Today’s Gospel reading (Luke 7:36 - 8:3) is a well known and oft heard reading. We know it all too well; the nasty Pharisee gets his comeuppance and the poor prostitute is vindicated. Once again Jesus saves the poor and downtrodden and puts the hypocrites in their place! Yay Jesus……. End of sermon and we all nod knowingly.
This scenario plays out in real life everyday, especially when we want to expose others as being worse than us. When someone is caught out in whatever manner, the media exposes it in such a way as to mark them as less tham those of us sitting on the sideline. In actual fact, we often find ourselves sitting on the couch, like the Pharisee, and saying, “I always knew they (she, he) was different to me. ” (Then, to ourselves, I am not like that)
Here we have an outsider, a prostitute whose business was such that she earned enough for expensive perfume (obviously not all the well-to-do Jews present were perfect!), she gatecrashes an invite only party (there would be no way she got an official invite given who she was).
On the couch is the Pharisee, a respectable religious and civic leader, who’s position and well-being was well earned and above reproach. Undoubtedly the other guests at the table were of a similar ilk, and regardless of their opinion of Jesus, he too was seen as a respectable, well-educated Jewish rabbi, otherwise he wouldn’t have been there.
Yet Jesus was a fool, a clown, in truth a Holy Fool – he was what he was but he was also not what he was. He saw the world through different eyes and held up to the world a mirror which said loudly and clearly, “See you self first!” He wasn’t the first nor the last such Holy Fool, the Old Testament and religious writings of other world faiths and philosophies are full of them. As are the histories of all traditions – Anglicanism has modern people such as Desmond Tutu, Catholic tradition has people like Mother Theresa, Buddhism the Dalai Lama and Thicht Nhat Hahn for example. And there are many more like them in Islam, Hinduism and other world faiths.
People who stand still, and without pointing, make their point. Our world needs to hear their stories to counteract the beigeness of thought, ideas and practice we so easily embrace from our popular media and information sources. Our world needs to hear this Gospel story again, remembering it is a foolish story, a mirror held up for all of us to see what we see in the mirror.
The Pharisee and his hospitality
The Pharisees were often found at dinner with Jesus. These dinners were normal social events for the entire community. Jewish society was and still is a communal society; the community shared their life and their table as a normal part of life. This wasn’t necessarily a way to show off, although I am sure that occurred, but it was accepted as normal to open your house to all those in your community. Although only invited guests ate, anyone was welcome to come and listen to the table conversation.
The Jews of the first century did not use tables and chair as the Persians did (cf. Esther 1:6; 7:8) and some Egyptians. Typically they would recline on their left elbow on pillows spread around horseshoe-shaped tables, usually three on a side. Uninvited guests stood around the walls behind the couches and listened to the conversation, gossiped or simply yawned as the conversation became mundane and boring.
We get a glimpse of Simon (a popular name) and his motivation for inviting Jesus when he says to himself: “If this man was a prophet”. His motivation for inviting Jesus may have been more for sport than intellectual stimulation, but he got more than he bargained for. Jesus later hints that he had noted this some time earlier, when the host had failed to provide the normal courtesies of foot washing, kiss of peace or any form of anointing. He knew he was being set up and the form of Simon’s musing shows that he did not believe Jesus was a prophet. This is a unique Greek construction which would be understood as “if this man were a prophet, which he is not, he would know who and what sort of person this woman is who is touching him, but he does not.” This Pharisee totally misunderstood Jesus and His motives, purposes, and actions.
The prostitute and the perfume
Somewhere on the streets the word had come down that a dinner was being held in Simon the Pharisees house and Jesus the Teacher would be present. For what ever reason this lady, described as a sinner by some and as a prostitute by others, got it into her head to be present and to do something, deemed by others to be at the very least eccentric, that would stop the conversation, although to her it seemed a natural thing to do.
She used her earnings, probably almost all of them to purchase an alabaster jar (the jar itself was significant) of perfume. She positioned herself at the back of the couch to the right of Jesus and when he was reclining his feet were right there in front of her. Impulsively perhaps, perhaps calculatingly she bent over, poured the ointment on his feet and wiped it with her hair.
