telling letters - Paul to the Corinthians, one in the Spirit

1 Corinthians 12:4-13 


Now there are varieties of gifts, but (I paused here, it felt right to do so - what does that tell me? I was perhaps drawing attention to the fact that it is the same Spirit) the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. after I had been rehearsing this for a while, I suddenly began to put stress on 'all' and 'every'one. I had been finding it difficult to decide where to place the stress in this phrase without making it feel as though Paul is saying that everyone has every gift activated within them ...  


To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. I gestured here to random points around the room for 'each', and swept my hands up from my sides for 'common good'. Also, I smiled with common good - to lift here, because this is joyful, our common humanity. 
To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. I started this part slower, and gradually picked up the pace through the list, by 'interpretation of tongues', giving the feeling that the list could go on because these are all examples, not an exhaustive list, of gifts. 
All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses. I reversed the gestures from above here - hands up from the sides with 'all these' and indicating random points in the room for 'to each.' 

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. I wanted to gesture here, but found nothing worked successfully without feeling odd about drawing attention to my body, which felt like an uneasiness because I am a woman. This bears more reflection. 

For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit. here I repeated the cup gesture from the portion from 2 Corinthians for 'drink of one Spirit,' and I paused here for a moment or two, to hold our attention on our oneness in the Spirit of Christ, which felt like the heart of Paul's message here. 

telling letters - Paul to the church at Corinth

2 Corinthians 5:11-21 – The Ministry of Reconciliation


Therefore, knowing the fear of the Lord, we try to persuade others; but we ourselves are well known to God, and I hope that we are also well known to your consciences. We are not commending ourselves to you again, but giving you an opportunity to boast about us, so that you may be able to answer those who boast in outward appearance and not in the heart. The better I got to know these words, the more I felt the concern of the writers for the recipients of this letter. Hypocrisy was something Jesus spoke against in the religious leaders of the temple; Paul addresses the issue in his letters, too, showing great concern for the harm that people do when they say one thing and do another, especially when the people they are teaching and leading are just beginning along the way of Jesus. This is one of the rewards for me of telling the letters - getting right inside, not only the argument, but the love of the writer for his audience. It helps me to make the message a message of love and encouragement for my listeners, here, today: not merely the complicated rhetoric we sometimes struggle to comprehend. 


For if we are beside ourselves, it is for God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you. As I spoke these words over and over in rehearsal, I experimented with different expression. Through this process, I discovered a meaning that made sense to me: by putting the emphasis on 'we', I indicated the contrast between the writers (Paul & Timothy) and those 'who boast in outward appearance and not in the heart.' This contrasting integrity is the reason Paul & Timothy offer an answer to the hypocrites leading the church in Corinth along a harmful path. 

For the love of Christ urges us on (I didn't quite settle on where I wanted to place the emphasis here - it felt again like a contrast between what urges Paul & Timothy on and what might be the motives of the hypocrites, so I went with stress on both 'Christ' and 'us', but it never quite felt right), because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.
From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. (again, the emphasis and stress was difficult to settle here, the language is sparse compared to how I would probably say it in English today, and even with expression it's not always possible to convey meaning effectively. The 'even though' follows from the previous phrase, but also leads into the next, and so is carrying quite a lot of meaning. I kept wanting to put a 'but' before 'we no longer know him' - perhaps that would have helped.)

So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! (this sentence felt joyful - I lifted on 'new creation', pulled back on expression with 'everything old ... ', and built up to a climax at 'become new!' And really felt Paul's excitement and passion at the good news in the story of Jesus Christ.) 

All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. To this point, as with the letter from John, I had used little gesture. But here, I introduced gesture - with 'reconciled' & 'reconciling' I gestured linking my hands in front of me; held my right hand up, palm away from me for 'not counting ...', and brought my hands up in a cupping motion with 'entrusting' - hopefully indicating that this message is a gift to treasure.  

So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. I repeated the gesture of linking my hands with 'be reconciled to God'. 

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. I slowed down the last phrase, in a sense of reverence for God and the gift this is to us. Even so, it felt inadequate, because I feel as though 'righteousness' has lost meaning for us. I wonder if retranslating it, or including some further explanation to more effectively convey what Paul might mean by 'the righteousness of God' in this context ... ? 

reflecting on John's letter of love

1 John 4:7-21 – God Is Love
storytelling - synod/presbytery day one


Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. 
God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. I spoke the latter phrase as a parentheses - the writer punctuating his argument with theological commentary.


Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. The inherited text runs on here, but it felt to me like a better place to pause than where the text had a paragraph break (after the next sentence). No one has ever seen God; (I didn't add it in, but it felt like there was an implied 'but' here, which I hope I implied with expression) if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us. By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. And we (I wondered if 'we' referred to John and the disciples, or followers of Christ in general) have seen and do testify that the Father has sent his Son as the Saviour of the world. God abides in those who confess that Jesus is the Son of God, and they abide in God. So we have known and believe the love that God has for us.
God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgement, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. As I repeated these lines, I could feel the reference back to 'God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us' - when we love each other. I having a lingering question about whether perfection means something different to a state of no blemishes ... I didn't quite answer this question, and therefore didn't know what I wanted to communicate with those words: I also, then, didn't quite nail effective expression for that phrase.


We love because he first loved us. Those who say, ‘I love God’, and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. Gesture and movement is more sparse in letters, as you take on the place of the letter writer - there are no characters whose places to take, no directions in which they move. So my hands were still for much of this telling. But in these phrases, I was gesturing the 'hate' with my left hand, palm away from me, and then I turned my palm up with the 'do not love', indicating a person to be loved, and as I spoke 'cannot love God', I turned my palm away again for the 'have not seen'. This made me wonder, is the 'whom they have not seen' referring to not seeing God because no one does see God, or that we haven't seen God in the brother or sister whom we have 'hated'? Since further above, John has said, 'if we love one another, God lives in us ... '


The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.

reflecting on telling the letters of John and Paul

I thought I would reflect on my process preparing to tell portions from the letters of John and Paul for our Synod / Presbytery annual meeting's opening worship and Bible studies. As I was talking to others, the phrase - inhabiting the text - came up. It really is like that, preparing a portion of Biblical story to tell: you repeat the words over and over and they travel further and further into your being - mind and soul and spirit - and becomes part of you, and you enter into it. With the letters, I find that I enter into the argument and enter into the spirit of the writer, their passion and concern for the recipients of the letter, and it becomes my concern. It becomes my argument, too. And then - as observed by another in conversation at the meeting - it's like I am speaking to the listeners then and there, making the argument up myself.
So what happens to get to this point, and what's so good about it? So posting here, I'm going to take each of the portions I told at the meeting and note my processes and discoveries.

of discerning, dancing and becoming

This morning I read about a person who was discerning whether or not to go to college; she asked God for a sign, like a rainbow, to confirm her path.
I'm not sure how I feel about that. It comes a little too close to treating God like a puppet, or expecting that we are puppets, or something. Or it personifies God too much. Yes, perhaps that's it. My friend Heather commented here a few weeks back that God is like a feminine presence, with us all, all the time.
For me, discerning has been less about signs and wonders, and more about attentiveness. Perhaps looking for signs is a different kind of paying attention, I don't know, but as I pondered my response I remembered the process of discerning that led me to apply to candidate for ordained ministry, or the moment of arriving at the decision, more precisely.
The call to ordained ministry for me was like standing at a junction, with several paths I could choose; some clear and safe, others enticing but hard to make out.
And having listened - really listened - to God and to myself for about a year, suddenly my mind and soul and body (yes, it was a physical knowing, which I feel even now, years later, as I recall it) together turned toward the direction I was going to take. It was like in stopping, and paying attention, I found or saw, the Spirit dancing around me, calling me into my own becoming - into the gifts the Spirit herself had given me - and the delight she exuded as I glimpsed the path that would lead me into fulfilling and fulfillment.
I have been preparing a portion of Paul's letter to the Corinthians to tell at Synod on Saturday, in which Paul observes that the Spirit gives us our gifts for the common good. We are one body, many members yes, but one together. None of us are whole on our own.
And those of us who have heard and seen the Spirit dance and are following her lead, must help others to hear and follow the call into our own becoming, together.

A story - Jesus is challenged on the question of taxes

Matt 22:15-22

The story from the perspective of an (imagined) eye witness.

My Dad and I were in Jerusalem that year, it must have been only my second pilgrimage I think – I was not yet quite an adult. We were staying with an uncle. As we got closer to Jerusalem, we met people along the way who told stories of this man called Jesus, who seemed to be gathering quite a lot of followers. They were telling stories of healing and teaching and spending time with people we had always been told were unclean, and would make us unclean if we got too close. This Jesus guy sounded to me like a very strange person, but still, someone I really wanted to see for myself.

