Canberra Baptist Church

Sunday 29 November 2020 – A Wild Ride

Canberra Baptist Church — Sat, 28 Nov 2020 23:00:00 +0000

Mark 13

Talk to my children and they will tell you I am not a fan of wild rides. Talk to them a little longer and they will tell you what I call a ‘wild ride’ is pretty tame. And then you won’t be able to stop them. They’ll be off, telling you a series of stories about rollercoasters, and how embarrassing it is to have me as a mother. Stories which – thanks to what the roller coaster industry does – are substantiated by images like this…

It might rehabilitate my reputation to tell them I once had a boyfriend who rode a motorbike, but I wasn’t a big fan of that either. You had to wear jeans everywhere, it was cold coming home at night, and I was always in trouble for leaning the wrong way. Apparently, when you are taking a corner on a motorbike you must lean in – not lean the other way to balance the bike. That relationship did not last.

Mark chapter 13, where our lectionary reading comes from this morning, is also a wild ride.

It starts tamely enough with the disciples and Jesus in Jerusalem, with the disciples openly admiring Herod the Great’s greatly expanded temple. “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” But then it’s off and racing with Jesus first describing the total destruction of the temple, then wars and rumours of wars and earthquakes and famines, followed by persecution, families turning against each other, and a desolating sacrilege and false prophets. And then in the section we read; the sun and moon being darkened, and the Son of Man coming in the clouds and the significance of fig trees and the need to keep alert and keep awake….!

It’s hard to imagine anyone could sleep after all that!

And it’s very hard to imagine what all this, on this first Sunday of Advent, has to do with hope.

The reality is that the period this passage is describing was a wild ride for the Jewish people. It relates the years of the Jewish revolt, 66-70 AD, which ended with the Romans starving out the people of Jerusalem and burning and destroying the temple and the city, killing thousands of civilians and armed rebels and enslaving thousands as gladiators or slave labour. The Arch of Titus found on the Via Sacra in Rome memorialises this victory over the Jewish rebellion.

And what the commentators say is that this speech in Mark is crisis literature or apocalyptic literature, spoken in the voice of Jesus, but written decades later, after these events had occurred. And following the conventions of apocalyptic literature, it is wild! It speaks of the end times, it uses colourful and sometimes encoded language, it borrows apocalyptic motifs from the Old Testament, from Isaiah and Daniel…but, as Professor David Jacobsen, Boston University School of Theology writes, “The purpose of Jesus’ apocalyptic discourse in Mark is not scary, but a call to a praxis of wakefulness….Mark’s Jesus gives an apocalyptic speech in the early 1st CE for a church needing a word in a late 1st CE crisis.” This passage is for Mark’s community – and possibly even for us - a word of hope.

But I want to reframe what Jacobsen calls a ‘praxis of wakefulness’ and what the passage says – repeatedly – “Beware, keep alert…..be on the watch….keep awake.” I know its a metaphor, but from personal experience, I also know that constantly being awake and alert is not good for you. It does not lead to the kind of ‘wakefulness’ Jesus calls us to here. Instead I want to borrow the words of my ex-boyfriend and talk about ‘leaning in’. This is what the writer of Mark is saying to his community. On this wild ride, you must lean in…lean in to hope.

Firstly, Mark says, you must lean into reality, and into your vulnerability in that reality. Yes, there will be wars and rumours of wars. Political events and natural events will affect you. Yes, there is going to be opposition – painful opposition. And yes, sadly, there will be division – even among the community of faith. You are human and, therefore, vulnerable, but just as surely, just as certainly, you will be sustained by the Holy Spirit even in the darkest of times, and on the other side of that darkness there will be a gathering of the fragmented community, from the ends of the earth; new life signalled by new growth bursting from fig trees.

I am reminded of the psalms of lament we’ve been examining; testimonies to honest-to-God wrestling with pain and questions, and the pain of the world; leaning into the reality of what is before moving to expressions of joy and praise.

Secondly, Mark says, the community of faith must lean into ‘not knowing’; ‘not knowing’ how long the present situation will last; not being tempted to invent our own timeline. As Professor William Loader writes, “2000 years of failed guesses and expectations have sobered such predictions.”