Her motivation, we are not sure. It is more than showing up the Pharisee for his lack of hospitality, but that was part of it. It was more than love for a religious teacher, she saw more than that. She, in her own way, was a holy fool, providing the act which Jesus turned into an object lesson for all who were there, invited or not.
Jesus and his compassion
And then there was Jesus – deep and mystical – a true Holy Fool who grasped the opportunity when the gasping and gossiping had quietened down to tell a story, and to point Simon and his visitors toward the mirror. Did the young lady know of her sinfulness deeply or was it simply the rejection of society she felt? It doesn’t matter, for Jesus intimates that the societal view of sin was the problem and she, in a sacramental way, was showing and receiving love on their behalf.
This foolish woman stood in their place and showed what giving and receiving love was all about. And Jesus in that foolish compassion that was and is his alone, the foolish compassion which stopped the funeral bier in last Sunday’s reading, now rewards this sacramental act with love. He once again stands beside the outsiders and says directly to respectable society, ‘Here’s the mirror, have another look! What do you see now?”
Yes today’s reading is popular and well known, but it in no way a comfortable reading. It is designed, like all Jesus’ pericopes, to disturb. Mirrors usually do.
Showing posts with label Holy Fool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holy Fool. Show all posts
Monday, 14 June 2010
Wednesday, 29 July 2009
RedShoes & Thomas Merton
At the recent 11th International Thomas Merton Society Conference in Rochester USA a pair of Red Shoes from Down Under made a lot of noise and played, as all clowns do when they get the chance. And the conference was an ideal place to do that.
When the Red Shoes returned home they are often asked where they went and, when told ‘A conference on Thomas Merton’, the usual response is a blank look and, "Who?"
Red Shoes could say he was an American Trappist Monk who was born in Prades France in 1915 to Owen (a Kiwi artist) and Ruth (an American) Merton, that he entered Gethsemani Abbey in 1941 and died in Bangkok in 1968. I could, but that would be of little use to the reader who would still ask, "so who is he?"
It’s a question I would have asked up until about 7 years ago al. I had just returned from the wilderness of alcoholism and begun working at St Clements Stafford. Somewhere somebody suggested I ought to read Henri Nouwen and Thomas Merton. Coming from an evangelical background I had no idea who either were. I discovered Nouwen first.
I had some difficulty finding something of Mertons, and when I did, the array of titles was so enormous with over 100 publications and some 4,500 letters, probably qualifying him as the noisiest monk in history, I was unsure of where to start. I picked up the first of his journals (7 volumes) 'Run to the Mountain" covering the years 1939-41. And I was hooked. I devoured all seven volumes and the man I encountered was one whose faith and human experience I identified with.
Here was the clown, the Holy Fool I was looking for, someone who embodied in my lifetime the radical revolution who was Christ. This was no safe Gospel, no easy ride, no simple steps to salvation. This was life in the raw, lived and experienced by a man who endured the century into which I was born and lived in for some 13 years of my life. Not only was Merton real to me, he was real to the world in which I lived.
Because Merton lived in my lifetime and people who knew him are still alive, he has been spared the ignominy of being portrayed as asaint. He wasn’t. He was cheeky, cantankerous, compassionate, playful, petulant and so much more. He was human. He could be deeply insightful and sometimes superficial, full of charity towards the human spirit and frustrated by it, obedient to the Trappist and Catholic leadership and angry at it, he could be both optimistic and pessimistic, he could be dogmatic and, almost at the same time, change his mind. Yet he was obviously deeply in touch with Christ and the task of metanoia in both his own life and the life of the word.
His humanity attracted me. His spiritual journey began with him diving enthusiastically (a Merton trait) into the Trappist life, followed by a period in which his own personal awareness deepened through contemplation and solitude. In the 1950's, and continuing until his death, he engaged with the world outside the monastery walls on issues such as social justice, anti-war, ecumenism and interfaith dialogue.
His forays into writing, becoming a cloistered best selling author with his autobiography Seven Storey Mountain, his passion for solitude and contemplation that saw him spend the last 3 years of his life as a hermit, and his dialogue with Eastern and other religions at a time when ecumenism and interfaith dialogue was rare could be seen, and was, as foolishness.