When we got to Jerusalem and heard he was there too, we went straight away, following the crowds to get as close as we could. And we felt what the people on the roads had said they felt – that he was talking just to you, and wherever he was, that was where you wanted to be.

The Jewish leaders in Jerusalem didn’t like Jesus at all. They were saying terrible things about him, and if they heard you’d been in the crowds, they would get very aggressive and want to know what he said and what he did and who he was with. And they would tell you to stay away. I didn’t like them very much. They made my skin crawl.

One day that week we, my dad and uncle and I, happened to overhear some of the Pharisees talking about Jesus. It sounded like they were plotting an attack, so my dad and uncle got this idea that if we listened in and heard what they were planning, maybe we could warn Jesus. We were in a market, and the men were hiding in between some stalls. We kept out of sight around the corner, and listened in. Even though it was crowded and noisy with people and animals in the market, and we could only just hear what they were saying, I realised I was holding my breath, I was so frightened of what they might do if they heard us loitering around the corner.

The gist of their conversation was that they wanted to trap Jesus into saying something against Caesar so that the Roman soldiers would arrest him and he wouldn’t be around to stir up trouble any more.

We headed out early the next morning, to try to get close to Jesus before the Pharisees did. There was always such a crowd around him, though, that we couldn’t get close to him at all, let alone tell him what we had heard. The Pharisees posed the question, and really, it was so obvious what they were trying to do, sucking up to him like that. ‘Teacher, we know that you are sincere (they didn’t think that at all), and teach the way of God in accordance with truth (they called him a liar most of the time), and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality (but they thought people should show deference to them and were angry that he didn’t). Tell us, then what you think. (dramatic pause as they tried to contain their anticipation) Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not?’

Oh, now for quite a few that day who were not sure about whether Jesus was a good guy or not, this swayed it for them that he was a good guy. Jesus was so calm, I didn’t even think about calling out to warn him not to answer because it was a trap. You could tell he had the measure of these guys. And he called them on it – why are you putting me to the test – you hypocrites! And he asked them to show him the coins we used for taxes. Whose head is this? The emperor’s. then give it to the emperor. Give to God what is God’s.

I heard people tell the story later, describing the Pharisees as being amazed, but it was more than that – they were speechless, deflated, and seething with anger.

As my dad and uncle and I walked home later, I asked them about Jesus’ response. The Pharisees might not have cared about the answer, but we certainly did. I had heard my parents and the other adults in the village talking and arguing and wondering about this question: whether it was right according to Torah to pay taxes to Rome. Was it right to show such allegiance to this emperor who called himself divine, an empire of people who worshipped many, many gods?

We talked about what Jesus had said, and decided that paying taxes to the empire isn’t giving our allegiance to their gods, because Jesus said to give to God what is God’s. Our hearts belong to God, our lives, our mind and our strength is all for God. So our money can go to Caesar, it is the money of the empire, and it supports the work of the empire, like building roads and buildings and aquaducts. And our allegiance, through prayer and studying Torah, and singing the psalms – our allegiance we give to God.

But then we wondered, if we’re supporting the work of the empire, are we showing our support for the unjust things they do? We don’t think their taxes are fair, they make poor people even more desperate. Shouldn’t we make a statement about our opposition to this injustice by withholding our taxes?

We talked about how, because we give our heart and mind and strength to God, and live according to Torah, we are taught to love our neighbours. So while our money goes to a sometimes corrupt and unjust regime, our time and our energy and food and shelter is shared with those who need it. So with our actions and the rest of what we have, we say, this is a more just way of living, this is what we do out of our allegiance to God.

This is what we thought Jesus meant by advising us to give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God. We know our lives to be a gift from God, so that means we have to – and we choose to – give our wholehearted devotion to God.

You’re still telling this story so many years after it began – what do you hear in the answer Jesus gave to the Pharisees? 

The Esther Project: lessons in sustainability

I have been invited to share from the story of The Esther Project today at a national gathering of ministers from the Uniting Church. Feeling a little nervous - telling the story through the lense of sustainability when this became an unsustainable community makes me, its leader, vulnerable. However it is a story we need to tell, revealing lessons we as a church must learn if we are to enable new models of church to emerge and flourish, enriching our wider communities with nurturing communities of faith.
The full text will become a chapter in the book I am going to write - now that I have finally begun - but the nutshell I have arrived at in regards to sustainability is this:

Fresh expressions need time and money. The church will need to fund ideas and dreams, give time and resources to leaders pursuing possibilities, making space for opportunities, building relationships. Out of these relationships fresh expressions may - may - emerge.
God is always calling us beyond where we are. We have not arrived. Let us journey off our safety maps and discover God in the world.

