years in Australia.

It raises questions: ‘What is a Christian?’ ‘Who is a Christian?’ ‘What does a Christian believe and do?’ The catechism of the Catholic Church, launched by John Paul II in 1997, is based on the Apostles Creed and explores and defines the church’s teachings about the Christian faith and life. It is worthwhile recalling the words of the creed:

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth; I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, He was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended to the dead. On the third day He rose again. He ascended into Heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of Saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen

When we confess these words, it is an acknowledgement of what is at the very core of who we are and its strength lies in the extraordinary hope that its authors, our ancestors in faith, sought to ensure we understood.

My fear for those who have abandoned their faith or whose disillusionment with Christianity is a result of bitter experience, is that hope itself may be lost; that all that remains is just the present, the preservation of the earth for future generations; a total dying of self where I become just another biological being that is born, lives and dies in a cycle of life that has no consequence. It is not about ego, it is about purpose, about meaning – and this is what faith does.

What will our society of 2113 look like? Will be a society of rationalists, humanists? If this is what we want, we just need to keep doing what we’re doing already. If we want a Christian future, we need to make a difference right now.

The real surprise

‘Today salvation has come to this house, because this man too is a son of Abraham;

for the Son of Man has come to seek out and save what was lost.’

Luke 19:10

There are occasions when there are extraordinary reversals, when the anticipated outcome of a particular encounter is turned on its head. There is the element of surprise!

The Lucan story of Zacchaeus is one such story. The tax collector Zacchaeus joined the townspeople of Jericho to welcome Jesus. Being short, he couldn’t see him, so he ran ahead and climbed a tree. Jesus saw him and called out to him, ‘Zacchaeus, come down. Hurry, because I must stay at your house today.’ Zacchaeus welcomed Jesus and took him to his home while the crowd muttered about Jesus being hosted by a sinner. When Zacchaeus heard this he told Jesus that he would give half his wealth to the poor and for those he had cheated he would repay them four times what he took.

There are, in this story, a number of marvellous and clever reversals. Zacchaeus, the one most keen to see Jesus, is indeed a sinner, certainly for his contemporaries – after all he collected taxes for his Roman overlords. His lack of height meant he had to climb up to see Jesus, and it is he who looked down on him. And it is not Zacchaeus who invited Jesus to his home, Jesus invited himself. Now the one who was so honoured with providing hospitality is condemned by his neighbours. And so like many of the Gospel healing stories, the turn around is that the focus is not really on Zacchaeus but on the complaining townspeople – for it is they who have yet to be converted/healed/transformed. And so we ask ourselves, who is the story for?

In the end, the story is about you and me. Luke lets us know what it takes to be become a disciple: humility, acceptance of who I am, with all my faults and failings, but remaining open to Jesus in whatever way he comes to me and allowing him to make a home with me, to become an integral part of my life – and then ultimately, allow myself to be taken up and transformed so that my life mirrors the person of Jesus. I reconcile myself with my community and make amends.

But you and I are also those complaining townspeople, crying ‘What about me, it isn’t fair!’ We are very interested in what is happening, but we just can’t take the next step – letting go. It is so much easier to stand with the crowd and crow about those who are publically known sinners.

But the real surprise is this: Jesus chooses me and you and all we have to do is climb down from our tree and accept his invitation.

Perfect sacrifice

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My life is already being poured away as a libation, and the time has come for me to be gone.

I have fought the good fight to the end; I have run the race to the finish; I have kept the faith; all there is to come now is the crown of righteousness reserved for me, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give to me on that Day; and not only to me but to all those who have longed for his Appearing.

2 Timothy 4:6 - 8

There was once a time, in my memory, when anxious discussions on the rapid growth of secularism were held in our church communities. The anxiety related to the fear that the values that marked our Christian faith would be lost. Values related to knowing the person of Jesus, the sacredness of marriage, to honouring our ancient forms of worship, to respect for life itself from conception to death. I’m not referring to the clerical church that has so disappointed us, but to our mums and dads and grandparents and great-grandparents who built our churches and were our churches.

Suffice to say, that secularism we so feared has come to pass. The links we had with our past, with our history tenuously clinging to a perilous present, have left us struggling with relevance, purpose and meaning. We have become so inured to media-generated disasters that harangue and plague us through our television screens and to the pain of the generations of abused, alienated, disenfranchised fellow human beings, that we are able to disconnect ourselves from reality.

