On The Mountain Top

Matthew 17:1-9

When I was growing up on the farm I learnt early that various farmers had daily practices that they did regardless of what was happening around them. I also understood that while these practices were not the practice of every farmer they each did something similar.

 

When I was with my Uncle Wally I learnt that after lunch was siesta time. We would lay down on the ground or the back verandah of the house and put our feet up higher than our head and go to sleep. It must have been a funny site with a man 6 foot tall surrounded by boys under 10 stretched out with their feet up on the log, hats over the eyes, arms crossed on the chest asleep, or at least pretending to be.

 

My uncles Alec and Alex didn't rest, they boiled the billy and had a cuppa and you just sat, didn’t talk and sipped your tea with your hat cutting the sun out of your eyes. This happened at least 3 times a day and, if there were machine or stock problems, you did it more often as you worked out the problem.

 

Peoples meditative practices are different but they are their own and they speak to the circumstances and experiences of life they shared with others. Jesus had a a spiritual practice that had little to do with the temple worship or liturgy, yet it was the vital rhythm of his life and he shared it with his disciples, his students.  They were used to this practice which is mentioned and alluded to again and again in the Gospels – Jesus went aside to pray and he sent his disciples away to do the same.  In these moments Jesus clarified his identity, his purpose and his intentions.

 

These weren’t moments of lightness and happiness, a mindfulness deigned for the 21^st century cult of the individual, but moments of great and disturbing challenge. His time in the desert after his baptism was not a time of beer and skittles, he was forced to confront his basic nature and find ways to seek wholeness through obedience to his inner urge for justice, compassion and respect for all, his commitment to the evolution of all creation to fullness.

 

Here on the mountain with his three chosen students it happens again. They go away at a critical time in his self-awareness and the developing trajectory of his life’s journey into confrontation with the power elites in his world. Together they share a deep spiritual experience. While the transformation, or as Thomas More a student of Merton's calls it, metamorphosis, is experienced physically by Jesus, it is shared with the disciples who were there.

 

This is important. We often decry the disciples for their seeming inability to get what is happening, yet the truth is they were deeply spiritual men whose spirituality aligns in moments like these with that of Jesus. It is also important because we are capable of and do experience such events for ourselves. The story of Merton shared in the pew bulletin is but one of a thousand such experiences ordinary people share with those on the mountain.

 

In the story of Jesus this experience is the turning point in his challenge to the political and spiritual systems ruling the lives of everyday people. Jesus has become aware that if he continues to challenge those in power he will face a confrontation he cannot win. He will die. Commentators suggest this is where Jesus turns his face toward Jerusalem fully aware of what the consequences will be but he has decided he will not have his life taken from him, but that he will proactively take charge of his destiny.

 

We may read this passage and the story of Jesus as the programmed death of God’s son for the redemption of sin, an inevitable train wreck we already know about before the opening credits of the movie roll. Yet I suspect Jesus would have come and died even if there had been no apparent fall in the Garden of Eden. Why? Because Jesus is the complete expression of the Creator being called God and if creation is to reach its fullness it must do so through the actions of Christ, and by a surging towards wholeness in Christ.

 

The Transfiguration is that moment when Jesus realises he has, if he is to succeed and bring about redemption for the world, to go to Jerusalem and run the risk of dying a harrowing death. If he is to live a life of integrity he now must come down from the mountain and move into the most critical stage of his life. It is one thing to decry the violence in the world, it is another thing to challenge violence through making it your own.

 

It is easy in our world to go on social media, turn up at street rallies and sign petitions and believe we are in fact challenging the system and its codified violence. Are we really doing anything at all to stop the violence around us? Have we actually felt what it is like to experience the violence of the system and to have no choice but to die, little by little, because of it? Often our words and our presence is safe, heard and seen only by people who share our passions but not by those who experience the implications of the issues we say we stand against.