And, finally, Mark says, the community of faith must keep leaning in… keep watching for the signs of God’s presence, keep waiting for their fulfilment and keep doing the will and the work of God. “All too often,” Loader continues, “[comes] a withdrawal from the events of the world, not to speak from the cries of pain, so that not much watching really happens except watching one’s private footsteps and moral goodness….It makes for an attractive religion, but it has little to do with eh engaged alertness which recognises the new leaves, feels the shaking, and sees what the powers of this world are doing.”

I am struck that both our psalm this morning and Isaiah 64, the other Old Testament lectionary reading for today, call on God to act. “Stir up your might and come and save us,” says the psalm. “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,” begins Isaiah 64. But Mark calls on his community to stir, to be stirred up, to wake, to work, to reveal God’s presence in God’s apparent absence, to keep leaning into God’s way of love in the world.

And this message of leaning in, of hope, is not just a message for Mark’s community, but for us because we, too, have had a wild ride this year.

Haven’t we! Bushfires, smoke, hail, pandemic, lockdown, economic uncertainty, church on Zoom, you name it.

This week I was sent a video which seemed to me a modern retelling of Mark’s message of leaning in on this wild ride – from a couple who performed this for the Actors Theatre of Louisville, Kentucky, virtual program this year, earning them a New York Time’s critics pick – speaking of leaning into the reality of what is, leaning into ‘not knowing’ and discovering, as they say, “we are making this up as we go” , and leaning into keeping on going. It’s called, appropriately, The Keep Going Song.

On our wild ride, let’s keep leaning into what is and our vulnerability knowing God is with us. Let’s keep leaning into ‘not knowing’ knowing we have to make it up and keep making it up as we go. And keep leaning into God’s way of love in our world.

With the writer of Mark and with Abigail and Shaun Bengson, we pray:

I pray my rage is a fire that cleans my mind out and makes me ready to listen.

I pray my pain is a river that flows to the ocean that connects my pain to yours.

I pray my happiness is like pollen that flies to you and pollinates your joy.

Amen.

Sunday 11 October 2020

Canberra Baptist Church — Sat, 10 Oct 2020 23:00:24 +0000

Sunday 4 October 2020 – The Ownership Contest

Canberra Baptist Church — Sat, 03 Oct 2020 23:00:33 +0000

Rev. John Morrison _____________________________________________________________________________________ Reading Matthew 21:33-46 (NRSV) Introduction Jesus told many wonderful parables during his 3 years of public ministry. Today we are looking at one of them, often called the Parable of the Wicked Tenants. I’m inclined to call it the Parable of Contested Ownership though, for reasons which I hope will become obvious before I finish. I think this is one of the most important parables of Jesus. I’m not lauding its significance just because I like it and I think it’s a great parable. The Gospel writers themselves rated it as extremely important. There are only a few parables that occur in all 3 Synoptic Gospels. Most parables occur in just one Gospel, even some of the best-known favourites such as the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan. But this parable is in Matthew and Mark and Luke. Each of them thought their account of Jesus’ life and teaching just had to include this parable, and we’ll see why. Eugene Peterson, who compiled the Message Bible, also wrote a book called “The Contemplative Pastor”. In there he describes parables as time bombs. He says people would have initially seen them as casual, interesting stories about everyday life. With their defences down, these stories would steal into their hearts and imaginations. But then would come the “Ah-ha!” moment when the meaning and relevance of the story explodes like a time bomb. They realise that Jesus was actually talking about them and God. The parables were meant to blast people into new awareness and new understandings and transformed lives. That’s certainly the case with this one, though the time fuse is shorter than with most.1 The Parable The owner of the vineyard in this parable is God. The vineyard is a common Old Testament image for the people of God, the Jews. The tenants are the Jewish leaders who in the past had mistreated and killed God’s messengers (the Prophets) and who in Jesus’ day were wanting to get rid of the owner’s son (Jesus himself). Through this parable Jesus makes some startling claims and predictions.

