Life in the midst of wilderness

Some months ago when the Worship Committee met to plan upcoming services today's second service was set aside to be an "all-age service". Since it is now autumn and the traditional time for old-fashioned Harvest services we decided to work with this theme. In recent weeks we have been asked to consider the needs again at our ecumenical venture "the Verandah", and it seemed to me that we could focus particularly on this work as we give thanks for the bounty that God provides. Although this service has a more formal format than the next, I thought we would try to keep the same focus in our worship.

It so happened that one of the Old Testament readings set out for Lent is the one read to us by Peter from Deuteronomy - the description of a type of harvest festival for the people of Israel. It is known to us as the Jewish "Firstfruits" thanksgiving festival, and is held to celebrate dependence on God for daily bread. We aren't trying to reproduce that festival here - it was to fall in early summer and was especially focused on the wheat crop, and what's more some of us are bringing the last of our harvest of tomatoes and zucchinis, but the intention is the same, to give thanks for the fruits of the earth that have come from the creator of all things.

In Deuteronomy the festival especially was to celebrate the good land that they had been brought into after wandering in the wilderness, a land "flowing with milk and honey". The contrast to the wilderness wanderings was vast - the variety and bounty of the new land is described many times in the Pentateuch: "a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees, and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, a land where you may eat bread without scarcity, where you will lack nothing". While they were wandering in the wilderness, sometimes short even of water, they were sustained by manna that had to be gathered, ground, boiled and made into cakes daily, day after day. So they had every reason to give thanks for a good lush and fertile land after the monotony of life in the wilderness.

Our second reading is the one set for this week's ecumenical Lenten studies - the story of Lazarus dead in the tomb while Jesus lingered on the other side of the country. It tantalises us as a first fruits story too - the resurrection of Lazarus being a startling and courageous act by a man who was already in danger for his life and a prelude to his own death and resurrection. It is a story of new life from death, a challenge to believe the unbelievable, to let the impossible become possible, an opportunity for Martha's great expression of faith in the next sentence of the gospel following where our reading stopped: "yes Lord I believe you are the Messiah, the Son of God."

Both readings are about God speaking a good word; God sustaining a good world. Both invite us to add our confession of faith to those who have spoken before: "the Lord heard our voice. and brought us into this land", "Yes, Lord, I believe". A good word for a good world.

But let us reflect on some statistics:

If you don't suffer from malnutrition you are better off than 50% of the world's population.

If you can read you are better off than 70% of the world's population.

If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep you are richer than 75% of the world's population.

If the house you live in is not sub-standard you are better off than 80% of the world's population.

If you have money in the bank, some in your wallet and spare change in a dish somewhere you are richer than 92% of the world's population.

If your family owns a computer you are more fortunate than 99% of the world's population.

As we recount figures that we are already well aware of, we wonder if this really is a good world, and if we or even our scriptures really do have a good word to speak into it. What does it mean for us to give thanks and celebrate God's bountiful goodness in the midst of a suffering world where so many have so little?

Let us go back to our readings:

The book of Deuteronomy describes the people of Israel when they are still on the edge of the wilderness, almost but not quite in the promised land. It is basically a law code told in story form, where Moses give them a set of stipulations to be their guide in their new way of life. The book begins like this: "these are the words Moses spoke to all Israel in the wilderness." The reading we heard starts "when you have come into the land." In other words, the good land, the land flowing with milk and honey, is goodness they anticipate while they are still in the wilderness.

And at that point they hardly need reminding of their history: that they were in the wilderness because they had fled Egypt where they were oppressed and downtrodden. They had been led by their God in the knowledge that God was on the side of the oppressed. So the law concerning the first fruits goes on immediately to say that they were to share out of their bounty with the stranger, the orphan and the widow. God's first concern was to be their first concern. They were to care for those who were suffering just as God had cared for them when they were suffering.

And what about the New Testament. This is a great story of restoration to life, but remember that when Jesus came to raise Lazarus, he had already been dead for four days. His sisters and friends were already in mourning. Martha put into words what they were wall thinking. "If you had been here my brother would not have died". Hardship and suffering was a reality before the hope for new life. Yet as we read the story in John the delay of Jesus seems to be part of the plan, to show God's love and concern.

So perhaps the message is one of new life in the midst of suffering; new hope in the midst of wilderness.

Our songs today focus us on God's goodness in creation, God's presence in all things bright and beautiful. But there is a valid question which comes up in the Lenten Study this week, asking if God's presence is not most known in suffering?