So ‘who was Thomas Merton”? He was and is a Twentieth Century clown, a Holy Fool, someone who steps into the space-in-between and connects the extremes we all experience in life. Like Charlie Chaplin he exposes the absurdity in our sane and reasonable world, making nonsense out of our sense, showing us clearly that what divides us is not real, it is simply an illusion.
Merton challenges us to find the space-in-between where we can inhabit our own absurdity.
‘If there is hope anywhere, it lies somewhere in the middle between the two extremes (which in reality meet). The extremes are closer together than the “middle” which seems to be between them.”
When the Red Shoes returned home they are often asked where they went and, when told ‘A conference on Thomas Merton’, the usual response is a blank look and, "Who?"
Red Shoes could say he was an American Trappist Monk who was born in Prades France in 1915 to Owen (a Kiwi artist) and Ruth (an American) Merton, that he entered Gethsemani Abbey in 1941 and died in Bangkok in 1968. I could, but that would be of little use to the reader who would still ask, "so who is he?"
It’s a question I would have asked up until about 7 years ago al. I had just returned from the wilderness of alcoholism and begun working at St Clements Stafford. Somewhere somebody suggested I ought to read Henri Nouwen and Thomas Merton. Coming from an evangelical background I had no idea who either were. I discovered Nouwen first.
I had some difficulty finding something of Mertons, and when I did, the array of titles was so enormous with over 100 publications and some 4,500 letters, probably qualifying him as the noisiest monk in history, I was unsure of where to start. I picked up the first of his journals (7 volumes) 'Run to the Mountain" covering the years 1939-41. And I was hooked. I devoured all seven volumes and the man I encountered was one whose faith and human experience I identified with.
Here was the clown, the Holy Fool I was looking for, someone who embodied in my lifetime the radical revolution who was Christ. This was no safe Gospel, no easy ride, no simple steps to salvation. This was life in the raw, lived and experienced by a man who endured the century into which I was born and lived in for some 13 years of my life. Not only was Merton real to me, he was real to the world in which I lived.
Because Merton lived in my lifetime and people who knew him are still alive, he has been spared the ignominy of being portrayed as asaint. He wasn’t. He was cheeky, cantankerous, compassionate, playful, petulant and so much more. He was human. He could be deeply insightful and sometimes superficial, full of charity towards the human spirit and frustrated by it, obedient to the Trappist and Catholic leadership and angry at it, he could be both optimistic and pessimistic, he could be dogmatic and, almost at the same time, change his mind. Yet he was obviously deeply in touch with Christ and the task of metanoia in both his own life and the life of the word.
His humanity attracted me. His spiritual journey began with him diving enthusiastically (a Merton trait) into the Trappist life, followed by a period in which his own personal awareness deepened through contemplation and solitude. In the 1950's, and continuing until his death, he engaged with the world outside the monastery walls on issues such as social justice, anti-war, ecumenism and interfaith dialogue.
His forays into writing, becoming a cloistered best selling author with his autobiography Seven Storey Mountain, his passion for solitude and contemplation that saw him spend the last 3 years of his life as a hermit, and his dialogue with Eastern and other religions at a time when ecumenism and interfaith dialogue was rare could be seen, and was, as foolishness.
So ‘who was Thomas Merton”? He was and is a Twentieth Century clown, a Holy Fool, someone who steps into the space-in-between and connects the extremes we all experience in life. Like Charlie Chaplin he exposes the absurdity in our sane and reasonable world, making nonsense out of our sense, showing us clearly that what divides us is not real, it is simply an illusion.
Merton challenges us to find the space-in-between where we can inhabit our own absurdity.
‘If there is hope anywhere, it lies somewhere in the middle between the two extremes (which in reality meet). The extremes are closer together than the “middle” which seems to be between them.”
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
The World Needs More Holy Fools.
The world needs more holy fools - people who seem to be out of step with the rest of the world, eccentric and a little odd. Without them our world would just slide off into oblivion, unaware that the daly grind is just grinding it into nothingness. Holy Fools are the rocks that chip away at the 'biegeness' of life and call us back to reality, a reality that says that much of what I am doing is of little or no value. That in fact I take myself way to serious and actually think that what I do in my work a day grind matters. Yet Holy Fools know something else, they have an intuitive understanding about what truly matters.