Why do we sing?

Well, yesterday was all about why we sing.
Jonathon Welch's keynote explored the question first up:
Apparently someone has done experiments with water, playing music or saying a word at a glass or bottle of water then freezing it. When you freeze water, crystals form. Depending on what word or music was directed at the water, the crystals took different shapes. Yes, water responds to words and music. Speaking hate at the water caused the crystals to shatter. We are 80% water. We respond physically to music; we respond physically to what is spoken to us and how.
Also, when we hear music, it is not the logical left side of the brain that responds, it is the emotional right side of the brain. We have no choice, but to respond to music. And this is how / why music helps us to open up emotionally; why it opens us up to healing.
Jonathon's experiences with choirs of people from disadvantaged situations shows how, even though they don't seek to be a counselling help group, or a rehab program, people bring all of who they are into every situation, and when it's a music situation, and the emotional part of our being is being opened up in this way, he and the other volunteers needed to be ready to respond and care for the members of the choir.

After morning tea (right, donated by Villi's), I attended a workshop with David Roach, on arts and healing.
Space is important for our healing - architecture of churches often resembles a striving for God, a looking beyond what we know towards the Divine, the Other. Healing is a looking beyond, looking beyond what we are experiencing now to a time without pain, suffering, illness ...
When it comes to healing spaces, it has been shown that in hospitals, patients who have a view to outside, nature, heal more quickly and effectively than those who don't. Windows are a portal, an escape - help us to look beyond. (come to think of it, it's one of the things I appreciated most about the chapel at college, the window looking out on nature ... )
David also spoke about music, and how music and song have always been part of human rites and ceremonies. We connect with music and lyrics that express something of experience, and in the naming, find healing. (connection came up at a few points over the weekend; there seems to be something inherently healing about connecting with each other - when Jesus healed people, it often involved their restoration into community ...) And the healing that happens through music therapy, through any therapy, is as much about the healing nature of the relationship as it is about the music. Connection. 
Visual arts have been part of human experience as long as we've been human: we've been making our marks on rocks to tell our story, who we are, and communicate with each other across the world and ages.
Why do we sing (or engage in any artistic genre)? Art explores our senses, and it is through our senses that we engage with the world and make meaning of that world and our experience. Art expresses feeling and engages the mind in a creative process helping to relieve the pain.

After lunch, the workshop with Jonathon turning us into a choir for our evening performance, and then the evening's concert itself, were the experiential underpinning of the earlier reflections on why we sing. Joy. What other reason do we need? And it's a joy that isn't happiness, because happiness is fleeting, and joy can remain even when we are not happy. Singing expresses who we are, leads us into wholeness, connects us with each other and with the Holy.
What more reason would we need?

Thanks to the Centre for Music, Liturgy and the Arts for a fantastic weekend. Well done team!

on arts, culture, and social inclusion - Jonathon Welch part 1

Last night I had the privilege of hearing Jonathon Welch speak, as part of the Centre for Music, Liturgy and the Arts' Weekend with Jonathon Welch.
Jonathon shared a lot of his own story, in a generous gift of himself than any of us were expecting. Much of his story, and along the way the stories of folk from the Choir of Hope & Opportunity (formerly Choir of Hard Knocks) and others, demonstrates of music what I so often observe about story: through music (or story) Jonathon finally saw how everything he had been given came together, why he had been given the gifts he has - for the benefit of the community. And isn't that why any of us have the gifts we have - so that together we can live out the fulness of our humanity?
He spoke of the gift that the choir had been - giving people a much longed-for chance to participate in life. And more than the music - which, by the way, is enough on its own, contrary to so many people's apparent opinion - the learnt to work together, to trust each other, something they'd long forgotten how to do. This choir also offered them the experience of being acknowledged, which for people of disadvantage on the edges of society is so rare: they were acknowledged for their contribution and for their existence. (Again, this resonates with what I observe about the experience of having our story heard)
Arts and culture - as Jonathon said - are how we carry who we are, have been for all people throughout all time. Why, then, are they so little valued when it comes to making decisions for funding?

The question he raised for me was, how is a community choir / choir community (or family, as the choir of hope & opportunity has become) like a faith community / community of faith ... ? And what would teaching on social inclusion through community arts programs offer to the students at our theological colleges, training to be leaders in our communities of faith??