 

Jesus could have been just like that. He could have travelled the country all his life shouting at the system and been able to justify such an action. Yet he chose not to. His integrity ensured that he was prepared to die for those affected by the system, by the evil which rules by dint of the rampant ego self in the corridors of power.

 

He did what he said. He showed us what integrity looked like and said here is your means of redemption. Come down from that moment of high spiritual awareness and engage at the depth of humanities pain, it is here you will find yourself and find that you are capable of living and dying with integrity.

 

Coming down from the mountain Jesus reminds the disciples of the rule of the road, what happens on the mountain stays on the mountain. Those who have had similar experiences often find it counterproductive to tell others. They simply don’t get it. They weren’t there. Secondly, experiences as deep as this can be misunderstood and cause problems. They’re mad, they’re dangerous, and they’re deluded. Jesus could afford none of these responses by others, even the other disciples.

 

Some one once said, if you have to tell people you are a Christian, you’re doing it wrong. Jesus doesn’t talk about his moment of truth, he acts and brings about redemption through integrity.

 

For us, the task is the same. We are responsible for our actions and to ensure our words and actions bring about redemption for ourselves and others.  Living with integrity will transform us and the world. When we take our relationships, our commercial practices and our engagement of society seriously they become a means of redeeming the world in which we live.

 

That’s what Jesus did and it seems good enough for me.

  

Not Me!

Luke 19:1-10

Why do we like Zaccheaus but never want to identify ourselves with him and his ilk?

 

As kids growing up on a farm post WWII we loved to play war games. Near our house was a hillock full of granite boulders and broken craggy trees providing an ideal spot to build forts from which to recreate great imaginative battles. The problem was no-one wanted to be the baddy. Everyone wanted to be the goody. So we often ended up defended ourselves from imaginary enemies who threatened the safety of the world!

 

Nobody wanted to be or identified as the baddies then, and no one wants to do so when they grow up. We can easily recognise the failure and faults of others and easily draw a line between ourselves and “them”, because we always find a way to be seen to be a goody. We exaggerate our perception of ourselves as being good people and are often blind to our baser nature and our real selves. Rarely do we see the sin of others in our own actions, thoughts and words. We are always in the right.

 

When we read the gospel stories, such as Luke’s story about Zaccheaus, we are appalled at the elitist position of the Pharisees and take a stand next Zaccheaus, defending him from the nasty Pharisees. Yet Zacchaeus was a thief, a robber, a person who did indeed spend much of his time taking money from the poor to feed the rich – that is himself. He was no angel. He was indeed a villain.

 

I would suggest he would be someone we would rather not be seen with, let alone share a meal with. If he moved in next door we wouldn’t invite him over for a welcome drink. Zaccheaus was no good. Yet we defend him and not the Pharisees. We fail to see ourselves in the Pharisees or in the bad guy.

 

Jesus not just says hello but goes home with Zaccheaus. Zaccaheus makes a big statement about returning what he had taken, rather grandiosely, and Jesus pronounces salvation has been witnessed. Those standing by condemn both of them. They stand with neither Jesus nor the chief tax collector.

 

And this is too easily the default position we can take for ourselves, the place of immunity, untouched by faults exhibited by others unable to place ourselves among them. In an individualistic worldview, the fault always occur elsewhere. It is not I but you who does these things I abhor.

 

Along with this goes the act of accepting inappropriate behaviour from those who are apart of our inner circle or those we spend time with. We are blind to the fact that some around me, if not me, are behaving badly. We make excuses, allow things to go on unchecked and refuse to call out bad behaviour because they are ‘nice people’, ‘well intentioned’, ‘mean no harm’.

 

The church has found itself caught in this trap. Abuse of all kinds have been tolerated, ignored, excused with statements like these. We have found it difficult to recognise sin in ourselves and in others because we want to see all those around us as good people. Therefore we tolerate behaviour that would elsewhere be called out and dealt with as inappropriate.

