White Australia and the Fear of Protectionism - Election 2016

Luke 10:1-20

On our holiday in Port Fairy I stumbled across some interesting finds in an antique store in town. I picked up this official publication, “Australia – Official Handbook’, 1947. The preface  reads as follows:

 

“This book, telling the story of Australia in all of its aspects, is published by the Australian National Publicity Association, a non-profit organisation, controlled by an Honorary Board representing the Australian Railways, Overseas Shipping Lines, General Australian Business interests and the Commonwealth Government.

 

The aim of the Association is to promote knowledge of Australia in overseas countries, to which end this and other publications are issued.

 

The Australian Handbook is commended to people of other lands who might be interested, and to Australians themselves, who will find it a suitable publication to mail to their friends and business associates abroad.”

 

It provides a wide range of details and interesting data on Australia in 1947. One interesting paragraph is entitled: “White Australia”.  It states: “To the principle of “White Australia” all political parties in the Commonwealth subscribe, for the economic reason that the white man’s standard of living would be endangered by the introduction of coloured labourers who would be prepared to accept wages and live under conditions that are not acceptable to a white workman. Were coloured labour unrestricted, the ultimate result would be that the white workman in Australia would be forced out of employment by the cheap labour, with a consequent dislocation of the national life. Thus the immigration laws are so designed as to exclude coloured people from permanent residence in Australia.’

 

Not a lot has changed, except now it is refugees who are kept out of our country and our jobs are exported to those we made laws to keep out of ours. Protectionism, the desire to hold onto something by denying others the opportunity to share our good fortune has a habit of biting back. The thing we so desperately desire to keep for ourselves has a way of dying or escaping, leaving us without what we coveted for ourselves.

 

The recent referendum in England could be described as an attempt to hold on to or regain something the country never had, not of itself anyway. Much of its remembered wealth and power came from resource rich countries it conquered, controlled and pillaged. For many who voted to leave it could be seen as an attempt to maintain a fast receding quality of life and deny the possibilities of a life to others. How much of the voting in this country reflects similar desperation and fear? Stop the boats, keep our jobs and maintain our personal lifestyle of entitlement, travel and comfort that is all we seem to desire. Even people who belong to the kingdom not of this world, Christians, seem to adhere to such ideology.

 

Jesus sends out the 70. Two by two they go. They appear to be going out on a short term mission into the world, they are not going to stay, they are going to model a lifestyle and faith completely at odds with the worlds expectations. They are to take very little and accept very little in return for their efforts. Although Jesus says the labourer is worth the hire; a bed, bath and a meal seems to be the wages they were to receive. They aren’t to be choosy, moving to get a better bed, meet a better cook or have a spa bath! They go simply and are expected to be comfortable with enough.

 

Mark Davis suggests that "The response to the scarcity (and danger) of workers is for the seventy-two to go out with their own scarcity and vulnerability – in total dependence on others for food, shelter, drink and protection."

 

Jesus is given the words: “Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves.” Lambs have no means of repulsing the wolves. They are helpless and vulnerable. All they have is the mob they belong to and an ewe who will do everything to protect them. Yet for neither the lamb or the disciples there is no comfort or comfortableness, no assurance all will be well, no promise of an abundance of the good things of life. Jesus suggests they will be provided with what they need, and no more.

How far have we moved from this ideal of Jesus! The politics of nationalism has placed the protection of what we have now at the centre of all debate. The idea of the redistribution of wealth so that all may live seems to have escaped us or disturbed us so much that we cling desperately to what we perceive to be ours. This applies not just to money our resources, but to our time, talents and community. It belongs to me and I will decide who, what or when I engage. God is lucky to have me on his/her side and therefore he better get used to the fact I will only give, do, share what I decide. Thats why we decide who comes to our country, who is welcome and what I do for God.

