Jeremiah 29.1-7, Revelation 18

Preached Canberra Baptist Church 17^th January 2010.

For my last 4 Sundays I want to reflect on the mission challenge and pastoral context of this church. In any community there are many views, many values as to what a community is about. As someone leaving the community there is perhaps a presumption in my doing this, but I do it because I love this church and believe you are a very important Christian community. I will explore the life of this church through the metaphor of Biblical cities – four of them: Babylon, Jerusalem, Athens and Capernaum (alright – Capernaum is more of small town or village than a city). This is not an original idea: these cities (at least the first three) function as symbols in Scripture. They are archetypes of spiritual realities, symbols of the way the church is and the world is.

Today I want to focus on Living in Babylon. Babylon under Nebuchednezzar conquered Jerusalem and the people of Israel in 587BCE. It was the greatest catastrophe Israel as a nation had ever known. From the high period of Kings David and Solomon the nation had struggled along with some far less successful Kings, but they had always survived. They believed this was because God was on their side – God looked to his Holy Temple on Mt Zion within the walls Jerusalem and therefore the city would never fall.

So when Nebuchednezzar’s generals overcame the city it was more than the walls came tumbling down. National self-image was shattered, the dominant theology was destroyed, the city was put to the torch and most of the citizens of Jerusalem were carted off into captivity in Babylon. It was such a shock, such a seismic shift in Israel’s experience that Babylon became the symbolic name for every empire that ever after oppressed the people of God. Our two readings reflect the way ‘Babylon’ became the archetype of both exile and empire in Israel’s history.

The reading from Jeremiah 29 is a letter that the prophet Jeremiah wrote to the exiles of 587BCE, those shell-shocked souls who had gone to Babylon perhaps with the hope that it would soon be over, that they might be rescued, or that policy might change and they could go home. "No! Don’t believe those who are peddling false hope" said Jeremiah. "Exile, painful though it be, is your lot. Get used to it. Build houses and live in them. Plant gardens. Find yourselves partners and get married and have kids. Don’t hate Babylon, but work for the welfare of the city to which I have sent you".

The reading from Revelation comes from seven centuries later. The original Babylon has long ceased to be a power. When John the Seer, in prison on the island of Patmos, has a vision of the fall and destruction of Babylon the great, he is talking not about the great imperial power of the sixth century BCE, but the great imperial power of the 2^nd century of the Common Era, and that Imperial power was Rome.

So the experience of Babylon is the experience of EXILE and EMPIRE. What on earth do Exile and Empire have to do with the Canberra Baptist Church?

The first minister to stand in this pulpit was Dr AJ Waldock. In his report of the foundation of this church he wrote to the Baptist Union of Australia in 1929:

This was not a snipe at the congregation, but a description of the mood of the population of Canberra as a whole. The foundation of the city involved a kind of exile for all its people who were brought here from their homes in other states, other cities. Now the congregation of the Canberra Baptist Church was not immune to that experience and there was another dimension to their sense of exile and loss. They came from their home churches with their own musical styles and theological beliefs to a town where there was one Baptist church – and that unformed, shapeless, like a newborn child still to develop speech character and action. As Ken Manley writes in his History of the Baptists in Australia of the early days of Canberra Baptist Church:

Ken R Manley, From Woolloomooloo to Eternity, p. 36

I sensed just how deep that sense of, if not exile, at least displacement, was five years ago last Friday when I was interviewed by the Ministerial Search Committee of this church. We ministers are taught how to recognise genres of literature, forms of story that recur in scripture or in a particular culture. In that long day of interviews I recognized a story form that was repeated time and again. In all 30-40% of the Committee said something very similar to this:

The last bit was beautifully and carefully expressed and nowhere near as brutally as I have put it, but that was the clear subtext.

Those early Baptist exiles, and the ones who interviewed me five years ago, have taken to heart Jeremiah’s advice. They have built homes and planted gardens. They have taken wives and husbands and had families. They have worked and prayed for the welfare of this city as much as any other group. You are a community of exiles who have made a tremendous contribution to this city. You have provided police commissioners and public servants of all ranks and stations. The manual of Parliamentary practice for the Australian Parliament was written by a member of this church. A former Prime Minister was lifted out of the Cotter Dam and then booted out of the Sunday School. Without the saving hand he would never have done anything in life and without the helpful boot he might never have become Prime Minister. We have had ministers and members of this church with distinguished War service records. We have members with academic credentials of the first rank.

One of the great joys of being in this community is the living history, stories told of Prime Ministers and historic figures of the past with vitality and humour and energy because they were there. When it comes to the welfare and the shaping of this city no community has done more than Canberra Baptist Church. You are an exemplary community of exiles who have followed Jeremiah’s advice brilliantly.