Jonathon Welch continues to offer reflections and bring a choir together in one afternoon today, and will be performing, with this and other choirs, at Maughan Church Adelaide this evening, 7.30 pm. $15 ($10 conc). All welcome!

on Christmas Trees and Holiday Trees

This is part of an email that was sent to me today:

Apparently the White House referred to Christmas Trees as Holiday Trees for the first time this year which prompted CBS presenter, Ben Stein, to present this piece which I would like to share with you. I think it applies just as much to many countries as it does to America . 





The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary.


My confession:




I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees, Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are, Christmas trees.


It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, 'Merry Christmas' to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu . If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.




I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.




Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren't allowed to worship God ? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.



In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.




Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her 'How could God let something like this happen?' (regarding Hurricane Katrina).. Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, 'I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?'




...

My response: 

I'm not sure I agree with what Anne Graham says, that if we push God away how can we expect protection - still implies that God made the hurricane happen, or failed to protect us from nature, when nature's forces have been set in motion, and the earth will crack its surface and create big winds to stay at a sustainable temperature for all creation ... rather than God sending hurricanes or stepping in to stop their force. 

I agree with Stein, though, that people who believe in God need to stop apologising as much as we need to stop disrespectful proselytising ... let's have some integrity about who we are and what we believe, and some deeper resepect for each other. (including the celebrities whose lives we think we have a right to scrutinise!) 

From 28 August 
I feel more settled as a writer, more confident perhaps that this is my gift and my responsibility is to nurture that gift. I feel inspired, with ideas for stories, poems and essays. Overwhelmingly, though, I feel less worried about the other half time of my working life...

When I talked about this feeling coming home from study leave, I don't know if I really believed I would do it. But I am! Looking at the number of posts I'm putting up here, the thinking and reflecting I am doing, the writing I am producing (volume wise, not necessarily claiming quality) - I think it is possible because I have come home with that confidence I wrote about, the peace about the other half of my 'working' life being spent writing, teaching, leading workshops and telling stories. I must say, I am enjoying it.

All this sparked by an email with a thought-provoking perspective on where God is and how people of faith are placed in Western society! I am shaking my head to recall how as I read it, my thoughts started to emerge, to write themselves. This is the life I dreamed of - the life of a poet, writer, storyteller.
Some day I'll take some of these blog posts and polish them - as I think I promised to do post poetry workshops, but at the moment, I am enjoying simply writing, and when others join in the conversation, that is also something I enjoy. And your reflections will probably help shape any polished pieces that might emerge from these ramblings ... so, in anticipation, thank you!

of returning to God's way of Love

Stories weave in and around and through each other in such mysterious and enlightening ways sometimes.
I mentioned a couple of days ago that the book of reflections I'm using has been inviting me to read Psalm 119 in recent weeks. Today we reached the final stanza of that epic psalm, and its final verse struck me.
I have gone astray ... I have not forgotten thy commandments (KJV - I like reading the psalms in this version, the language is beautiful, and we all know I'm a fan of Shakespeare - this is his language).
I digress.
These words from the psalmist reminded me of an image that emerges for me when I consider the notion of 'sin'. There's a lot of baggage and years of unhelpful theology that tumble after that word, and get in the way of my understanding the message from the Epistles, and understanding our relationship with God. So I have this picture, and thankfully it seems to appear like the 'beep' over people's bad language in family tv timeslots, so that I don't trip on all the baggage. In the same way the TV editors replace an offensive word with a 'beep', my mind replaces 'sin' with a picture of humans turning away from God.
The grander picture it reminds me of is a picture of our living God's way of love - it's a continual movement of turning towards God, turning away and turning back. It is the multifaceted 'I have gone astray ... I have hot forgotten' of the psalmist.
And the most beautiful part of that verse is what the psalmist says in between: 'search me out'. God seeks us as we turn away and turn back. God does not turn away. Even in the stories of the ancient Hebrew people, when they understand that the covenant relationship with the people of Israel forced God's hand with their apparent punishment: God goes with them into exile. It may feel like God has, but their experience is always that, in fact, God does not turn away.
Our experiences lead us to trust in this constant presence of God: this trust means we can continually turn back, confident that God is also reaching out to us as we reach out to God, welcoming us back into the home, forgiveness, grace, love that we long for.