The 70 are modelling a radically different understanding of life:

The mission of the church is to be their/our life. In this story we see the integration of mission and life. Our personal life is not a separate entity in which we make time for God’s mission in the world. Sunday worship, a bit of social justice here, a meditation there; God’s mission in the world is to be our life. All that we do, our work our investments, our leisure time, our money and our talents are to be employed in the fulfilment of God’s mission in the world through the church. We do not have the luxury of making choices that do not have as their first priority: how will this further God’s kingdom in the world? It is not easy and Jesus is aware of this but reminds us it is not about us and our comfort and security, it is bigger than that: “Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”

The mission of inclusion is the central point of their being sent out, to bring others in and to share out of their poverty what others need. If people welcome you, include them; hospitality and openness is all that is needed to fulfil the mission. They spend no time planning, getting the logistics in place, setting up places to care for, educate or counsel people. They simply go as they are and find that in the doing and living the needs of both themselves and others are meant. This is not about scarcity of welcoming other, the fear that there will not be enough, but about the abundance that occurs when people open out, become expansive and believe in the possibility of enough.

The sufficiency of enough is to be experienced to be trusted. Jesus reminds them they do not need the things of the world in the way others do, building up security through power and wealth. This is a mission aimed at breaking the power of commercialism and tyranny that was and is rampant across theirs and our world. The modelling of sufficiency or enough is counter-cultural and a stark reminder that those who die with the most still die.  There will always be enough if you do not go looking for more. Stay in the first place that welcomes and don’t move if a better offer comes up. Respect the possibilities you find and live out your mission from a place of enough.

Friday I enjoyed the best Vietnamese street food at the restaurant at the Melbourne Botanical Gardens and purchased some exquisite indigenous merchandise. I was reminded of the gifts those who came by boat (the Vietnamese refugees) and those who were here since time began have given us and celebrated the wonder of diversity and inclusion. The same arguments were heard in relation to the boat people escaping Vietnam as we are hearing today, yet 40 years on our society is enriched by their culture, food and even by a State Governor who came by boat. There is always enough and more.

God is bigger than our needs.  The challenge for the parish, the church and this country following yesterday’s election is to become open hearted, open-minded and open-handed and welcoming of all. Until we are able to do that we are not fulfilling the mission of God witnessed in Christ. 

Doubting Thomas - Living in a Blurred World.

John 20:19-31

Today’s Gospel recounts the story of Thomas, known popularly, although not accurately, as Doubting Thomas. Whatever the origins of this story, it is both a challenging and hopeful story, one which asks some important questions and leaves the door chocked open by the naked doubt of Thomas. 

Michael Palmer suggests, "The rise of Donald Trump in American politics speaks to the depth and influential nature of our national and international fear. We're a people afraid, and that fear has trapped us. Like the disciples in those early moments after Jesus' death, we've locked ourselves in an upper room, waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Like the disciples who locked themselves away in fear of reprisals and the unwanted knock on the door, western society is in the midst of a similar phenomenon. The daily reports of violent actions by extremists such as the bombing of the Easter festivities in a park in Pakistan or the recent bombings in Yemen, Istanbul and Brussels fill us full of fear. The reports of violence in suburbs just like ours here in Melbourne cause us to double lock doors and think twice about going certain places at certain times. As for the church, clergy are now questioning the practice of wearing clergy collars when they are just ducking down the street in case people respond inappropriately to them.

Fear of others and doubts about our place in the world is indeed trapping us and keeping us reticent and impotent. How do we react in a world gone mad (if it has indeed gone mad)? How do we live out our convictions and faith in a world that appears to be hostile and dismissive? Do we lock ourselves away and become a hidden sect, secretive but safe?

In some sense that is what the disciples were doing. They were going for safety first. Even the occasion of Jesus revealing himself as being alive and present didn’t reassure them. Yes, they had seen Jesus but he had (apparently) to walk though a locked door. When he left the door remained locked. There was no surge of confidence and hope to drive them out into the streets. They remained where they were, out of sight and out of danger.

Thomas on the other hand wasn’t in the room with them. He hadn’t gone for the safety in numbers or in hiding idea. We don’t know where he was, he may have been back home, thinking about what had happened and getting on with life. There is no suggestion he was less fearful or less conscious of the risks he faced, yet he got on with life.

When told about Jesus being ‘alive’ he responded in a pragmatic and logical manner. There had been many stories and rumours going around. They started on Easter morning when the women went to the tomb and found it empty. Then Peter and the other disciple had a look and the rumours abounded. Not too much the gossip afoot in the general populace. For Thomas, perhaps, there was just too much variation in the story, too much too be asked to believe with it any evidence.