Firstly, he is obviously claiming to be the Son of God, sent on a special mission by God, with the authority of God. He had made that claim numerous times before and the religious leaders had rejected it. In fact, they had accused him of blasphemy and had plotted to silence him. Yet he continues to assert his divinity.
Secondly, he predicts his death.

V39 of the parable: “So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him.” Jesus says this to the very ones who are wanting to get rid of him. As we see at the end of the passage (v45,46), they are not at all contrite. They continue their resolve to arrest Jesus.

Thirdly, he pronounces judgement on them.

In fact, they virtually pronounce judgement on themselves first. Because Jesus asks them what the vineyard owner will do when he comes (v40). They reply (v41): “He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at harvest time.” Jesus says the owner of the vineyard will indeed come and take the vineyard from them and give it to new tenants who produce the fruit of the kingdom. Jesus is shifting the focus from Israel alone to the whole world. He is heralding the great turning point of salvation history when the Kingdom of God would be opened to the Gentiles. Since then there has been a new Israel of God composed all people with faith in God, for which we are eternally grateful.

The fourth statement that I want to draw your attention to is in v42 where Jesus says:

“The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” This is actually a quote from Psalm 118:22, which is the most quoted verse in the New Testament. At first sight it might seem a bit strange for Jesus to say that at this point in the conversation. It does however continue that theme of rejection. The vineyard owner’s son was rejected by the tenants, and the stone was rejected by the builders. I think there’s a more compelling rationale though. There’s a problem with this parable. As so often with parables, it is unable to tell the whole story or contain the totality of the glorious truth. In the parable, it is not possible for the son who has been killed to come back to life. But Jesus wanted to foreshadow not just his death, but his resurrection as well, as he had done on other occasions. And so he quotes this verse that tells about the rejected stone becoming the most important stone of all. His resurrection is implied. The other places in the New Testament where this verse is quoted also make that point. Stewardship As important as those 4 assertions from Jesus are, I think there was a more general challenge that he was wanting to bring through this parable. He wasn’t just wanting to state his sonship again, or predict his death, judgement, and his resurrection. I think stewardship is central to this parable. I’m not just talking about money when I use that term but using it in the broadest sense – seeing ourselves a steward, not the owner; as a servant, not the master. That’s the challenge that Jesus blasts the chief priests and Pharisees with. It’s one that goes to the very core of our attitudes, motivations, priorities and allegiances. And it’s a challenge that the parable still confronts us with today. The attitude of the wicked tenants is all too prevalent today. We see it in how tightly we grasp things and want to own and control them – relationships, time, the home we live in, money, our job. Hull McGee, an American preacher, says this: “Motivated by ownership, we do the same thing, don’t we?... My, how tightly we grip to what we have, thinking it’s ours to hoard and protect and control rather than a gift to be shared and used and given back… How painlessly we become sharecroppers who lord over a kingdom that’s not our own nor ours to own, going to all lengths to remove any threat that crosses the vineyard fence.” 2 Amongst the many implications of this kind of attitude is an environmental one. I mention this especially seeing today is the end of Season of Creation. Here’s a helpful comment from Bruce Prewer, the late Australian Pastor and writer whose book “Australian Psalms” will be known to many of you. “The bottom line of the parable is clear: God is the owner who has built up this world from nothing. There is no other owner. It belongs solely to God. We are only like tenants, or share farmers, or stewards within this vulnerable creation… Whenever we forget our significant yet lowly position, we are in trouble and so is the vineyard. If we puff ourselves up and get sucked into the delusion that we are masters of this world, then we become a destructive force. No longer are we a blessing but a blight on the earth.” 3 Conclusion What kind of tenant are you? Are you like the original tenants, the wicked tenants,

failing to supply the fruit the owner asks for?
rejecting the owner’s authority and rightful claims?
working for yourself without acknowledging any other boss but yourself?

Or are you like the new tenants? Actually, the parable doesn’t tell us what the new tenants are like. We hope or even assume they will be better, but will they? The parable is open-ended in that way. That’s because we are the new tenants and the story is still ongoing. The outcome will depend on our stewardship. I close with a one sentence thought provoker from Barbara Brown Taylor: “The tenants killed the son too but he would not stay dead and to this day he is still haunting the vineyard, reminding us that we are God’s guests — welcome on this earth and welcome to it so long as we remember whose it is and how it is to be used.” 4 Endnotes

Sunday 27 September 2020 – Move over, make room.