Our trust in this presence of God, our commitment to remember God's commandments even though we have gone astray, shapes the decisions we make in our daily living.
This week for my reflection in worship at Belair, I am considering the story in the Gospel of Matthew where Jesus is challenged by the Pharisees with the question of taxes. Do we owe our allegiance to Caesar, Rome & their polytheistic spirituality, or to our God, the One True God? It's a question the posers actually don't want an authentic answer to, they're out to trap Jesus and get him arrested. The answer, though, is authentic as much as it is a clever sidestep out of trouble.
The question of allegiance isn't just about what we do with our money. It's about how we live our lives, how we live out our commitment to God's Way of Love. Do we use our resources of money, time, energy, love, and collectively the earth, for the common good, or only for ourselves? This is not to say that we can't enjoy and appreciate the good things we have - Jesus came that we might have life in its fulness. But do we share of the goodness or hoard it for ourselves with not a second thought for those whose life is less fortunate, or for God who is the source of all that is good?

This is the question.
How then shall we live?
We steep ourselves in the story of God's way of love, immerse ourselves in a life of prayer and song and beauty and serving and caring - love itself.
And so, our choices reflect the story, reflect God's love.

Paying taxes supports the leaders who provide services for the community. Honouring our civic responsibilities become one part of the way we live out our commitment to God's way of love. One part of a whole life lived according to love.

A chance to sing with and hear Jonathon Welch!


This Weekend ...
Conference and Concert with Jonathon Welch! 

Performer, conductor, speaker, teacher and social inclusion activist – Jonathon Welch AM has inspired Australians to reconnect with music and opened our eyes to issues including homelessness, depression and addiction. Jonathon’s talent and passion were showcased on ABC TV’s Choir of Hard Knocks and Jail Birds. Workshops include singing and non-singing options.

Conference

Friday evening October 14th and Saturday October 15th

Pilgrim Uniting Church, 12 Flinders Street

Registration: $120 conc. / $140 reg.

Can't make the conference but want to hear Jonathon Welch perform?

Concert

Saturday October 15th at 7:30pm

Maughan Uniting Church

Tickets: $10 conc. / $15 reg.

Come along to the concert featuring the conference choir with Jonathon Welch and also enjoy...

The Voice of Transition - a group of young Adelaide vocalists who sing, arrange and generally rock out to produce amazing music together. With a broad range of repertoire and an outstanding vocal blend, these local talents have gone from strength to strength since their formation in 2008 and have become an award winning choir. The Voice of Transition is directed by acclaimed vocalist, teacher, arranger, director and musician Kim Spargo.

Ngarrindjeri Miminar Kykulan - a group of approximately 8 women from the Ngarrindjeri nation. The aim was to give women of all ages the opportunity to develop their vocal skills as well as have an avenue to express themselves. One of their members recently returned from the Melbourne premiere of Pecan Summer, Australia's first Indigenous Opera, written by Deborah Cheetham. Jonathon Welch also performed in the Opera.

The International Gospel Choir - a group of refugees from Burundi who sing energetic and life-giving music. Their African rhythms and soulful sound will have everyone dancing in the aisles. 

on the doors of opportunity

gate with two people, Santa Fe August 2011

Life really is interesting. This week I’ve faced some open doors – one open that I had walked through only to come up against another unexpected door before I could go any further, and another that had been left ajar for some time, with hope but not promise it would open more fully. The unexpected door remained shut, but in the mean time the preferred door fulfilled its hope and promise and swung open …

And then I was reading my daily reflection today and the practices bit is exploring discernment this month. There’s a line that is still ruminating: ‘… you learn to look and listen for the nudges and whispers of God. God often speaks through unexpected events and persons.’ This seems to me to be a picture of God acting like humans, the same sort of interaction we have with each other. But is it like that? does God tell us – go this way, go that way? Park here, apply for that job? Or do we apply for jobs, explore opportunities and in the exploring, praying and listening for the call of God along the way, discern the path of most integrity for us and who we are becoming?

I think about my call to ordained ministry. It wasn’t as if I heard God saying, I would like you to be a minister now. It was more that I listened – learning about specified ministry, looking at my gifts and dreams and passions, examining my place in the community / body of Christ. And in this active listening, the Spirit was calling me – ah, see when I use Spirit language, yes, I tapped into the Spirit, this is what the grand call is after all, God / Spirit calling to us to connect, to live God’s way, and when I did that the call was a call for me personally and for the whole body of Christ. We are only whole with each other. The call I was listening for was the call into my fullness of being.