Holy Fools say things like "Don't sweat the small stuff, it's all small stuff", "First things first", "Calendars are moral documents", "Irrelevance is a gift", "Smile and they will wonder what you're up to", "Play with others and great things will happen", "Be still, very very still, and above all else, don't wobble", "Love your neighbors as yourself", "Turn the other cheek" and loads more.
Holy Fools miss meetings to watch their kids play footy, recite poetry and act in the school play.
Holy Fools take time out to have coffee with their partners, buy some flowers to take home and to secretly order a subscription to their favorite magazine.
Holy Fools go home to sit with their parents, visit a sick mum or dad in hospital or just take them out of the nursing home for a day when responsible people would be at work.
Holy Fools find ways to combine work with their passion, practice non-violence wherever they are and know that the words "Federal budget" and "government policy" refer to a moral document that expresses the true nature of democracy as it is practiced by those elected to govern.
Holy Fools speak out for peace, ethical behavior and social justice even if it means looking like a fool.
Holy Fools know that it doesn't matter what others think about them, just what the man in the mirror thinks, what that moral compass at their core knows and what God, however they see the ground of the being, sees them.
I recently met a man who is a minder to many of the great superstars of music and movies who was asked to write a tell-all book. The contract was worth more than $1 million dollars. He said "No". Why? Because he said he would have to look his 11 year old son in the face and know that he had failed him for he would no longer be a man of integrity, and being a man of integrity was what he wanted his son to be and how could he if his father wasn't? Being a millionaire may have bought his son security but not integrity!
That's a Holy Fool!
Holy Fools say things like "Don't sweat the small stuff, it's all small stuff", "First things first", "Calendars are moral documents", "Irrelevance is a gift", "Smile and they will wonder what you're up to", "Play with others and great things will happen", "Be still, very very still, and above all else, don't wobble", "Love your neighbors as yourself", "Turn the other cheek" and loads more.
Holy Fools miss meetings to watch their kids play footy, recite poetry and act in the school play.
Holy Fools take time out to have coffee with their partners, buy some flowers to take home and to secretly order a subscription to their favorite magazine.
Holy Fools go home to sit with their parents, visit a sick mum or dad in hospital or just take them out of the nursing home for a day when responsible people would be at work.
Holy Fools find ways to combine work with their passion, practice non-violence wherever they are and know that the words "Federal budget" and "government policy" refer to a moral document that expresses the true nature of democracy as it is practiced by those elected to govern.
Holy Fools speak out for peace, ethical behavior and social justice even if it means looking like a fool.
Holy Fools know that it doesn't matter what others think about them, just what the man in the mirror thinks, what that moral compass at their core knows and what God, however they see the ground of the being, sees them.
I recently met a man who is a minder to many of the great superstars of music and movies who was asked to write a tell-all book. The contract was worth more than $1 million dollars. He said "No". Why? Because he said he would have to look his 11 year old son in the face and know that he had failed him for he would no longer be a man of integrity, and being a man of integrity was what he wanted his son to be and how could he if his father wasn't? Being a millionaire may have bought his son security but not integrity!
That's a Holy Fool!
Friday, 3 July 2009
Thomas Merton - Who Was He?
As some of you know I just returned from the 11th International Thomas Merton Society Conference in Rochester USA and the usual response when I say this is a blank look translated as "Who?"
I could say that he was an American Trappist Monk who was born in Prades France in 1915 to Owen (a Kiwi artist) and Ruth (an American) Merton, that he entered Gethsemani Abbey in 1941 and died in Bangkok in 1968. I could, but that would be of little use to the reader who would still ask "so, who is he?"
It’s a question I would have asked up until about 7 years ago, before I was introduced to him. I had just returned from the wilderness of alcoholism and began working at St Clements Anglican Church Stafford in Brisbane Australia. Somewhere in a conversation somebody suggested I might be interested in reading Henri Nouwen and Thomas Merton. Coming from an evangelical background I had no idea who either were. I found Nouwen first and found him easy to read and very accessible.
I had some difficulty finding something on Thomas Merton, and when I did, the array of titles was so enormous as there are over 100 publications and some 4,500 letters, which probably qualifies him as the noisiest monk in history, I was unsure of where to start.
I picked up the first of his journals (there are 7 volumes) 'Run to the Mountain" covering the years 1939-41. And I was hooked. I devoured all seven volumes and the man I found in there was one whose faith and human experience I identified with.