Canberra Baptist Church — Sun, 27 Sep 2020 00:00:06 +0000

Philippians 2:1-13 This passage from Philippians invites us to reflect on the virtue of humility. But I have to confess I struggle with the actual living out of this virtue – at least in a consistent and deepening manner. Can I suggest that maybe we all experience the same. I do know that life’s formative experiences carry messages about what it means to express humility in our network of relationships with others. Those early messages have a habit of sticking with us. They have the power to become the default settings that stay with us unless displaced by other models. I was raised by loving and caring parents who left me with worthy models of self-respect, living out the courage of one’s convictions, accepting personal responsibility, working hard according to one’s ability … but if there was any formal instruction on humility, it was not in words but by their own stance toward others which came to them from their own very different upbringing. My mother came from a well to do family from a rural town. She lived in one of, if not the nicest homes. Her father had ‘status’ as did her mother via memory of the social connections in the old country. Mum was private school educated, a loving mum but she knew who should look up to her and show respect. Dad had little formal education having been forced to leave home when he was 15. He knew what it meant to make one’s own way in life and clearly imbibed the Australian attitude of ‘Jack’s as good as his master’. Dad didn’t let others push him around. He was anything but aggressive but he knew how to stand his ground. I suspect we all have our stories about how we came to have a mindset about humility. I say ‘mindset’ because Paul, in this passage keeps referring to having a particular mind (re humility): be of the same mind, being in full accord and of one mind (v.2) Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, (v.5) A mindset, an embedded stance that expresses a humble presence carrying the possibilities of setting the tone for all personal encounters. A stance so deeply embedded that it displaces all other natural inclinations. The passage is one of the great Christological passages in the New Testament. Passages like this have been the Church’s source for the formulation of the creeds and other affirmations concerning the person and work of Jesus Christ. For instance 1 Cor. 8:6 affirms Christ’s pre-existence with the Father yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist. And Colossians 1:15-20 which among many affirmations includes that in Him “all things hold together” and that “through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.” But the Philippians passage feels a bit different to a lot of the other Christological passages. It even looks different. It looks like a hymn that you’d find in the hymnal. And, the scholars are pretty well agreed that it is exactly that. Probably not something Paul wrote but that he employed in his appeal to the people at Philippi. But more than looking a bit different, it reads differently. It (at least vs 5-11) has a certain narrative quality – almost an attempt to take the listener/reader into the inner processes of Jesus as he approached the Cross. The significance of the passage has been identified by the framers of the Church’s lectionary as being so significant that it appears in every year of the 3 year cycle as the epistle reading for Palm Sunday, and then once again in Year A for today’s reading. It’s there for us on Palm Sunday as we head into Holy Week, helping us step slowly through the movement of Jesus toward the events of the Cross and the empty tomb. But, can I suggest, this Palm Sunday reading focusses attention on the quality of the self-offering – a quality that is caught up in the key word, kenosis, (self-emptying) in verse 7 of the reading … though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, (Vs 6,7) This humility that Paul is speaking about is not the sort of humility that comes immediately to mind when we hear the scenario of being invited to a meal and wondering where to sit … go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, “Friend, move up higher”. Jesus was not suggesting that this is an honourable expression of humility. Rather it seems he was seeking to subvert that very self-serving appearance of humility for the benefit of others. Unfortunately that hasn’t stopped the Church’s elevation of that sort of humility. A subservience, especially for women who have been encouraged to adopt a sort of ‘doormat’ deference has explained a great deal of domestic violence over the centuries which is still with us in too many places. Paul is not speaking of this as simply a virtue to be admired and worked hard at acquiring: “Jesus was humble, so we Christians should try and be humble, too”. Paul won’t have anything to do with a life that focusses on acquiring an endless collection of supposedly Christian virtues. This humility is gentle and understanding but also tough edged, hard working. It gives space to the other, but it means business as well. A humility that can go the distance, a humility that relinquishes, rejects that need to win at all costs that wants to get things done, to resolve difference by sheer application of will and determination). Karl Barth suggested that this hymns’ appeal was “the heart of the Pauline ethic”. Paul talks of ‘having this mind’ (among you). He is seems he is suggesting that there is a “mindedness”, an embedded disposition … a stance that is nourished and energised by relationship. There is, he says, a way of “minding” an approach to life, to others, to self, to God