Does God nudge? That is my question. I’m not sure. Perhaps. But the phrase conjures up an image of God I want to leave behind – the puppet string pulling, find me a car park, finger pointing old man in the sky God pushing us one way or the other.

That picture negates free choice. That picture is too small and individualistic. That picture makes us wonder if God is nudging me this way or that, why doesn’t God nudge the despots and dictators towards peace?

There’s always a listening on our part. And I’m not convinced it’s a listening for a particular message for a particular moment. It feels to me more like we listen to the story, for the grand call of God into the fullness of our humanity, into God’s way of healing and reconciling love – and when we do that, we find the answers to the day to day questions about how then shall we live.

So with this door open and me having actually stepped through it, I had found there was another door unexpectedly placed before me. It was unexpected for those on the other side of the first door too. So we had a look at the keys to see if I had the key to open this new door. In the mean time, a door that had been standing ajar on the other side of those rooms with many doors swung open. This was a door through which I was much more disposed to walk. This door I would walk through out of love, passion, gifting and my calling. The other was a choice for money, if I’m being honest.

And the first door with its new door – well, turns out I didn’t have the key.

Now I am faced with choices for how I respond to these doors and their opening and closing.

Do I get bitter about the new door not opening for me when I thought I had done enough? Do I offer thanks for the preferred door opening after all?

Or do I learn from this again that the decisions I make for money are less successful choices than those I make out of love?  

doing it for ourselves

I was sitting in the lounge today, waiting for my lunch to cook, when I heard a crash in the courtyard outside the window. The courtyard is sunken, about 6 or 7 steps down from the driveway, covered, with a wall around one corner that has vine and jasmine crawling over it. It seems that a koala may have been climbing on the wall and slipped down the vine into the courtyard. And then he (why is my default assumption that this koala was a boy?) had to find his way out.
The photos can speak for themselves with what he tried. It was very hard to watch, though, and I felt a little bad taking the photos (I stepped away from the windows occasionally out of respect for the koala needing to find his way without an audience). But this was one of those instances when I really couldn't help - the obvious language barriers would make my visitor feel a little threatened, and koalas are not cuddly teddy bears with those frightening claws ...

As I've been thinking about the koala's efforts to escape I've been thinking about how there are times when we have to sit back and watch others try to find their way through the challenges they face, and as much as we would like to jump in and help, show the way, or even do it for them, it would be more harmful to try. So we sit back, sit on our hands if we have to, watch and hope from the sidelines - little koala, that's not the way out, why don't you use the steps?? - with gasps as his claws cling onto the rafters and the branch wavers.

There are times when we do step in - we came close, my koala friend and I, as the vine looked like it could
tangle him up dangerously - but what a discipline it is to recognise that we are not the only ones who possess the ability to find a way through a particular circumstance; that our right way may not be the only right way, may not be the right way for another. How hard it is to watch another make mistakes, risk harming themselves, but knowing that if we intervened we may cause even more harm to them and us.
I hope my keeping my distance was enough of a gift to the koala to help him find his way on his own. On reflection, my visitor has given
me a gift, too, a reminder for the next time I am tempted to 'help' someone by showing them the way through a challenge they are facing. Perhaps I will remember the koala, and will keep my distance, step away from the window and let another make mistakes and take some risks without an audience (staying close enough to be on hand for a fall or tangled vine if needed).

Psalms, prayer and a dream

I’m really enjoying Openings, a daybook of saints, psalms and prayer (Larry James Peacock) (available from MediaCom). I don’t spend even half an hour with it usually, but since I moved my papasan chair into my room with my table, which I’ve decorated with monet prints from diaries and calendars, I have finally found my way into a daily rhythm of sitting with psalms in stillness. The book has for each day a person to remember, a passage of scripture (usually from the psalms), a reflection for contemplation and some suggestions for spiritual practices. It’s one page per day. Tiny criticism is the usa-centricity of it, but one writes for one’s own context and that’s the author’s context. It’s not overpowering, the people for remembering do come from places other than America regularly enough, and even when the reflections centre on education and teachers in September which is out of context for an Australian academic year, it’s still helpful guidance to remember the people who have taught us and given us the gift of mentoring, whatever time of year it is.