Here was the clown, the Holy Fool I was looking for, someone who embodied in my lifetime the radical revolution who was Christ. This was no safe Gospel, no easy ride, no simple steps to salvation. This was real life in the raw, lived and experienced by a man who endured the century in which I was born and lived in for some 45 years of my life. Not only was Merton real to me, he was real to the world in which I lived.
Because Merton lived in my lifetime and people who knew him are still alive (met several at the conference who were previously just names in Merton’s books), he has been spared the ignominy of being written as a perfect saint. He wasn’t. He was cheeky, cantankerous, compassionate, playful, petulant and so much more. He was human. He could be deeply insightful and sometimes superficial, full of charity towards the human spirit and frustrated by it, obedient to the Trappist and Catholic leadership and angry with it, he could be both optimistic and pessimistic, he could be dogmatic and, almost at the same time, change his mind. He was very human yet obviously deeply in touch with Christ and the task of metanoia in both his own life and the life of the word.
It is his humanity and his spiritual journey that appealed to me. His spiritual journey began with him diving enthusiastically (a Merton trait it seems) into the Trappist life, which was followed by a period of a deepening of his own personal awareness through contemplation and solitude and then, beginning in the 1950's and continuing until his death, a period of engagement with the world outside the monastery walls including social justice, anti-war, ecumenism, interfaith dialogue and his enthusiasm for Zen (much of his letter writing occurred in this period and included his dialogue with leaders and influential writers across a range of causes, religions and spiritualities).
William H Shannon, in his excellent publication An Introduction – Thomas Merton, recognises the qualities I discovered (and it seems many others do everyday as his popularity in both secular and religious bookshops, reading lists and universities has not decreased) and denotes them as ‘Merton’s themes’. While they are overt themes Merton dealt with in his writing they also identify the underlying quality of Thomas the person reflected in his writing, focus and appeal. Those themes are: his humanness, his ability to articulate the human condition, reverence for people, bursting the bonds of cultural limitation and spiritual director for the masses
For me these themes are the marks of the clown, the essence of the Holy Fool in Christian tradition and Merton, in all that he did and said, is situated within that tradition. The simple act of leaving a promising writing and academic career and the ‘good life’ (Conjectures of the Guilty Bystander 279) to disappear into the desert of the Monastic life follows in the steps of the Desert Fathers, the Russian yurodive and other Christian mystics who’s foolishness challenged the society they left behind.
His forays into writing and becoming a cloistered best selling author with his autobiography Seven Storey Mountain, his passion for solitude and contemplation that see him spend the last 3 years of his life as a hermit, and his dialogue with other religions at a time when ecumenism was not even a word of currency could be seen, and was by some at the time, as foolishness. His dialogue with Eastern and other religions and spiritualities was completely unconventional, particularly for a Trappist monk and hermit, and his involvement in the civil rights, peace and anti-war movements and his passion for non-violence set him apart. He reports that "I am told by a higher superior: 'It is not your place to write about nuclear war:that is for the bishops'". (Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander 296)
So how do we answer the question, ‘Who is Thomas Merton”? He is a Twentieth Century clown, a Holy Fool, someone who steps into the space-in-between and connects the extremes we all experience in life. Like Charlie Chaplin he exposes the absurdity in our sane and reasonable world, making nonsense out of our sense and showing us clearly that what divides us is not real, it is simply an illusion we have inhabited to fit in.
Merton never fitted in and challenges us to find the space-in-between where we can inhabit our own absurdity.
‘If there is hope anywhere, it lies somewhere in the middle between the two extremes (which in reality meet). The extremes are closer together than the “middle” which seems to be between them.” Thomas Merton (Echoing Silence 183)
I could say that he was an American Trappist Monk who was born in Prades France in 1915 to Owen (a Kiwi artist) and Ruth (an American) Merton, that he entered Gethsemani Abbey in 1941 and died in Bangkok in 1968. I could, but that would be of little use to the reader who would still ask "so, who is he?"
It’s a question I would have asked up until about 7 years ago, before I was introduced to him. I had just returned from the wilderness of alcoholism and began working at St Clements Anglican Church Stafford in Brisbane Australia. Somewhere in a conversation somebody suggested I might be interested in reading Henri Nouwen and Thomas Merton. Coming from an evangelical background I had no idea who either were. I found Nouwen first and found him easy to read and very accessible.