Paul’s letter to Timothy carries his exacting and powerful message about what a faithful life looks like and feels like. He challenges that disconnection. To be faithful is to place all you are and all you have into God’s hands, in order to be a perfect sacrifice or libation. The life of faith makes it possible to transform the ordinariness of our daily lives, into lives that proclaim the life and death of Jesus and helps reorder and reconnect us to the pain of others, so that we might be compassionate.

Not many I know want a return to the pious and devotional rituals of our forebears, but in our desire to make meaning of our lives we need to identify, acknowledge, give expression to, and celebrate new rituals and rediscover what really worked for past generations.

While we must live in the present, we need to keep our eyes on the horizon to the future and our ears firmly attending to the past. Life is worth fighting for, it is a race worth winning and for those who remain faithful there awaits a crown of righteousness.

The transformation can begin today. It begins with acknowledging the presence of God in your life, uttering words of thanksgiving, praise, seeking understanding, knowing him, loving him and living and working each day as if your life was already complete.

The Lord is close to the broken-hearted;

those whose spirit is crushed he will save.

The Lord ransoms the souls of his servants.

Those who hide in him shall not be condemned.

Psalm 32:23

Persistent prayer

I lift up my eyes to the mountains:

from where shall come my help?

My help shall come from the Lord

who made heaven and earth.

Psalm 120: 1-2

The myth that we are all equal before the law has long been debunked. We kid ourselves that our legislative and judicial systems have blind eyes when it comes to citizenship, gender, sexual preference, social status, education, upbringing and wealth. They don’t. Privilege given to any person or group is inequitable unless it addresses an imbalance or provides for support that will raise and enhance a person’s or group’s opportunities, protect the weak and vulnerable. There is a raft of anti-discrimination acts promulgated by commonwealth, state and territory legislatures that attempt to do so.

In Tasmania the sentence for Gunn’s John Gay for insider trading was $50,000. He sold $3.1 million of shares. The maximum sentence was a fine of $220,000 or 10 years imprisonment. A week before Gay was sentenced an Education Department employee in Hobart, Sandra Johnson, was jailed for four years for stealing $400,000 over a period of several years. Is justice blind?

Luke (18:1 – 8) tells the story of the widow who pesters an unjust judge until he relents in case she worries him to death. This is the story of a disempowered woman, of lowly status and of little income, who persists in seeking justice. It is her persistence that brings success. Jesus tells this parable to highlight ‘the need to pray continually and never lose heart’. This is ‘the cry of the poor (Proverbs 21:13)’. Before God we are indeed equal, though we are constantly assured that the poor, children, the disadvantaged, the dispossessed have a special place. It is quite imaginable to envisage this widow praying Psalm 120: who will help me? It will be the Lord. It is so much easier to give up, to accept less than what is right and just. Our persistence must be in both in prayer and action. The widow doesn’t just leave her prayer for justice before God, she is strengthened by and nourished by her prayer that propels her into action.

The psalmist’s beautiful trust in God is a constant reminder that in God’s eyes, we are all loved, no more and no less than one another. He is our guard and our protector when all around us desert us, or when human justice and compassion fail.

May he never allow you to stumble!

Let him sleep not, your guard.

No, he sleeps not nor slumbers,

Israel’s guard.

The Lord is your guard and your shade;

at your right side he stands.

By day the sun shall not smite you

nor the moon in the night.

Taking a break

I'm on a 12 week break, and consequently there will be no posts until early October.

Hospitality: The act of reciprocity

Stay in the same house, taking what food and drink they have to offer, for the labourer deserves his wages; do not move from house to house. Whenever you go into a town where they make you welcome, eat what is set before you. Cure those in it who are sick, and say,

 “The kingdom of God is very near to you.”

Luke 10:7 -9

The days when no one locked the back door, or front door for that matter and left their keys in the car, are well and truly gone. Having visitors turn up at any time was somewhat serendipitous, but providing drink and something to eat was essential. Not offering hospitality was considered ill- mannered and poor form. It still exists in some places, but turning up unannounced in the 21^st century is generally met with surprise and occasionally indignation – because our favourite programs are on the box, because we all have routines that we must keep to.

It is less surprising that when Luke is looking for images of the Kingdom of God, that he uses hospitality in the form of banquets, meals, invitations and welcomings. Indeed when those who preach the Gospel are welcomed into a new community, Jesus assures them that the kingdom is close at hand.

