SERMON
PREACHED AT St PETER’S Mt MAUNGANUI
and at St MARY’S Mt MAUNGANUI
ORDINARY
SUNDAY 25
(September
20th) 2015
Readings:
Jeremiah
11:18-20
James
3:13-4:3
Mark 9:30-37
Theme: - Who
is Wise?
Firstly forgive me if I begin with a
little back-story, a mihimihi.
Although a pretty-much kiwi, growing up from the age of seven until I graduated
from university in New Zealand, I have spent much of my ministry in Australia.
We’ll skip that bit though – I after all never supported anyone except the All
Blacks in a nation where most people wouldn’t know Richie McCaw from Billy
Bunter – and simply say what a privilege and miracle it is to pulpit swap with
Richard. We come from such vastly different backgrounds that we are almost
living testimony to that remarkable Pauline vision of the many members of one
body.
I’m a sort of unregenerate retro-hippie,
who at least until and possibly after I came to Christ believed that life
consisted of chemical enhancement and Led Zeppelin (yeah, maybe that all
changed a bit after I came to
faith!); although Richard was a copper long after the times I faced off against
the police in rabble rousing left-wing protests I suspect we would not
necessarily have had a beer together in those days! My ideal church would have
so much incense that the route to the exits would need to be lit by floor
lighting and the sanctuary party would wear every item of obscure clothing
known to humankind, I am theologically conservative and socially liberal, and I
believe Richard is pretty much the opposite, and, well, pretty much so on and
so on.
I say that because our theme is one of
wisdom – who is wise? – and I am for ever convinced of the weird truth of that
great observation of God in Isaiah 55, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,” and of that other insight of St Paul, when he
writes “For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.” Human wisdom
tends to seek monochrome friendships, obsequious co-operation, and sycophantic cloning.
The wisdom of God seeks diverse contrasts, myriad world views and back-stories,
and with all that diversity begins to breathe into existence a community of
Christ.
Of which more in a minute.
It was Martin Luther who, mid-way
through his reforming career (if it can be called that), described the letter
ascribed to James as “a right strawy epistle.” By that he meant it didn’t
altogether fit his view of the way the Bible should be written or his opinion
of what the Bible should say. He hadn’t believed that earlier in his career,
but as his emphasis on what came to be known as “justification by faith alone”
became greater and greater the text that didn’t suit him became an
embarrassment. I have some – not much but some – admiration for Luther’s
thought, although that is more to do with the centrality of the cross, the
death and resurrection of Jesus in his thought than with the place of faith. I
think, though, that Luther got James badly wrong. He got it wrong because,
although it might be very nice to be filled with joy at the thought that one is
in some way “saved,” such a view of oneself is all but deluded if the encounter
with Jesus that the word “saved” denotes is not expressed in acts of justice
and compassion in the world into which God has called us. I might add that I
think Roman Catholicism gets this profoundly right, at least in theory.
I think sadly of the self-congratulatory
religious Right in the USA, and its clones around the world: their happy
experience of life as “the saved,” while translating into conviction
maintaining the rights of the unborn, does not extend to the right to life of
citizens of other nations, and they therefore contentedly support
indiscriminate military action as a solution to perceived international injustice.
I think of those whose happy experiences of salvation are not expressed in compassion
for others beyond their shores, peoples whose livelihoods and even lives are
jeopardized by rising sea-levels. I think of those whose sanctimonious faith
leaves them with little or no compassion towards others who may be unjustly
convicted, like Richard Glossip.
Glossip’s execution in Oklahoma was
delayed once more this past week; his prosecution was based on what appears to
be a reasonably shaky or at least ambivalent accusation that makes the NZ Police
case against Arthur Alan Thomas look rock solid (it wasn’t). Unless we are
ourselves God we should maintain at least some degree of possible fallibility
in our knowledge, and leave the right to life and death in the hands of God.
Glossip’s supporters incidentally include both Roman Catholic nun Sister Helen
Prejean and her alter-ego Susan Sarandon, who played her in Dean Man Walking. We should never forget
that there are myriad and disproportionately non-Caucasian inmates amongst the ranks
of death-row prisoners in the USA, as there are Māori in New Zealand’s gaols, and
it may just be that violent crime is a matter of justice not only for victims
but for all who are entrapped in webs of injustice and unequal life-opportunity
As one Facebook meme acerbically puts
it, “Deliver us, O Lord, from those who say they are pro-life, but in the next
breath discuss obliterating entire countries”(as others have said, eloquently) Jeremiah after all asks God to
take revenge, a far remove from asking the followers of God to take it upon
their own shoulders.
The author of the epistle we call James
got this. He got that we are a community that should, having encountered the
Risen Christ, be conspicuous by our acts of love and justice. We are also of
course called to be conspicuous by our belief in a God and a faith and a
relationship that spreads beyond the boundaries of mere human mortality and
mere human understanding. We should be conspicuous because we are a
resurrection people, with the implications of that strange belief reaching into
every dimension of our life. James got that wisdom is not only, or perhaps not
ever intellectual knowledge or spiritual exhibitionism, but must be expressed
in conspicuous action, even when sometimes we get it wrong, for it is better to
err on the side of compassion than of judgement, hatred and revenge.
St Isaac the Syrian (or Isaac of
Nineveh) put it profoundly in a seventh century prayer: “Conquer evil people by
your gentle kindness, and make zealous people wonder at your goodness. Put the
lover of legality to shame by your compassion. With the afflicted be afflicted
in mind. Love all people, but keep distant from all people.” It’s not a bad
directive.
This is probably why Mark provides the
strange scene of the followers of Jesus acting like pigs in a trough. The biblical writers did not need to tell the
history of the followers of Jesus warts and all, but they did so: they knew who
they were without the infiltration of the Spirit of Christ. They could afford
to tell these stories in those early days of Christianity, because the love of
Christians for one another and for those in need was so conspicuous that they
began to dismantle the brutal dog-eat-dog ethos of the Roman Empire.
They did not pen self-righteous bumper
stickers of the “Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven” variety, but set
about demonstrating in every facet of their lives that their encounter with the
Risen Lord Jesus, encountered in worship, fellowship and scriptural study, was
an encounter with the eternities of God, by which their lives and the lives of
all members of the Body of Christ were transformed. In the ancient church
“wisdom” was more often than not seen not in the intellect but in the behaviour
of the faithful. The challenge to us is to rediscover that, with all our
different back-stories and whakapapa,
so that we are the compassion and justice and eternity proclaiming Body of
Christ.
No comments:
Post a Comment