It wasn’t doubt in the sense he dismissed it out of hand, but a doubt needing experience to substantiate and verify.

That’s understandable, isn’t it? People tell you how great abseiling, bungee jumping, the Grand Canyon, Alaska or Victoria Falls, Sea World, Dream World or Movie World is but you will always have doubts its quite as good as they say it is until you go. You have to experience it for yourself.

Thomas is no different. He wasn’t there the first time Jesus appeared and there was just too much to believe without something to make it real. In any case, God came in the form of Jesus to experience life and all its challenges so that we could be understood and given the opportunity to experience what God is like. 

Nancy Rockwell writes "Thomas is a Greek name, and it means twin, though his twin, if he had one, never appears, and some suggest we are, each of us, his twin."

An interesting thought but one worth pondering in a number of ways:

How is what we believe influenced by our experience? We often speak as if we all believe the same thing and we all understand God and the Bible and faith in its purest and true form. Yet is it so? Or do we look at God and the Bible and our faith through the filter of our own personal experience? Are we not influenced by what we know, knowing by the experience we have lived though underpinned by our understanding?

People often say I don’t believe in God. I ask them to draw me a picture of the God they don’t believe in. Without question they draw a God I don’t believe in but when we start to discuss that drawing we uncover experiences that have given birth to such an understanding – Sunday School teaching, the disconnect between what a significant other has said they believed and what they did, treatment at the hands of religious people, violence in the world or the death of innocents – have all come together to give birth to the God they draw.

People of faith, you and I are no different. We say we believe in an unadulterated form and think we have it correct but what we know believe is the product of our life experiences as well as the religious teaching we have received in whatever form that comes. Like Thomas, there will be times when what we have experienced is forgotten and we get caught up in life and our lives, other things become more important. And that’s ok. 

In the midst of life there will be moments bringing us back to  the faith we affirm  and evaluate it against our experience and begin to refine it so that it is real for us. This won’t be a faith separate from the community, for as Thomas found out, he shares the experience of Jesus with others, in his case the disciples, in our case, the church. 

Thomas was no denier of the faith, simply one who had to experience it for him-self. In so doing he verified the truth of Jesus and went on to live out his faith in the world, although we know little about how he did that. 

Today, we are asked to live with what we don’t know and what seems beyond us, our doubts and to reflect on experiences, allowing them to lead us deep into the mystery of faith. Amen. 

Epiphany

Matthew 2:1-12

 

Over Christmas we have been reading Luke’s gentle rendition of the Jesus story. Today we step into the adult’s only version of the story as told by Matthew. We leave behind the all-inclusive family photograph of Luke and find ourselves immersed in the violence and noise of the real world.

 

David Lose, writes: "And that is what is at the heart of Matthew’s darker, more adult-oriented story of Jesus’ birth: the promise that it is precisely this world that God came to, this people so mastered by fear that we often do the unthinkable to each other and ourselves that God loves, this gaping need that we have and bear that God remedies."

 

Fear sits at the centre of this story. Herod rules and acts out of fear, the fear that someone somewhere is plotting to take away what he believes is his – the kingdom over which he ruled with fear. He had many good reasons to fear others, everybody from the Romans, his brothers and his political enemies. There were plots and subplots on the go all around him all the time. He was aware of the chatter about the Messiah, the long expected king of the Jews who would regain the autonomy of the Jews at his expense.

 

Herod was no dummy. He had done his homework. He knew the details about this King. In his discussion with the visiting dignitaries from the east, Davis notes, "Hearing that a 'child king of the Jews' is being born, Herod inquires among the religious scholars where 'the Christ' is being born. It is Herod, in this story, who makes the connection between a child king and the Christ." He is fully aware what the story is about and is proactive, wanting to nip it in the bud long before it gets out of hand.