 

Much of such behaviour is entrenched and requires deep and honest self reflection by individuals and by communities to change. It is painful, costly and lengthy. The tax collector makes a start in the euphoria of the moment but will have to actually put his words into costly and embarrassing action. He will have to admit to the extent of his inappropriate behaviour. There are no shortcuts.  He will have to confront people who are understandably angry, upset and very unforgiving yet that what it means to be saved in an ongoing manner. Salvation is a process and he will find the process difficult.

 

The church and us here at St Oswald’s are on a similar path. Due to the types of behaviours which have been allowed to occur in the past and continue to day, not just child abuse but the more subtle, and sometimes not so subtle manipulation of others to get our way, we are faced with making changes which protect and support all.

 

The Diocese has developed a comprehensive process for dealing with such issues and we will explore this more fully in January with a seminar on such. Until that time there will be several changes occurring around the parish to ensure the safety of all. For example, the parish centre will become the hub of parish life. All staff will work out of the parish centre to ensure people are supported. All appointments to discuss any issue with staff (vicar, secretary, organist or choir director) will be scheduled and held within the parish centre when the centre is open and staffed. A new approach to governance is being adapted for the parish to ensure we comply with best practice and the changes to the new Diocesan governance act.

 

These may seem cumbersome but are necessary because, whether we like it or not, not everyone we encounter is perfect, like we are. Like Jesus we recognise that the tax collector has to start somewhere on his process of redemption. Simply by recognising the tasks he needs to carry out he has taken the first steps towards salvation. Those around Jesus and the Zachheaus are yet to do so. They are still transferring their failures onto the baddy and holding fast to their righteousness.

 

The world outside the church is looking at us for the signs of accountability and repentance and until we are honest with ourselves and face up to our sins they will remain critical and sceptical of us.

 

So where do we start? Well, we could begin by:

 

• Being aware of why we do and say things to others;
• Being mindful of the impact our words and actions may have on others;
• Being mindful of personal space and boundaries;
• Thinking before we speak and ensuring what we say is appropriate for the person, time and place;
• Being prepared to honestly reflect on our motivations  - what is behind what we want to do?;
• Being mindful of the big picture and not just what we want to achieve?
• Being aware that we are to be concerned with our behaviour and not pointing the finger at another, the sin here of the bystanders.

 

Zaccheaus encounters Jesus and begins the long road back to redemption in his society. Whether he ever made that journey, we will never know. But Jesus endorsed his commitment to do so and his willingness to begin the process of deep personal assessment necessary. In AA, an important part of the process to sobriety is to write an inventory of all whom you have hurt and then to look at how you can set things right. It takes honesty, humility and great courage to do so. Zaccheaus had that ahead of him.

  

As we the church begins to put right what we have made wrong, as we as individuals in the church reflect on the role we have played and may continue to play in continuing inappropriate behaviours, we too have a long road ahead of us. Like Zaccheaus we can commit ourselves today to the necessary self awareness to make that possible. 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Is Mindfulness The Same As Contemplation and Silence?

Luke 4

Modern science, medicine and management have discovered mindfulness, the utilitarian recruitment of, in particular, eastern meditation and philosophy. It is sold to us as a means to relieve stress, discover balance, be present in the now and be more productive at work, a better parent or partner, or whatever you choose really. I have even heard military people trumpet its value for improving soldiers ability in the field (read their ability to kill others.)

I will not deny mindfulness has its benefits but it is not meditation and contemplation. Unlike mindfulness as we are 'sold' it, meditation and contemplation does not necessarily lead to less stress, more balance, a comfortable place in the world or more production or being a better parent. Contemplation and meditation is an encounter with the deep, the unimaginable, the unknowable and the unnameable. They bring us out of our duality (this and that) into a confronting unity with that which we cannot name.

 

Contemplation and meditation are disturbing, or should be if we detach ourselves from our devices of denial and avoidance. They should raise in us questions about who we are, what we are doing, the why in what we do, the truth in what we do or are asked to do, and to bring us to the possibility of not doing what we have been expected to do.