which characterises those who are “in Christ”. I carry a picture of the humility that seems to have been embodied in the little man, Dom Helder Camara, one time Bishop of Recife in Argentina, who visited Australia in 1985. I recall listening to comments made by Margaret Throsby of (then) ABC Classic FM who happened to be attending that Melbourne gathering. As soon as she saw this diminutive figure come to the lectern, she recalled how struck she was by the compelling attractiveness of this man. A winsome and peaceful presence, humble and yet outgoing … But no obsequious self-abnegation but a hard-edged humility that was able to speak truth to power but lay aside the options of power that his office afforded. (Not so the man who followed him as bishop. He quickly made use of the bishop’s purple ceremonial dress, travelled in the limousine that was available and was housed in luxury.) By contrast (from an obituary …) “A tiny figure, barely five feet tall, Dom Helder rejected the pomp and ceremony of his rank. He always wore a battered brown cassock, adorned only by a simple wooden cross… a wizened brown face, battered by years of exposure to the harsh sun of the drought- ravaged north-east. I remember, above all, his gentleness and his concern for everything in the world around him, including its animals and plants (which had earned him the nickname of St Francis).” (From his obituary) Well, we all have those figures who come to mind. You may, in your own mind, find that such a picture of this humility is found in other characters: the Dalai Lama, or Desmond Tutu, Simone Weil, Mother Teresa. Having said all that and knowing the outward appearance of this deep humility there has to be more to the story. Admiring the humility of others takes us only so far. We have to know something of the inner process that nourishes, that feeds, the “in Christ” reality. Can I suggest some key elements? There will be a recognition of cost: A downward movement? “Regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.” Pause a moment, would you, and consider what interests of others there may be near to hand that would require you to “move over”, even a bit. This quality of humility doesn’t come to us without struggle but the more it operates, the more there is a willingness, even a desire, to make space for “otherness”: a willingness to make room, to relinquish what I too easily count as my own possession (my own ‘ground’ as my father would have said) thanks to education, physical strength, gender, position authority or age. Humility reminds me to be calm in the face of opposing ideas, refusing to reach for the weapons of accumulated knowledge and experience, or my orthodoxy that gives me the confidence that “I know”! There is an unmistakable downward journey that Paul speaks about. And going downward runs counter to our desire to be upwardly mobile. There will be an inward journey: OT scholar Bonnie Thurston says on this passage: Christ did not “give himself away without first possessing himself.” As the passage says he knew his identity, knew who he was … Who though he was in the form of God did not regard equality with God a thing to be exploited” … (v.6) Humility invites a true and grounded vision of oneself, and that suggests a self-awareness that how I see myself in the world often owes a great deal more to my ego than it does to reality. That inward journey is one of honest reflection and prayer. It is a slow and deliberate process. It’s a process not of self-improvement through gritted teeth. The process is spiritual and the enabling is “in Christ”. There will be an outward attentiveness. Paul has in mind disputes between people within the community that have spilled over into the community as a whole and caused disruption (4:2). But there is a world beyond our individual personal encounters that longs for healing, reconciliation, peace and community wellbeing. And let me suggest that humility (of the sort that is gathered up in this “kenotic hymn”) holds in the imagination a future for the world, for humanity and for the non-human as a harmonious realm, a coming together of the best of all possible goods. It rules out nothing as an obstacle to a reconciliation that keeps listening to the other’s perspective and searches relentlessly for ways to find common ground. But that attractive image of the harmonious realm is secured in increments as humility bears the costs of making room for the “other” … open to the possibility that this “other” may actually have a greater, truer grasp of the complexities of life, of God’s being and presence than do I. Humility tells me to be calm in the face of opposing ideas, refusing to reach for the weapons of my orthodoxy to protect that which “I know, (or think I know) to be ultimate truth”. With this way of being in the world there are no guaranteed outcomes. Karl Barth summed it up in the words, “The grave of Christ was a cave not a tunnel.” Christ acted on our behalf without view of gain. A spiritual journey but with real world outcomes at stake. And there is a great deal at stake, especially for this community which has as one of its goals … “to build an inclusive and caring community”. When we gather at the table we enact that wildness in the generosity of God displayed in Jesus’ embrace of those who were “awkwardly other” for the Jews of his day: the tax gathers, the Gentiles, the people of questionable morals, the Samaritans, the Roman occupiers and so on. Yes, an “open and caring community” that needs to keep plunging deeper and deeper into what that entails: a sharing in Christ’s own humility. (this) mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, May it be so.