 

It is interesting that Matthew uses the visiting philosophers as the means for Herod to find out about Jesus. It is always interesting how much tyrants, despots and governments do not know about what is going on under their watch despite the intricate intelligent networks they may put in place. Jesus had been born some months before the eastern travellers arrive. If the Gospel writers are to be believed there had been some out of the ordinary activity on or about the day of his birth which, one would have thought, would not have gone unnoticed by Herod’s underlings or Roman informants. The census was a major political undertaking. All security precautions would have been in place. People would have been watching for the unusual. Yet they missed the birth of the Christ child, the single greatest threat to Herod’s reign.

 

It reminds me of the stunt pulled by ‘The Chasers’ tv team in 2007 at APEC in Sydney. ‘The Chasers gang made a mockery of security at the APEC conference held in September in Sydney Australia, and left Aussie police red faced. One hundred and sixty million dollars was spent on security for the conference attended by many world leaders, including the US President, but the Chasers gang in a fake motorcade with joke 'insecurity' badges and a Bin Laden look alike drove to within metres of George W Bush's hotel, but could have driven right to the hotel, as they were not stopped at any security checkpoints.’

We live in a world ruled by fear and the desire for safety and security. We allow governments to plunder our privacy and our rights with draconian laws and security measures out of fear. Fear is not life giving. It simply takes away the possibility of life for all. The measures we give away our freedom to do not ensure safety or security. They simply short circuit life.

 

The three wise men follow a star, across many borders into a foreign land. Theirs is a journey of hope and possibility tinged by some anxious moments at border crossings, on the road and more. They had divined, imagined, the future in the star or the comet and set out to find the child born to be king. They had studied the meaning of the star and the hope of Israel and were able to join the dots as to the coinciding importance of the event. They stepped out in faith and took the risks necessary to know for themselves the truth of the story.

 

When they arrived at the home where Mary, Joseph and Jesus were, they were filled with joy. What they had imagined as possible was indeed true. What they had studied as the hope of Israel was present in the world and the world would not be the same again. Joy, not happiness was theirs, that quiet, deep sense of all is right with the world overcame them and left them assured, not only in terms of their foreseen truth but of the truth of prophecy and hope. At that moment they saw the future more clearly than everbefore and went home, like the shepherds on Christmas day, rejoicing at what they had experienced.

 

On this Epiphany Sunday may we see through the fear drummed up for us by governments and the media,the ‘awful-isers’ as Michael Leunig calls them. May we begin to see as the foreigners were able to see, God shining above the world and the child king, the Anointed, loose in our world in the lives of the innocent, those who do not look like us, those from foreign lands, those who are immigrants and refugees, those without homes or jobs and those who simply are amongst us as neighbours and fellow travellers.

 

May we see God shining out through the world in every creature abounding in nature, the resources we have to care for and share.

 

May we overcome our fear of losing what we have, and unlike Herod, take steps to share what we have with others in the innocence of childlikeness. May we walk in the footsteps of a God who gave up all to become a small vulnerable child in a violent world, without fear of losing the divine identity, full of the joy of being human. Amen

 

This Is Not The End!

Mark 13.1-8

Noticed a cartoon recently with a man dressed in alternative clothing standing on a street corner with a sign that read, “The end” and underneath it “is not near”.

How easy is it for us to read the newspapers, watch the evening news, listen to the talk back radio shock jocks and politicians, and conclude that, in fact, the end is not just near but has already begun. Perhaps it has already occurred.

The streets seem less safe, the values we have lived by have all but disappeared and the institutions we have come to trust and disappearing all around us, including the church. The church is significant as it has been the custodian of stability, morals education and intricately connected to the fabric of government and economic life. This has and is changing faster than we would like.

We would like things to stay the same. We have liked what we had and we don’t want it to lose our position and our place in society either as a church or vicariously as a member of the church.

Yet our understanding of what ‘the same’ is, is often inaccurate and biased by where we live, who we few up with and the archetypal stories that are dominant in our domain. We want Australian values to remain and fear the changes seeming to be occur in our society, challenging what we believe the past was like. Very rarely does the past and our interpretation of it come together seamlessly.

