Church

We might define church as the ‘people of God’ and that has got to be good, but we human beings are fallible and, despite the wonderful influence of God’s holiness, that makes the church a damaged place. I recently read Barbara Brown Taylor’s “Leaving Church” in which she explores the complexities of her relationship with the church, in some ways summed up when she says: “Gradually I remembered what I had known all along, which is that church is not a stopping place but a starting place for discerning God’s presence in this world. By offering people a place where they may engage the steady practice of listening to divine words and celebrating divine sacraments, church can help people gain a feel for how God shows up—not only in Holy Bibles and Holy Communion but also in near neighbors, mysterious strangers, sliced bread, and grocery store wine. That way, when they leave church, they no more leave God than God leaves them. They simply carry what they have learned into the wide, wide world, where there is a crying need for people who will recognize the holiness in things and hold them up to God.” She adds: “What if people were invited to come tell what they already know of God instead of to learn what they are supposed to believe? What if they were blessed for what they are doing in the world instead of chastened for not doing more at church? What if church felt more like a way station than a destination? What if the church’s job were to move people out the door instead of trying to keep them in, by convincing them that God needed them more in the world than in the church?” Well, indeed – what if?

The Other Side of the Wall

I recently read Munther Isaac’s “The Other Side of the Wall”, sub-titled “A Palestinian Christian narrative of lament and hope.” It’s a fascinating and challenging read, starting from the basic presence of the Christian Palestinian presence. As Isaac points out: “Christianity in this land is as old as the Jesus movement. The first church was in Jerusalem and composed mainly of first-century Jews who believed in Jesus as the Messiah. Since then, there has always been a Christian presence in this land. Yet so often, as I already mentioned, people are surprised to know that there are Christians in Palestine. Rather, the surprise should come if we did not exist in Palestine! This is the place where it all started, after all.” He offers an entirely reasonable lament of the lack of recognition for those in his position. “Most pilgrims come to this land having only learned one narrative about this land—they see only Israel. In this version of the story, we do not exist, or maybe we do not matter. This is how the wall works; it diminishes both our history and our present.” Isaac explores the challenges facing Palestinian Christians. “We do not write theology in libraries; we write it at the checkpoint. We bring Christ in dialogue with the checkpoint. We simply ask, What would Jesus say or do if he were to stand in front of the wall today? What would he say or do if he were to stand at a checkpoint today for five or six meaningless hours? What would his message be to the Palestinian trying to cross it and to the Israeli soldiers stopping them? Answering these questions is one reason for writing this book.” He makes a fundamental point when he says: “In response to the contemporary question of whose land it is, we can say with confidence that the land does not belong to any people, nation, ethnicity, or religion. It belongs to God.” But he also says: “Remember the question, Where do I draw the lines? Jesus comes and removes the lines. There is no circle—there is no “us” and “them” when defining the neighbour! Everyone is a neighbour—and we are called by God to love them as ourselves. It is not a matter of choice. We cannot pick and choose our neighbours!” “Sharing the land is the biblical vision we see in the Hebrew Scriptures and thus must be the prophetic vision of the church in this land and all around the world. The reality on the ground is that of “walls,” yet what is needed is a vision of “bridges.” Palestinians and Israelis must think collectively in terms of a common future in which they cooperate with one another, not a divided future in which they are separate.” Of course, the book says a great deal more – and leaves one with, yes, a sense of both lament and hope. Surely there is a way to be found in which different groups can rightly be in such a special place.

Lenten Reflection

At the beginning of Lent, particularly on the first Sunday in Lent, traditionally is the time when we reflect on the temptations of Jesus. We are told that Jesus went off into the wilderness. We are actually told that the Spirit led him there. The wilderness is a bleak place, a lonely place, and there Jesus struggled as he reflected on the mission and ministry on which he was about to embark. How should it be approached? What were the priorities? When I was in the Holy Land, in December 2011, we drove from Jericho to Jerusalem and stopped on the way to get a brief experience of being in the wilderness. (Thus, the picture.) It was clearly very different from anything Jesus experienced to get off a mini bus and walk a couple of hundred of metres or so into the wilderness, but it was moving to spend that brief time there, and to reflect on the story of the temptations. The wilderness is a significant place. It can be a place of temptation or a place of reflective strengthening or, indeed, both. It is sometimes a struggle to get through it, but that needs to be done to get to the other side. It can be worth spending time in the wilderness, but few want to stay there too long. Interestingly, one of the other things I did in 2011, but earlier, in July, was to spend seven days at a Roman Catholic in centre on silent retreat. I had spent brief periods in silence before, but never more than a matter of hours. And, to be honest, I wondered how I would get on with seven days, my only conversation, twenty minutes or so each day, with a spiritual guide and attendance at a brief service of worship. That was my time of reflection and meditation, very different from Jesus’ wilderness experience, with good food and a comfortable bed apart from anything else, but an opportunity for a focussed time with God. And, by the way, I found it so helpful that it became the first of half a dozen or so such times across the latter years of my ministry, not always for as much as seven days, a couple were just three, though one was eight. Of course, most folk don’t get the opportunity for such an extended period of silence – and many would run a mile if it were offered, as I probably would have earlier in life. It is for us to each find our own way; but if Lent is about anything, it’s about really trying to find, even just a little, special time for God.

Speaking of Sin

I have just finished reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s “Speaking of Sin” and, as always, she has good things to say. Sin, as she recognises, has become an unfashionable theme, but that does not actually render it irrelevant. Part of the problem, though, is to fail to understand what it actually is, and another part is our inability to recognise the positive contribution that can be made when we recognise it in a good and useful way. As Taylor says, “I do not believe that sin is the enemy we often make it out to be, at least not when we recognize it and name it as such. When we see how we have turned away from God, then and only then do we have what we need to begin turning back. Sin is our only hope, the fire alarm that wakes us up to the possibility of true repentance.” She goes on to explore how we can engage with sin positively and how we might see it interacting with salvation. “Jesus might define salvation as recovery from illness or addiction, as forgiveness of debt, as peace between old enemies, as shared food in time of famine, or as justice for the poor. These are all outbreaks of health in a sin-sick world. Jesus saves because he shows us how to multiply such outbreaks, and because he continues to be present in them. Otherwise, we might call them good works or good luck. Instead, we have this sense that they come to us from outside of us. Our full participation is required, but that alone cannot explain the results, which are sometimes so astounding that we can only call them grace.” Perhaps the biggest problem with sin is that we don’t want to deal with it and its consequences in the way that we should. “Some Christians .. like to think of forgiveness as a giant eraser on the blackboard of life. But there is biblical precedent for the lasting effects of sins that have been forgiven. God forgave David for his murderous affair with Bathsheba, but their firstborn child still died. Jesus came to forgive the sins of the whole world, but according to his parable in Matthew 25, he will come again to separate the sheep from the goats. Forgiveness is a starting place, not a stopping place. It is God's gift to those who wish to begin again, but where we go with it gets up to us. … Most of us prefer remorse to repentance. We would rather feel badly about the damage we have done than get estimates on the cost of repair. We'd rather live with guilt than face the hard work of new life.” To quote the book’s title, ‘speaking of sin’ …..