Sunday 20 September 2020 – Queues

Canberra Baptist Church — Sun, 20 Sep 2020 00:00:11 +0000

Matthew 20:1-16, Psalm 145:1-8 If there is one thing that my husband Aron most dislikes, it is standing in queues. He can tell you many traumatic stories of queues he has had to stand in. So, even before we get to the part in this parable where the landowner pays his workers the same regardless of the work they have done, something that seems outrageous, Aron would have taken a set against it because of the queue. Verse 8: “When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the labourers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’” I, however, have a different attitude to queues. Sometimes I see them as a challenge. How can I maximise my chances of getting to the front? But I also tend to believe a queue means whatever is at the other end is worth queueing for, so I am happy to queue for it too. What are the workers in this parable queuing for? This is where we find a range of different interpretations. Literally they are receiving a denarius which the NRSV translates for us as ‘the usual daily wage’, but in the parable, what does ‘the usual daily wage’ represent? Some interpret it spiritually as God’s gift of eternal life to us. Jesus is speaking about heaven, they say. When we die we will all receive the same reward, regardless of whether we served God all our lives or made a deathbed confession of faith. Others interpret this parable in more down-to-earth economic terms as promoting a human-centred economy over a wage-centred one. Some even suggest we should preach against the perfidy of a landowner who exploits the workforce and frustrates their attempts to unionise and demand fair wages! But between the two, the spiritual and the economic, is a reading which for me ties in with how Jewish thinking uses the image of the vineyard, to represent Israel, and how Jesus uses the image of the vineyard to represent the in-breaking reign of God. “The kingdom of heaven is like this…” Jesus says, and takes a familiar scene, of day labourers waiting in the town centre for work and gives it a storytelling spin with this schematic hiring throughout the day; at sunrise, at nine, at midday, at three, and even at 5pm, one hour before knock-off time. And with the landowner’s subsequent outrageous behaviour, paying all his workers the same, Jesus indicates that relationships within God’s kingdom are not determined by positional power, but by the kind of self-giving love and love-filled generosity that Jesus demonstrated for us. And the writer of Matthew emphasises this by positioning this parable between Jesus declaring wealth to be a barrier to entering the kingdom; and James and John (and their mother) being told that unlike the rulers of the day, “whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first…must be your slave.” And by bracketing the parable either side with the reversal saying, “But many who are first will ne last, and the last will be first.” Or, “So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”. For Jesus, the parable defends his inclusion of those traditionally considered not worthy (i.e. tax collectors and sinners) as members of the kingdom of God. For the writer of Matthew this passage may also be a way of welcoming Gentile converts into a predominantly Jewish Christianity. For us, as Jesus’ followers today continuing to live into the different values of the kingdom of God, this parable informs us, too, against the dangers of positional power, and reveals how radically God values each one of us. If you’ve done Safe Church training in this church you might remember an exercise we did on positional power; asking everyone to get into order of when they arrived at Canberra Baptist, those who had been here the longest at the beginning and the most recent arrivals at the end, or in order of age or in order of years of education. These are all very often determiners of positional power and the point of the exercise was to make us more aware of our positional power when we interact with children and vulnerable people. Now we can’t repeat that positional power exercise this morning, but thinking about the 12-hour work day described in the parable, I want you to consider how long you have been part of the Christian community and to equate it to when, in the parable, you might be said to have ‘started work in the vineyard’. So if you have been part of the faith community virtually all your life, like I have, you might say 6am (or 6:30am just to be safe) or if you joined the church mid-way through your life, 12pm, or just recently, perhaps 5pm. What time did you start work? This parable has rather severe things to say to those who, like me, started work early. It describes a queue being formed, not with those who were first at the front – that’s the first surprise - but with those who started last. Then everyone is paid the same and the first are outraged. Not because the payment is unfair - that’s not what they say - but because the landowner has made those who came last “equal to us” who came first. In the community of faith, we must guard against letting the length of time we have belonged keep us from allowing others to belong. God values all of us fully as members of the kingdom of God. Secondly the parable touches on how much we have done, the effort we have put in for God’s kingdom. Perhaps the writer of Matthew is picking up on Peter’s comment to Jesus, chapter 19, verse 27; “Look, we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?” In the parable the early workers say, “We have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat!” I am reminded of an Italian parable that is told