One of the medias present fears is the refugees who appear to be introducing Islam into our nominally Christian society. Did you know that Islam in Australia pre-dates European settlement? From 1650, Muslim fisherman from South East Asia communicated and traded with Aborigines from Australia's north. Some inter-marriage occurred. In the 1860s, some 3000 camel drivers - with camels - came from Afghanistan and the Indian sub-continent contributing to the exploration of the Australian outback, working on both the railway line between Port Augusta and Alice Springs, and the Overland Telegraph Line from Adelaide to Darwin, which connected Australia to London via India. 

 

What we fear is the threat to our way of life is often not the real threat. The real threat is fear itself. It undermines relationships, casts suspicion on the innocent and brings about rifts in our society where there is no valid reason for divisions to occur.

 

Jesus points to the temple, the second temple built by Herod and an extremely impressive temple it was, and predicts its collapse, an unthinkable thought for those whose lives were intricately entwined in its existence. Herod's Temple was one of the larger construction projects of the 1st century BCE.

The old temple built by Zerubbabel was replaced by a magnificent edifice. An agreement was made between Herod and the Jewish religious authorities: the sacrificial rituals, called offerings, were to be continued unabated for the entire time of construction, and the Temple itself would be constructed by the priests. Later the Exodus 30:13 sanctuary shekel was reinstituted to support the temple as the temple tax. This was the background to the Widows Mite we read about in last weeks Gospel.

The Temple Mount was originally intended to be 1600 feet wide by 900 feet broad by 9 stories high, with walls up to 16 feet thick, but had never been finished. To complete it, a trench was dug around the mountain, and huge stone "bricks" were laid. Some of these weighed well over 100 tons, the largest measuring 44.6 feet by 11 feet by 16.5 feet and weighing approximately 567 to 628 tons, while most were in the range of 2.5 by 3.5 by 15 feet (approximately 28 tons).

How could such a building simply be torn down with no stone left in place? Impossible. The temple was not just important for Jewish worship but was a symbol of the symbiotic relationship between the Romans and the Jewish temple elite. They believed that while ever they allowed Rome to levy taxes and to benefit from the trade in and around the Temple, they could get on with their lives without risk of persecution. It was their insurance against devastation. It didn’t work. As we know in 70 CE the temple was destroyed, never to be rebuilt.

Jesus understood something others failed to see. There comes a time when political expediency requires a change of direction, old ties are cut and new ones commenced. Whatever relationship the Jewish authorities had with those in power would last only as long as it was of value to those in power. When it was not useful any more, it would cease. And it did.

A problem for the Anglican church in Australia has been its privileged position in the English hierarchy and that we are primarily a white Anglo-Saxon church. We came out with the first fleet and were tired directly to those in power. We had our position because of who we were a part of – the English authorities. We lived in and off that position even when the political and demographic landscape changed.

And we didn’t see the changes coming, which would move us from the centre of society and its decision making to the edges. We are now a church in exile. Due to the changing demographic and political landscape, the rise of secularism, the move towards radical inclusivity in terms of relationships for example, we are marginalised.

For example, a story in the Age and the SMH had the following headline on Tuesday:

A controversial religious instruction program is being taught at preschool

Special religious instruction has been scrapped from school classes in Victoria, but a major provider of the controversial program is now entering a new market: childcare.

The state's largest SRI provider, Access Ministries, is offering a religious instruction program called Explore Christianity, at Emmanuel Early Learning in Endeavour Hills.

The weekly half-hour session at Emmanuel Early Learning is run by two accredited volunteers, and is based on the school SRI program.

It teaches Christian values and beliefs, in addition to stories from the Bible.

In an email exchange with the author of that report, it was noted, and I quote:"The circumstances around the program over the past few years make it controversial. The content itself has been controversial in the past, although I don't believe it is now."

As we stand in front of St Paul’s cathedral or even out the front here we can echo the words of incredulity of those listening to Jesus. We cannot believe what we have built may, one day, exist no more. But Jesus says this is not the end, that is yet to come. Tough times are here but life is possible and a life that recognises and worships God is available to us if we partake in tearing down what we built and build something new.

 

I would suggest that Jesus was alluding to more than the bricks and mortar, but to the accommodation the Temple leaders had made to remain within the governing power base. The church today has been moved out of the centre of political and moral life and has the amazing opportunity to reinvent itself in the image of God, as the true voice of God, uninhibited by the restrictions of political expediency necessary to survive at that level.