I had some difficulty finding something on Thomas Merton, and when I did, the array of titles was so enormous as there are over 100 publications and some 4,500 letters, which probably qualifies him as the noisiest monk in history, I was unsure of where to start.
I picked up the first of his journals (there are 7 volumes) 'Run to the Mountain" covering the years 1939-41. And I was hooked. I devoured all seven volumes and the man I found in there was one whose faith and human experience I identified with.
Here was the clown, the Holy Fool I was looking for, someone who embodied in my lifetime the radical revolution who was Christ. This was no safe Gospel, no easy ride, no simple steps to salvation. This was real life in the raw, lived and experienced by a man who endured the century in which I was born and lived in for some 45 years of my life. Not only was Merton real to me, he was real to the world in which I lived.
Because Merton lived in my lifetime and people who knew him are still alive (met several at the conference who were previously just names in Merton’s books), he has been spared the ignominy of being written as a perfect saint. He wasn’t. He was cheeky, cantankerous, compassionate, playful, petulant and so much more. He was human. He could be deeply insightful and sometimes superficial, full of charity towards the human spirit and frustrated by it, obedient to the Trappist and Catholic leadership and angry with it, he could be both optimistic and pessimistic, he could be dogmatic and, almost at the same time, change his mind. He was very human yet obviously deeply in touch with Christ and the task of metanoia in both his own life and the life of the word.
It is his humanity and his spiritual journey that appealed to me. His spiritual journey began with him diving enthusiastically (a Merton trait it seems) into the Trappist life, which was followed by a period of a deepening of his own personal awareness through contemplation and solitude and then, beginning in the 1950's and continuing until his death, a period of engagement with the world outside the monastery walls including social justice, anti-war, ecumenism, interfaith dialogue and his enthusiasm for Zen (much of his letter writing occurred in this period and included his dialogue with leaders and influential writers across a range of causes, religions and spiritualities).
William H Shannon, in his excellent publication An Introduction – Thomas Merton, recognises the qualities I discovered (and it seems many others do everyday as his popularity in both secular and religious bookshops, reading lists and universities has not decreased) and denotes them as ‘Merton’s themes’. While they are overt themes Merton dealt with in his writing they also identify the underlying quality of Thomas the person reflected in his writing, focus and appeal. Those themes are: his humanness, his ability to articulate the human condition, reverence for people, bursting the bonds of cultural limitation and spiritual director for the masses
For me these themes are the marks of the clown, the essence of the Holy Fool in Christian tradition and Merton, in all that he did and said, is situated within that tradition. The simple act of leaving a promising writing and academic career and the ‘good life’ (Conjectures of the Guilty Bystander 279) to disappear into the desert of the Monastic life follows in the steps of the Desert Fathers, the Russian yurodive and other Christian mystics who’s foolishness challenged the society they left behind.
His forays into writing and becoming a cloistered best selling author with his autobiography Seven Storey Mountain, his passion for solitude and contemplation that see him spend the last 3 years of his life as a hermit, and his dialogue with other religions at a time when ecumenism was not even a word of currency could be seen, and was by some at the time, as foolishness. His dialogue with Eastern and other religions and spiritualities was completely unconventional, particularly for a Trappist monk and hermit, and his involvement in the civil rights, peace and anti-war movements and his passion for non-violence set him apart. He reports that "I am told by a higher superior: 'It is not your place to write about nuclear war:that is for the bishops'". (Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander 296)
So how do we answer the question, ‘Who is Thomas Merton”? He is a Twentieth Century clown, a Holy Fool, someone who steps into the space-in-between and connects the extremes we all experience in life. Like Charlie Chaplin he exposes the absurdity in our sane and reasonable world, making nonsense out of our sense and showing us clearly that what divides us is not real, it is simply an illusion we have inhabited to fit in.
Merton never fitted in and challenges us to find the space-in-between where we can inhabit our own absurdity.
‘If there is hope anywhere, it lies somewhere in the middle between the two extremes (which in reality meet). The extremes are closer together than the “middle” which seems to be between them.” Thomas Merton (Echoing Silence 183)
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