about the apostle Peter. Of Jesus asking the disciples to pick up a stone and carry it, and Peter, not wanting to burden himself, picking up just a small pebble, but that evening Jesus turns the stones to bread and Peter has only one small mouthful for dinner. So on another occasion when Jesus asks the disciples to pick up a stone, Peter – not to be caught out – picks up a huge stone and toils all day with it in his pack until, near evening, Jesus leads the disciples up to a cliff where he instructs them to throw their stones into the sea. “What is this about, Jesus!” said Peter angrily. “I carried that stone all day for you – all day in the hot burning sun.” “Did you carry the stone for me, Peter,” Jesus replies, “Or did you carry it for yourself?” The parable reminds us that we do this work for God, not for reward, for a God who loves and values all of us fully as members of the kingdom of God. Finally, and this is very challenging for us, the parable reminds us that God fully values all of us irrespective of the ways we human beings measure and value capacity. At 5pm, the parable says, the landowner went back to the marketplace and found people standing there, and there’s a note of gruffness in how he addresses them, “What are you doing here standing around all day.” And the answer is very simple, “No one has hired us.” In a world of market thinking these are those who our society does not value – perhaps it is the old or the young, those with disabilities, those who don’t look so presentable, those with the troubled pasts that Tara’s Angels works with – and yet this parable tells us that all of these are loved and valued fully as members of the kingdom of God. There’s a wonderful story told by Daniel Montgomery in his book Proof: Finding Freedom Through the Intoxicating Joy of Irresistible Grace about taking his eight-year-old daughter, who had previously been adopted by another family, to Disney World. For one reason or another, he writes, when our daughter’s previous family vacationed at Disney World, they took their biological children with them, but they left their adopted daughter with a family friend. Usually — at least in the child’s mind — this happened because she did something wrong that precluded her presence on the trip. And so, by the time we adopted her, she had seen many pictures of Disney World and she had heard about the rides and the characters and the parades. But when it came to passing through the gates of the Magic Kingdom, she had always been the one left on the outside. And so, once I found out about this history, I made plans to take her to Disney World the next time a speaking engagement took me to Florida. And I thought, he writes, I had mastered the Disney World drill. I knew that people dressed freakishly oversized mouse and duck costumes could sometimes urns children into squirming bundles of emotional instability but what I didn’t expect was the stream of downright devilish behaviour in our newest daughter. In the month leading up to our trip, she stole food, she lied, she whispered insults carefully crafted to hurt her siblings as deeply as possible — and, as the trip grew closer, her behaviour got worse. A few days before our family we left for Florida, I pulled our daughter into my lap to talk about the latest incident. “I know what you’re going to do,” she stated flatly. “You’re not going to take me to Disney World, are you?” The thought hadn’t actually crossed my mind, but her downward spiral suddenly started to make some sense. I’m embarrassed to admit that, in that moment, I was tempted to turn her fear to my own advantage and say, “You’re right. If you don’t start behaving better, we won’t take you” — but, by God’s grace, I didn’t. Instead, I asked her, “Is this trip something we’re doing as a family?” She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “Are you part of this family?” She nodded again. “Then you’re going with us. Yes, there will be consequences because of what you’ve done, but you are part of our family, and we’re not leaving you behind.” Montgomery writes, I’d like to say her behaviour got better from that moment, but it didn’t. Her choices spiralled out of control all the way to Lake Buena Vista. Still, we headed to Disney World and it was a typical Disney day; overpriced tickets, overpriced meals, and lots of lines, mingled with just enjoyment to consider going again someday maybe. But in our hotel room that evening, a very different child emerged. She was exhausted and a little weepy at times, but her month-long façade of rebellion had faded. At bedtime, I prayed with her, gave her a hug, and asked, “So how was your first day at Disney World?” She closed her eyes and there was a moments silence and then she opened her eyes again. “Daddy,” she said, “I finally got to go to Disney World. But it wasn’t because I was good; it’s because I’m yours.” It wasn’t because I was good; it’s because I’m yours. I suspect there’s another reason why we are so concerned as human beings about where we sit in the queue and why we must maintain our positional power, and that is that deep within us there is a lurking fear that God has only so much mercy to pour out, so much grace to give, so much love to go around…but the message of this parable is that however ungrateful, however badly behaved, however underserving God’s pours out mercy and grace and love on all of us. God is a generous God. God loves and values each of us fully as members of the community of God because we are God’s children. We belong to God. Before we join together in responsive reading and a singing of our next hymn, let’s take a moment to reflect on God’s generous mercy and grace and love for us.