 

Living in exile gives us permission to rethink what faith and religion looks like to abandon the assumptions that bound us to power and to reposition ourselves as prophetic, mystical and proactive in terms of social justice, inclusivity and hospitality. We no longer have to ensure we are speaking with the same voice as those in power, politically or economically. We can speak of and for God. We can, for possibly the first time, embrace and practice the companionship of empowerment.

 

For the early Christians, this was their strength. They were not implicated in the power structures of their time. They were free to be true to the Gospel and were unafraid of the consequences.

 

The challenge for our church, at all levels, is to recognise the crumbling remains of past glories and to embrace the freedom of exile. I would like to finish with two quotes from the movie, “The Best Exoctic Marigold Hotel”. The first comes from Judi Dench’s character  Evelyn who says: “There is no past that we can bring back by longing for it. Only a present that builds and creates itself as the past withdraws.” The second, and where I will finish, comes from the ever positive Sonny: “Everything will be alright in the end….if it’s not alright, it’s not the end.” Amen 

Complacency & Fear - The Saboteurs of Action

Mark 9:38-50

⁴⁹“For everyone will be salted with fire. ⁵⁰Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”

 

***********************

 

How easy is it to slip into that place where we settle for less or where we avoid thinking or talking about the glaringly obvious until it is almost too late? As we saw in last weeks sermon, the first world has become comfortable with the violence being unleashed on many through out the world and only acting when it is almost too late to do anything constructive about the problem.  Climate change, refugees from war zones and places of internal unrest, domestic violence and more only exercise our imaginations when we are forced to deal with the thousands on our boarders, as is the case in Europe.

 

We always believe, ‘She’ll be right, mate”.

 

We have become  immune to what is happening providing it is not disturbing our piece of mind or preventing us from doing the things we like. It is indeed all about us.

 

Pope Francis is a very salty Pope. He rubs salt into the wounds of society so that society becomes conscious of its in built complacency and is forced to act.  It has little to do with politics and a lot to do with the Christian ethos of loving God and loving self. Of being so in tune with the God within that we live out in a way that seasons the world. The Pope does that. Recently he has taken 2 refugee families into Vatican housing. The cynics might say there is room in St Peter’s for a lot more but the fact is that they are there at his invitation. The Archbishop of Canterbury is also opening the doors of Lambeth Castle for refugees. Here are two men putting their faith where their mouth is.

 

And this is the point. Jesus says you need to put your faith where your mouth is. You need to be the difference, the flavouring, the change in the world. You need to do so, so that this world can live in peace.

 

What stops us from doing so? Complacency. She’ll be alright, somebody else will do it. Or it’s ok they (the government, the church, the wardens, the vicar) will make sure we have what we need to survive. William Loader suggests, "It is not so much that salt ceases to be salt but it becomes contaminated by additions over time, dirt, stones, etc, so that it becomes useless. He (Jesus) links salt with peace. In the context salt is an image of integrity and wholeness."

 

The contaminating additions include a sense of impotence (I am only one person, what can I do?), a sense of entitlement (it has always been this way so it will always be this way), an attitude of blame (well, if only they had listened to me we would not be in this situation or it’s all the government, church, wardens or vicars fault) or perhaps it is that we are ensconced in our own world and just let things go by. It is easy to find ourselves here, and on reflection, there is possibly a little bit of this in most of us.

 

This is not just the case for individuals but also for institutions. We become comfortable with who we are, who we spend time with, and with the way things are. It is been this way for sometime and we think it will remain this way for ever. Institutional church is finding it difficult to maintain its place in the world because the world has changed and it has not. The once prominent position churches such the Anglican and Catholic church once had as the setters and regulators of standards of morality and community is a thing of the past. We now are just one voice amongst many.

 

Our buildings are rarely used outside Sundays, except to make money to keep the doors open for Sunday; where once there were large numbers in both church and Sunday school, now there is but a remnant remaining. Many new approaches have been tried but in a world where choice is just another personal choice option they lose out to entertainment, sport, leisure and catching up on the house work.