And isn't it true that we take God's goodness for granted so often? We have beauty all around us, but we complain about our untidy houses. We have more than enough food and drink, but we wonder each night what to make for dinner. We have shelter and clothing and warmth, but we allow ourselves to believe we need a bigger house, or up to date fashions. Our fortunate lives are so often the cause of dissatisfaction and we forget to thank God for what we have. Yet when we go through hard times and are ministered to by our friends and community we are specially aware of God's presence with us, the enabling power of God's spirit and the calming peace that sustains us. So perhaps it is true that God becomes a greater reality through times of suffering.

This seemed to be the experience of Israel according to the Old Testament - so often they were seduced by the good gifts of the land and they forgot God who had given it to them. It wasn't until they were at war or in exile that they recognised their need for God.

This is why the instructions for keeping festivals so often took the focus away from the natural elements and placed it on their history. The statement of faith in Deuteronomy 26 was ground in their history.

"A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous. When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor on us, we cried to the LORD, the God of our ancestors; the LORD heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. The LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; and he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey." (26:5-9)

By commanding each individual to recite this as they brought the goodness of God's bounty to the temple, they would be protected from becoming complacent in their new found security and well-being. The confession reminded them that they had been a people who were wandering, alien, treated harshly, afflicted, toiling, oppressed, and lost in the wilderness for 40 years. Even though they were promised milk and honey, in the background was their history of hardship and dependence on a God who cared for the oppressed. The new life of plenty had only come after a long and painful journey. Their care for the stranger, orphan and widow would keep this focus in mind too.

The message of Lent and Easter is that new life is possible in the midst of suffering. In John's gospel Jesus speaks of his betrayer in chapter 6, and already in chapter 7 are officers sent to arrest him. It is clear even at such an early stage of the story that he will suffer. This does not stop Jesus from setting out towards Jerusalem. But on the way we are reminded that new life is possible. His ministry is affirmed in the transfiguration. Last week we heard about parties and celebration in the presence of the bridegroom. And this story of Lazarus - a joyful restoration to friends and family - a celebration of new life. Matthew's gospel has another echo of this even as he describes Jesus' death on the cross. He says that tombs were opened and the bodies of saints were raised at the very moment of the death of Christ (Mt 27:52).

But the one who offers new life in the midst of suffering also asks us to participate in the dark side of life, to "take up our cross," in other words to be prepared to follow the same self-giving love that Jesus showed.

There are many times when we are challenged to give more of ourselves. Today the challenge focuses on the work of the Verandah at Stuart Flats. We are asked to share out of our bounty with those who have greater needs than us. The giving of ourselves may mean regularly providing money or groceries, it may mean more than that to actually giving of our time, or it may mean being a person who has vision and energy for a creative ministry there. But there are other areas of need in this church and in the wider community. There will always be an opportunity to share if you are willing.

There is a moving story that I shared with the Crafty Fingers group a few weeks ago - the father of a disabled child wanted to believe that God had created a perfect world, but couldn't reconcile that with the disability of his child. But he was able to answer his own anguished question "where is God's perfection" when he recounted the story of his son being included in a baseball game. The boy became the hero of the game when both teams willingly conspired to throw inaccurately and run more slowly, allowing the boy to make a home run and bring victory to his team. The joy and self-satisfaction of the child at the kindness of the two teams of boys led the father to conclude "when God brings a child like this into the world, the perfection he seeks is in the way people react to this child."

The goodness of God's perfect world is enhanced by our reaction to it. Will we take it for granted, use and sometimes abuse it, or will we recognise our dependence on God with gratitude, even worship, and share of our bounty with the needy of the world?

What does it mean to give thanks and celebrate God's goodness to us in the midst of a suffering world? It can only mean something if it leads us to action. We can give, we can share, we can make time to do something for others even if we aren't quickly rewarded for it. And we can pray for others; as the Lenten study puts it, pray for those who grieve without hope.

And we can be thankful. Thankful that we are part of a community of faith which stretches back through the centuries and encourages us as we seek to be disciples in our beautiful and suffering world. As we move through this season of Lent and look towards Easter, we can be thankful that our faith asks us to hold the realities of life and death, suffering and hope together. As we walk the road to Jerusalem let us do so remembering that our life of faith includes sorrow and joy, work and rest, decay and creativity. And as we walk may we have at the back of our minds, and held in front as our vision, the hope of the resurrection.

Jeanette Mathews, 18/3/01