But, like most communities in exile you have developed a strong culture and a way of doing things. Communities in Exile build their own rituals and customs and habits and in them there is great strength, and great joy, provided you are an insider in the culture and its rituals.

I want to share two stories of this church. I am NOT being critical. I have told them privately before but not publicly. I am not criticising anybody, nor am I saying it’s a bad thing: I am simply pointing out what these rituals and customs which are wonderful can be like when you are new to the community, when you have just become an exile yourself and are looking for a community.

In 6 or 7 weeks time we will hold the church camp. If you’ve never been BOOK IN NOW, it’s great! (I know there is a vacancy for a meat slicer on the Saturday lunch crew – that was my job.)) As I queued for my first camp lunch I heard someone say "What’s the beetroot doing up this end of the table – it’s ALWAYS down the other end near the corn". Some one else replied, "Oh, not always, back in the mid-nineties there were some new people here and they had things in different places."

My 2^nd story is this: I once told that story to a small group after the 10.30am service and a couple fairly new to the church said, "Tell us about it! We were on morning tea today and if we were told once we were told twenty times , "Oh! You’ve got the tea and coffee THIS WAY this morning. It’s always been the other way around."

These are good things in our community. They are the kinds of rituals that make us who we are and they are a great strength. They make us OLD exiles very much at home. They are part of the way we have made Babylon our native place. But for new exiles, the people who have just arrived from Adelaide, or London or Jakarta or even Gunghalin these experiences subtly reinforce the fact that they are outsiders.

Part of life in this city is the transience of many people in the Canberra community. As a group, we are mixed lot. Some families go right back to Canberra’s foundation. Others might have arrived in 2010. Those who go way back might have been exiles once, but now they really belong. Those who have just arrived can feel like exiles still, looking for a home.

How you live with this dynamic of exile I am not sure. We shouldn’t worry unduly about it. Some people feel that this talk of exile belittles the church, that we are no longer exiles. Absolutely right! But that experience of exile in the past has shaped us and marked us. Now we belong and know we belong, but the culture we built may exclude others.

What can we do? May I offer some suggestions?

1. Elect a Deacon or two who are newcomers. When they demur and say ‘I don’t really know the way you do things here’ our reply must be ‘Exactly – that’s why we need you".
2. In one of the churches I served I suggested at the AGM that we appoint a Mustering Committee. As it was a a suburban church with not farms or cattle anywhere nearby they were mystified and asked what on earth such a committee would do. I replied: "Round up all the sacred cows and put them out to pasture!"
3. Try looking out intentionally for people who are new and welcoming them, getting to know them. The power of a welcome face or an invitation to dinner can be profound.
4. And a word to those who are newcomers: try ‘kicking in a few doors’ - make yourself known. People are quite lovely and welcoming and they handle the wry smile at their strange ways with grace and good humour.

Exile – a challenge for this church for all of its first 40 years, and one that you have met and brilliantly resolved. You are living successfully in Babylon. But how will you respond to the new Exiles, those coming in from other cities, and from other cultures, including those who know nothing about church and the way we do it here at Canberra Baptist?

Let us address now the other meaning of Babylon – Babylon as a metaphor of Empire. I love Revelation 18. I love it as a piece of literature, as drama, as well as Scripture. I often think of Rev 18.11-13 when I go to Fyshwick. My wife thinks Fyshwick is a wonderful place. We used to live in the country where you might have to drive 80k that way to buy one thing you need and 50k the other way to buy the second thing you need. Fyshwick is like heaven! What can you buy in Fyshwick?

- and if you think you can’t buy a human being in Fyshwick (or at least rent one) you haven’t been paying attention!

Babylon, for John, is Rome. For us Babylon is more like Washington or New York. In fifty years time it might be Beijing or even Delhi. But for us, it is also Canberra. Our city Canberra is integrated into the imperial apparatus of the United States, of ANZUS, of the fine web of affiliations, alliances, commitments and relationships that define our place in the modern world.

When I first came the number plates we were issued read "Canberra – Feel the Power". And we do live in a centre of power. The capital of our nation. It is a potent symbol of our life as an Australian people. And the symbols are everywhere – the flag atop the Parliament in Capital Hill, the National Museum with is architecture and exhibits telling a national story, and an eagle on the highest plinth in the city, a testimony to our friendship with Empire in the heart of the defence establishment.

We live amid all that. We are living in Babylon. And for many of us we are even working in Babylon. We are public servants, involved in the process of policy formation, serving our political leaders, shaping the life of the nation and the world. Some of us are working in the fields of defence and security. Some of us carry secrets we cannot share. Some of us find ourselves at the heart of sensitive and difficult issues where we may not be comfortable but still must make decisions and seek the best outcomes we can. As a congregation we are heavily embedded in Babylon.

