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Saturday, 30 July 2022

three fingers pointing

 

SERMON PREACHED AT St MARY’S, Nth OAMARU

EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME (July 31st) 2022

 

 READINGS:

 

Hosea 11: 1-11

Psalm 107: 1-9, 43

Colossians 3: 1-11

Luke 12: 13-21

 

 

Tucked away in a series of teachings about expectation and judgement Luke has Jesus throw in a conversation about wealth. Wealth!

A week ago I could talk breezily about Mercs and Porsches because you and I both know I’m never going to own one! Dreams are free, and critiques are cheap when fingers are pointed firmly, if only in satirical ways, at others. But as we all know, when we point at others three times as many fingers point back at ourselves. Now I’m not going totally to spill my guts here, but, hey, what are the three pointy fingers saying to me?

You know, things are tightening at the moment. Belts, that is. I’ve been feeling miserable, not only because Putin is acting like a prat, and plastic sludge is endless, and species are dying, (except Nepalese tigers I believe, and now people are complaining because there population is expanding again), and Mother Earth Papatuanuku is overheating.  But I like most of you – and let me know if you’re an exception – I’m feeling the pinch.

Feeling the pinch? What pinch? What am I feeling compared to the daily struggles of the those living in Eritrea, where crops have failed again? Madagascar, Somalia, Yemen … this list is terrifying enough before we even add countries where turmoil is escalating, governments tumbling, hope fading.

It was of course ever thus to some degree. Many of the countries struggling today were struggling yesterday. Images from Eritrea in the 1980s tore at the world’s soul. Other countries have suffered then, too: Bangladesh, Nigeria … on and on goes the list.

One outcome is compassion fatigue. What can I do? In my book on Revelation (he says modestly) I suggest that whatever else the day of judgement might be – and we toss judgement out of our faith at great peril – we of the global north will have much sorry saying to do: Neither the judgment images of the Book of Revelation, nor this Jesus encounter with a money-grasping man, nor the man in the story Jesus tells to him, allow us room to think we can saunter nonchalantly into whatever heaven” is, whatever “eternity” is.[1]

Neither though are they entirely a thing of terror: the news of Jesus is good news, not horror. But we are challenged to look at ourselves. And sometimes when we fail to do that God does it for us, and expectations and even empires and civilizations crumble because we have failed Justice and Compassion 101. Welcome to the months since bugs escaped a Wuhan market: our stripping mother nature bare (“earth is a witch and we still burn her,” as Christy Moore powerful chants) is hurting all creation. At the very least we are experiencing payback time as nature, God’s agent, calls in some debts.

That too is to some extent unfair. God knows if those in an Eritrean camp right now have done less in a lifetime to damage the world and its ecology than I probably do, actively or passively, in a month of Global North lifestyle. And I say that even without owning a Porsche or a mansion, or, as, Dr Townsley  yet again reminded us, a da Vinci painting that sold in 2016 for $450 million dollars. Thats a lot of provisions for a lot of starving children. 

Earlier in the liturgy we undergo a small rite that reminds of our participation in sin, exploitation, lovelessness, all the attitudes and behaviours that run counter to Gospel. We hear a priest say that God forgives us. Yet I believe that there is still, in whatever judgement is, a need for further recognition of our wrongdoing. How many people could have eaten this past week if I had eaten less, used fewer commodities, burned up less power? Am I at least to some extent the man storing grain in his barn?

Are the ecological and economic collapses threatening God’s earth a foretaste of what the New Testament writers call the orgé, the wrath of God? And while today our news services remind us that the suffering is greater in Global South or Third World countries, if there is life beyond death, as this Jesus parable presumes, may I not be the one to whom the words “you fool” are directed? We have a doctrine of forgiveness, yes, but I think God may ask us to look deep into the eyes of those who are suffering before the final absolution is pronounced.

No one should like preaching in this way. I preach to myself. But right from the beginning, as Mary the Mother of Jesus proclaims her Magnificat, Luke has been warning us that the lenses of God’s judgement are not to be dismissed airily. There are strong hints in this passage about sharing – the man in the parable failed to share his wealth. Grain, as it happens, the likes of which Mr Putin’s obscene behaviour has almost stolen from the most desperate on earth. But I am not guiltless either: I fail to live up to the motto I tout, live simply, so others may simply live. We will find later in Luke’s writings, in the Book of Acts, that the early Christians – for a brief period – shared their goods in common, precisely so the naked could be clothed, the hungry fed, the widows given hope. We know form Paul’s letter to the Corinthians this idealism quickly died – yet in that death we stand roundly chastised. Chastised, but not, pray God, condemned. Not quite.

What can we do? Now, insanely, I water down my own argument. Perhaps as a preacher I too am afraid to look too deeply at myself. At the very least I am challenged to reassess the weight of my footsteps on the lives of others, the lives of those who come after us, the lives of those less fortunate than us in the present, the lives of species and of the planet itself.  I am challenged to tread lightly for creation, neighbours, whanau, the future.

I inevitably fail to live up to the harsh demands of my own musings when I'm confronted with the greedy man and his barn. When confronted too by the grasping man who provoked the parable in the first place. He like the two sons in the so-called prodigal son parable wanted to have his cake and eat it fast and furious. Jesus would have none of it.

I’m challenged yet again to look at my life, to wonder how better I can benefit the community around me, to thank God that in a universe where, as Paul puts it, all fall short of the glory of God, there is still forgiveness in the encounter with Jesus. One day.

Amen.



[1] See my Babylon’s Cap, 122, 125.

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