 

It is interesting Jesus doesn’t condemn the options, the good options available. He says to not condemn those that do good things which reflect my teachings and principles. If what is happening builds community, restores life and empowers others, then it is to be applauded. Our problem is that it is out side the building and structures we have built for the purpose of worshipping and serving God. We are trapped, as the disciples were in the ‘our way or the highway’ exclusivity. We have ownership of the doing of good deeds and they either must stop or join us in the in-crowd.

 

Charlotte Elia writes, "This text invites communities to identify the self-constructed stumbling blocks that prevent flourishing. In other words, are there subtle ways in which the church sabotages its own ministries?"

 

It is not like we are doing no thing about it. We have tried a range of strategies and have more in place, but they seem not to be having the effect we want. We are not growing or changing. This is a difficult place to be and it asks hard questions of us who find ourselves in this place, such as:

• What is our vision for our church? Is it here to look after my spiritual needs or is it the missionary extension of Christ active in the world?
• Why do we come to church and what is my purpose for being here?
• Are we stuck in the ‘that’s the way we have always done it here’ syndrome, or ‘the we tried that once and it didn’t work’ excuse for not trying something new, or the sense that we have been here or apart of one or more activities longer enough to believe we own that part of the church and can act as gatekeeper to any change mooted?
• How have we reached out to bring others in or are we afraid they will not like what we have or that they will change what we have?
• Has our giving kept up with the need? Are we fully aware of the finances needed to fund the vision of the church as outlined in our strategic plan, in our case the Mission Action Plan, and understand that this may ask us to become more involved financially than previously?

 

While societies, governments and churches often want to change situations they often sabotage the attempts because they fear what that change will require of them. Complacency and fear prevents us from taking the initiative and salting our world, our community, our church. Our answers to the questions I posed will be an indicator of just how far people will go to put their faith where their mouth is.

 

St Oswald’s is at an interesting stage in its life as a church. We are getting less in numbers, we want to grow, we are doing lots of new things but we need to be doing more if we are to survive into the future. Without more people we simply will not have the resources to be God’s missionary church in the world. Without sufficient funds we will not be able to reach out effectively to invite new people in. The challenge we have to take up is how do we do both? How do we underpin the Mission Action Plan with sufficient resources to bring new people into our church? Our present level of giving simply doesn’t do that and we may have to revisit our giving. Besides, we are not a rich parish with endless reserves.

 

Jesus asks us to explore the hard questions, to maintain our faith, our saltiness in such a way that we will be exemplars of hope and change. He is not talking academically or hypothetically but practically. Our complacency and fear can rise up against us: she’ll be right mate, it’s ok the way it is; or we can dig deep in to the saltiness of our lives and give more, do more, take risks and step out to be the person, the people the church we are called to be.

 

Jesus, as always, doesn’t mince his words, the future of the world and the church is up to us. We can not outsource it ‘them’. Amen. 

Sea Fever

Sea Fever

(John Masefield)

(Mark 4:35-41)

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

 

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

John Masefield went to sea on tall ships at the age of 15. He fell in love with the sea and reflects in this poem on his experiences and longing to return. Yet he concludes his poem with the desire to complete his journey and when it is over to enjoy the afterlife.

Masefield’s poem likens life to a sea journey, a wild journey that is untameable by ordinary means. He seeks the wind and the spray in his face, both dangerous and life-giving. He knows life will not be an easy journey, but completed in the company of others it is more than bearable.

Mark takes us on a similar journey in today’s Gospel. Jesus goes down to the sea in a boat, a small fishing vessel with minimum sail, an experienced crew and a small following flotilla. They venture out into the deep and open themselves up to the wildness of the sea, the most unpredictable and treacherous of the natural elements.

Sea is used throughout the Bible to signify fear and mystery. It is approached with fear and trembling by most books in the Bible.

Right at the beginning of the Book of Genesis we read: “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, ²the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” The sea and God are connected. It is primal, there at the beginning. It’s primitive and untamed nature invokes fear, not only in sailors but in the psyche of

the human being.

In the book of Daniel we read: “I, Daniel, saw in my vision by night the four winds of heaven stirring up the great sea, ³and four great beasts came up out of the sea, different from one another.”