 

In my chat with the youngsters (and others) in the first session of a 3 day silent retreat, I warn them, amongst other things, that there is every possibility they will be disturbed by thoughts they thought they had dealt with, nightmares will awake them sweating and trembling and they will encounter feelings and emotions they have thought long since discarded. It is interesting in discussion to discover, after the first day, most think I am talking twaddle and comment how wonderful it is. Sometime during the second or perhaps third day they come up to me and say you were right, and recount an experience they had overnight or that came upon them during the day. As we work through these experiences, they discover something of the incredible depth unearthed by silence and stillness.

 

Jesus goes into the desert, not as a tourist to marvel at what he would see there, but as a means to a deep encounter with himself. The desert is the wild place, the place where we encounter ourselves, our motivations, our hidden self for the very first time. We have in our gospel today the description of three such experiences for Jesus, perhaps the culmination of all the thoughts, emotions, and fears he encountered over the forty days.

 

I can only imagine how difficult 40 days of silence alone with your self would be like. Having done a number of 6+ days in silence and knowing how challenging that can be, 40 days would dig very deep into the deepest recesses of your soul and, for Jesus, dredge and unlearn all he had learnt as a Jewish boy growing up in a devout family in an ordinary neighbourhood of Nazareth.

 

The key to this experience for Jesus is the understanding that a human being is one, a unit, an indivisible unit which can not be separated into its parts and maintain its integrity. The dictionary definition of indivisibility is something that is “not divisible; not separable into parts; incapable of being divided”.

 

Our modern world seeks to divide and separate us as human beings. This is done by roles (work, family etc.), materialism (haves and have nots), progress (first world, third world), gender, race, psychological profiling and more. We are divided by what is right and what is legal, what we know and what we don’t know, what we need and what we want. When we finish dividing ourselves up there is little left that we can call a person.

 

Thomas Merton, in Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, writes: “There is a pervasive form of contemporary violence to which the idealist most easily succumbs: activism and overwork. The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit one-self to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything, is to succumb to violence. The frenzy of our activism neutralises our work for peace. It destroys our own inner capacity for peace. It destroys the fruitfulness of our own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful.”

 

Jesus in the wilderness answers the devils ‘If then….’ with a single word – indivisibility. I am indivisible from that which is found at my centre – God. God is my beginning and my end. I can find no meaning or purpose in life if I become disconnected from God. If I divide myself into a God person and an ego driven self then I cease to be a fully alive person, and become just another one of the mob of individuals, thinking they are independent but moving en masse in the same direction as every body else.

 

We can not reduce this story to individual temptations. It is greater than that. This is about the sin the of not seeing our essential nature, that we are one with God in our creation and our being and to divide ourselves up in search of earthly and material wealth, success and fame leaves us depleted.

 

We can not reduce this story to a one of ‘the Devil made me do it”, or in this case, ‘the devil nearly made me do it.’ It happens when we divide ourselves off from God and turn God into another object to be possessed and used. Jesus encounters the possible of becoming separated from God, not from an external encounter but as a result of meditation and contemplation uncovering the hidden depths of his psyche. Silence and solitude disturb and tempt us to self medicate by moving us to avoid the gnawing that never ceases.

 

Jesus doesn’t and sets the pattern for himself, his disciples and for us.

 

Mindfulness is part of the happiness project. Contemplation and meditation is part of a revolutionary disturbance focussed on becoming fully human and fully alive. It is about restoring the unity and indivisibility we sacrifice when we seek happiness at all costs. Jesus was aware of the present, conscious of those he was with, only because he remained one with that which empowered him from before he was born.

 

A challenge for us this Lent could be to take the time to contemplate our inner self and to reconnect with God, the ground of our being; to be brave enough to look at those ideas, emotions, decisions which have caused us to become divided and to take steps, gently and carefully, to remain connected and whole, God’s person in a challenging world.