At the moment, the book is guiding the reader through psalm 119, the longest chapter in the bible. Its celebration of God’s way / teaching / law / commandments is worth taking time to savour. God’s way of love has been a thread woven through much of my reflections with Belair this year, and psalm 119 seems to hold some clue, some kernel of aha that might reveal itself to me in time, about living that way. You know. It’s like there’s this question in the back of my mind, probably inspired by this being my first placement as a minister, about how we live, as individuals and as a community, committed to God’s way of love. What shapes our living? What guides our discerning? It’s the story of God, the story of God’s relationship with creation and in particular humanity throughout time. If we can steep ourselves in that story – that guidance, teaching, covenant – it will shape our living. Of course I see it through the lens of story. I guess you could name it something else if you were an artist (you’d talk about painting the picture), or a cook or host (you’d talk about the feast and welcoming), a teacher or nurturer (you’d talk about instruction and wisdom), or a healer (you’d talk about healing, wholeness, reconciliation). For me it is story. if we know this story as well as we know our own story – for the story of God is our story – we will live out of that story as we live out of the story of all our experiences that have shaped who we are. And this is a story of healing reconciling welcoming nurturing beautiful love. Such a story shapes whole people and communities of care, of wisdom, of reconciliation, of love.

I just want to say this over and over again to my community, to anyone - everyone! It is a dream towards which I feel compelled, pulled, drawn, enticed. I think this is God’s dream. I think this is the dream Jesus is describing when he tells his stories of the kingdom of God. Oh, it makes me shiver to imagine living this dream!

So I might not spend that long sitting down in silent contemplation each morning with this book, but sitting down with it each morning is sparking the prayers and thoughts and dreaming, and inspiring my living. 

church as exercise for the heart

thanks to the South Australian Council of Churches e-news for this reflection which came through today:

Gospel

Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son…” Matthew 22:1-14

For reflection…

Heaven, the scriptures assure us, will be enjoyed within the communal embrace of billions of persons of every temperament, race, background, and ideology imaginable. A universal heart will be required to live there. Thus, in this life, it is good to get some practice at this, good to be constantly in situations that painfully stretch the heart. Few things - and we certainly all admit this - stretch the heart as painfully as does church community. Conversely, when we avoid the pain and mess of ecclesial encounter to walk a less painful private road or to gather with only persons of our own kind, the heart need not and generally does not stretch. Going to church is one of the better cardiovascular spiritual exercises available. 

Ronald Rolheiser ‘The Holy Longing’

how then shall we live?

Sunday's reflection at Belair was inspired by Psalm 19, Matthew 21, and the story of Clare of Assisi, and followed along the theme that's woven through most of my reflections this year - God's way of love (also known as the kingdom of God / heaven).
Clare of Assisi lived a life of radical poverty, inspired by Francis of Assisi and the Franciscan monks of his order. This was really radical poverty - Clare and her fellow nuns refused to own anything, even in common. Even the reasonably strict Benedictine order instructs people to own things in common. They only ate what the Franciscan monks would beg for them (they're in the 13th century, and it was not advisable for women to beg). Clare fought hard with the various popes to protect their rule of life, and succeeded, mostly. Within a decade of her death, though, the nuns were ordered by the church to follow a rule of life much more like the Benedictine Rule, having to give up the institutional poverty they had committed to.
I wondered in my sermon whether this radical poverty was actually untenable. I didn't focus on that question, but explored then what can we learn from Clare's story. It did force me to ask questions about how I live, and what I might do differently in order to live in solidarity with the poorest in our world, and make the small changes that will reduce my eco footprint, and that if we all made, might help to redistribute wealth around the world with greater fairness for all.
In conversation over morning tea, another person wondered if it might have been a good opportunity for discussion - and I think it would have been, staying with the question of poverty, and whether those with wealth are called to leave it all behind and embrace poverty, or whether it is more a question of to what extent we live responsibly and share what wealth we have.
What of Clare, then? Do we think she was wrong? That there was no point to her choice?
I wonder if people like Clare, Francis, and their orders, are like the Old Testament prophets whose message was given not only in the words they spoke, but through their actions. Those prophets married prostitutes and walked about naked in order to visibly and radically share the message from God calling the people to change their ways.
Does Clare's radical poverty not call all of us to radical poverty, but like the hyperbole of Jesus' parables, exaggerate the point so that we receive it and understand it?
In the radical poverty of Clare of Assisi might we hear a call to fair distribution of wealth and a reminder of the poverty that exists in the world, a challenge to mindful living with the earth and all creation ??
Jesus did come so that we might have life, in its fulness. But I think we need to realise that our fulness of life is not complete while our neighbours live in poverty.