Psalm 107 gives a similar story as Masefield: “³Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the mighty waters; they saw the deeds of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea.”

Then we have Paul being thrown overboard by his shipmates because they thought he was responsible for the storm threatening their lives.

Jesus goes to sleep on the cushion at the rear of the boat. Right near where the rudder was and where one would normally find the skipper of the boat. From there you chart the course, monitor the wind and manage the sails and the boats’ safety.

This is also where the water would pool. It is normally the lowest point of the boat and any water that came on board would run and pool at the feet of those sitting here. If the boat was filling with water, so were your shoes.

Mark suggests Jesus, by his position on the boat, was in charge, and  the crew complains he is asleep at the wheel! Asleep his feet were out of the water, next to him on the cushion. To them he appeared to be totally neglecting his responsibilities, asleep at the wheel and out of harms way.

There are consequences for skippers and their passengers when they are asleep at the wheel. The skipper of the Costa Concordia has been charged with neglect of duty for allowing his ship to run aground and causing the loss of 32 lives. The most famous of all was the wreck of the Titanic.

Mark uses this fear of the sea and it’s inherent fury to demonstrate the divinity of Jesus, that not only did he have the power to heal and cast out demons, but he had the authority to calm the wildest and most unpredictable of the elements. His authoritative teaching was matched by his ability to manage the created world. Miracles may or may not be factual events and I question whether it matters if they are. They are parabolic stories with meaning for those with insight.

When woken Jesus deals with the problem. Taking control, he shows that he is in charge and can deal with the terrifying. ‘Peace, be still” is a Biblical call for faith and centred-ness, or as we might say, mindfulness. As the Egyptians closed in on the Israelites at the edge of the Red Sea, God reminds them that “The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep still.”(Exodus 14:14)

Is the ‘peace be still’ aimed at the sea or at them? Is the fact he is awake and present to them sufficient for them to change from fear to a sense all will be well? Is Jesus suggesting fear, doubt, worry comes from within, not from without?  The storm is not the problem. It is what we make of the storm that is.

As he swings back into the role of the skipper, the man in charge, all becomes manageable.  Did the storm immediately stop? Perhaps not. Perhaps what happened was that they now had a leader, someone they knew who was capable of leading them through what had seemed to be the end for them.

‘Peace’, be calm, let go of fear, look rationally and logically at this situation. Did you really think you were going to die? Where was your faith in yourselves and the experience you have had of God’s involvement in your lives? Why did you abandon what you and your people have experienced time after time?

‘Be still’, stop, slow down, take a good long deep breath and put your self back in control. It is no accident that one of the things we do to calm people down is to help them get control of their breath. Jesus say be still, all will be well. You are with me and with my Father and we have given you plenty of examples of our power and compassion and we will remain present.

Jesus shows his power and authority to the disciples and the flotilla of little boats and asks that we too ‘Be still’ and trust when the greatest of ill winds unsettle and threaten to sink our little boat. William Loader reminds us: "(We) know what it is like to be buffeted. (We) know what it is like to have no control. (We) know situations where only the divine can intervene."

The church in the 21^st century seems to be in die straits. Reputation is under threat; numbers are dropping at a remarkable rate so much so that the churches in England is predicted to be empty by 2050, or there abouts; the challenge to the traditional view of marriage and sexuality; and more. As we look about us here we see the challenges we have to face and could be overcome by anxiety about our existence and our relevance.

The storm is calmed and now the hard work begins for those with him, the hard work of practicing the presence and power of Christ in the ordinary events of everyday. Who is at the wheel of our boat, and if it is God, how reliable is God?

We know from experience God is not asleep. This is God’s church and God will steer it through the storms we appear to be facing. We are not alone. Like the Israelites at the Red Sea and the disciples in the little boat we are to be still, take a deep breath and look around and see the possibilities of the Spirit.

Brian Stoffregen writes: "While we may pray that Jesus would work miracles in our lives and in our world and in our neighbourhoods; the miracles that come probably won't let us off the hook from doing some of the hard work required to do what Jesus has called us to do."

Are we ready to be still and work hard to bring in the kingdom of God? AMEN