You don’t need to rise very far in Babylon before the ethical issues start to confront you. Early in my time here, over lunch with a young graduate on rotation in the defence and security world, I heard of that morning’s water-cooler conversation in which the general consensus had been that the best thing to do with Iran was to turn it into a carpark. What was being playfully mooted was the genocide of tens of millions of people, the destruction of one of the world’s ancient cultures and languages, the obliteration of a whole landscape and nation. Now, it’s only water-cooler talk I know, but these were the people advising our government on defence policy. How does a young Christian find their place and keep their spiritual life and values strong in such an environment. It can be very hard, literally soul-destroying, to live in Babylon when these challenges and questions confront you everyday.

I have not found it easy to support and guide people in this area. I have no expertise or even knowledge of the kinds of issues people are dealing with, or the norms of public service, or the kinds of experience and skill that one needs to gather to be able to live and work effectively within the world of empire.

I did try to convene some meetings where we might have discussion of issues between church members who worked in the same area of public policy, albeit in different departments. I could see four areas where there was an overlap of skills and experience for members of our church community: defence and the security apparatus; diplomacy and foreign affairs; aid and development; environmental issues.

Trying to convene one of those groups I found myself talking to one member of the church who said "I don’t know whether I could come and discuss that with my pastor and my Christian brothers and sisters – I may be in breach of my departmental responsibilities."

Together with the ministers of the Bloomsbury Baptist Church in London and First Baptist Church in Washington there was an initiative to plan an international conference together. In all our churches the same reality of people heavily involved in public service constituted a common theme of pastoral care. When the man who ran the committee system in the US Congress is a member of one church, and the man who ran the House of Representatives in Australia and wrote the book on how to do it is a member of another, we are missing some wonderful opportunities to share and learn and grow. But until we start to do it with each other we cannot feel out the boundaries and find out what works. Even such a simple thing as younger people in public service finding mentors among the experienced and older members of our community would be a great initiative.

Of course, as individuals and as a community do not mindlessly follow government policy. As a church we have written letters, demonstrated and advocated on a range of issues, from Aboriginal issues to refugee issues, to anti-war actions and advocacy for peace-making in various places.

But we are living in Babylon. I wonder how far we would go? Collins Street Baptist Church housed refugees on their property. When a final hearing of their application was rejected, all that was left was a ministerial reprieve – which was highly unlikely. At a church meeting the matter of breaking the law was raised – of defying the duly constituted authority of the state and hiding the family – moving them around church homes, obstructing the police, maybe keeping them in the sanctuary. They made no decisions, but it was discussed by the church. This kind of activity has been un dertaken by American churches – the famous "Underground Railway" which hid and assisted runaway slaves and illegal immigrants. They began to engage the question of running that kind of clandestine operation – but they were not living Babylon! How would we fare? What would you be feeling if Canberra Baptist Church ever came to consider such options?

Even those living and serving in Babylon need to hear the whisper of Revelation: "Fallen, Fallen, great Babylon is fallen! Rejoice over her, saints and apostles and prophets, for God has given judgment for you against her!"

This is the great tension of our life: we must "…work for the welfare of the city and pray for it"…. As Jeremiah exhorted the Exiles in Babylon. But we also have to remember that she will be judged and we are called to rejoice in her fall. This is the tremendously difficult vocation of those who are living in Babylon. As exiles you build your homes in this city and make it strong, and as those who engage the realities of Empire you are called to hear the whisper of judgment and rejoice in her destruction.

Alec Guinness played a lead role in the WW2 movie Bridge on the River Kwai. In the film American and British troops were forced to labour to build a bridge on the notorious Burma-Siam Railway.

Alec Guinness played a courageous commander who saw low morale, poor discipline, and oppression by the Japanese who despise the allied prisoners. His answer was to ‘build the bridge our way’, using British and American skill and courage. He was not building a house at the heart of Empire but a bridge. At the end of the movie the Allies send in a team to blow up the bridge. Guinness, waiting for the official opening of his great achievement sees the detonator wires and the explosives that will bring it all crashing down and raises the alarm. In the chaos and the fighting that then follows Guiness suddenly realizes what is at stake and murmurs, "What have I done? What have I done?" In his dying action falls across the detonator to destroy what he has suffered so much to create.

We are living in Babylon but where do our loyalties lie?

This is the greatest tension for our community: do we hear and hold the whisper of Revelation or are we at ease in the centre of Empire? At the end of our lives will we look back on our life in Babylon, a life when we have built houses and planted gardens and worked in her service only to cry out at the end, ‘What have I done? What have I done?"

Let us work for the welfare of the city, but also catch the whisper of Revelation, the echo of judgment so that we might be God’s people in this place, to the glory of his holy name.