This is a real challenge to us in our busy lives – making ourselves available not only to friends and relatives, but remarkably to our own families – let alone to perfect strangers. We’ve all overheard or even used excuses for not visiting or to avoid having visitors as if opening our homes and offering hospitality is an invasion of privacy not an invitation to intimacy and deeper relationships.

Our words hospital, hospice, host  and hospitality are derived from the Latin hospes meaning both host and guest or stranger. This gives us an idea of what hospitality is, how it is an act of reciprocity – we are givers of hospitality and recipients of hospitality.

Luke is keenly aware that fellowship at the table, the sharing of meals is a particular moment of grace. It is in the making of companions (companion means one who breaks bread with another) that grows out of eating together, sharing stories, dreams and visions that unveils hospitality’s deeper purpose: remembering and reliving. It is something we do each day around the family table, ordering our responses according a rubric that scaffolds our love and friendship in our stories which draw concern, approval and advice, and we in turn listen and give of ourselves in return. This is holy, sacred time. It is here just as in our churches that God is truly present, he is indeed near.

Bringing our friends and perfect strangers to our table, into our homes, to begin new memories and to link with ever deeper common stories is the very reason we must break out of the chains of our 21^st century culture and be nothing less than hospitable.

What matters most

Another to whom he said, ‘Follow me,’ replied, ‘Let me go and bury my father first.’

But he answered, ‘Leave the dead to bury their dead;

 your duty is to go and spread the news of the kingdom of God.’

Luke 9:59 - 60

Texan pastor and former South American missionary Max Lucado is renowned as memorable preacher, and the following is a powerful example of his preaching (and one of his many quotable quotes):

When you are in the final days of your life, what will you want? Will you hug that college degree in the walnut frame? Will you ask to be carried to the garage so you can sit in your car? Will you find comfort in rereading your financial statement? Of course not. What will matter then will be people. If relationships matter most then, shouldn’t they matter most now?

[Max Lucado (2007) Building a Godly home, p.44]

There’s no doubt that we need to be clear about what our priorities in life are. Jesus’ words challenge us: is there a real intention to desert your bereaved family so that you go and proclaim the Good News? The allusion to the calling of Elisha (1 Kings 19:19f) gives us a clue: Elisha does go back, slaughters his oxen, burns his plough, cooked the beasts and fed his people and then followed Elijah. So the point is that we must follow through our intentions with actions. Just do it!

Lucado reminds us with equal clarity that what is most important in life are our relationships, not the things that appear to occupy our lives, by their acquisition, maintenance, or improvement. Yes, we ought return to say our goodbyes to our families before we go off to seek our fortunes, but we ought not ever forget those who nourish our days, who bring us joy, who celebrate our being.

Take up your cross and follow me

‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine,

let him renounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me.

For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it;

but anyone who loses his life for my sake, that man will save it.’

Luke 9:23 – 24

Perhaps it’s a paradox or a conundrum, but Luke’s Jesus cleverly juxtaposes his words. Clever or not it is a key to discipleship.

Few of my heroes are great public figures. My heroes are drawn from the brave, the amazing, the miraculous everyday men and women who we are likely to meet in the street on any given day. Sometimes we don’t even recognize this kind of hero until it’s too late. My brother Richard was one of these. He was the father of 12 beautiful kids, a grandfather, a husband. The last 30 years of his life was a gift to his family but also a gift to his community of faith, his church. We all knew of his commitment, what we didn’t know was the level of that commitment and the impact that he had on so many people. We – his brothers and sisters – didn’t know, well, because we didn’t notice, we didn’t ask.  And that’s the kind of hero who makes our world a better place. Those he encountered had an attentive ear, a humble word of advice and a great deal of love, all given freely and with empathy.

When we speak of being transformed, it is the effect of a life-changing experience. For the Christian it begins with an encounter with the person of Jesus, most often revealed through relationships in which generous self-giving mirrors the action of Jesus. In time we develop a personal relationship through the various and many encounters with goodness, with hope, with compassion, with love. We enrich it in prayer, reflection, meditation and by responding to the needs of those who meet, and reaching beyond the immediacy of my friends and family by becoming a true neighbour.

This transformation is often named as metanoia (change of heart) or conversion, resurrection (into a new life), the fullness of life, or kingdom of God.

I am deeply privileged to have known my brother. His fidelity and courage have been an encounter for me with the person of Jesus, have opened even wider the door to the fuller life to which I am called. Take a good look at the heroes in your life. They may well be the face of Jesus.

Don’t be afraid to be open to the possibilities that these encounters will bring you.