Sunday 13 September 2020 – How did Moses Cross the Red Sea

Canberra Baptist Church — Sun, 13 Sep 2020 00:00:39 +0000

Exodus 14: 19-31, Psalm 114 If you spent any time at all in Sunday School you probably know a song that posed the question, “How did Moses cross the Red Sea?” There’s a lot going for this song. It does that great thing for engaging an audience, especially a younger audience, of allowing them to become the experts, “Did he swim? No, no! Did he sail? No, no. Did he fly? No, no, no, no.” And there’s the hook with the rhyming, onomatopoeic sounds, “God blew with his wind, puff, puff, puff, puff. He blew just enough, nuf, nuf, nuf, nuf.” And finally, the answer! “And through the sea, God made a path, that’s how he got across.” But reflecting on this passage this week it seemed to me there were several other answers for ‘how did Moses (and the Israelites) cross the Red Sea’ too! After all, this is not a straightforward text! Scholars tell us it was woven together from different narrative strands, revealed by the different descriptions of how the waters part, driven back by a strong east wind in one strand and dramatically separated in another, or how the Egyptians came to drown, disoriented by the pillar of cloud and swept into the sea or trapped by returning sea waters. And I am not referring to scientific explanations for how this scriptural event could have taken place. This is not the focus of the writers of the Hebrew Scriptures. Their focus is on what these stories, this text, say about God’s relationship with Israel, Israel’s relationship with God, and God’s activity in our world. In Professor of Old Testament Terence Fretheim’s words, "[this is] a witness to the power of Yahweh and a consequent summons to faith." The first other answer, I believe, to ‘how did Moses cross the Red Sea’ is by ‘being still’. If you know the story you know that after ten plagues had plagued Egypt, Pharaoh finally let Moses people go, but no sooner had he done so, than he and his officials regretted it, “What have we done,” chapter 14, verse 5, “letting Israel leave our service?” So, he gathered, “six hundred picked chariots and all the other chariots of Egypt,” and pursued the Israelites. And the Israelites were caught, with the sea at their backs, and six hundred plus heavily armed chariots coming towards them. Not a good place to be! No wonder they complain to Moses, “Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, ‘Leave us alone and let us serve the Egyptians’? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.” A response that reveals they are not only caught between the devil (or Pharaoh) and the deep blue sea, but between an identity as slaves and summoning the courage for a new identity, as God’s chosen people bound for the Promised Land. But Moses’ response is extraordinary. “Do not be afraid, ” he says. (Where have we heard those words before?) “Stand firm and see the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today…” and he finishes with, “You have only to keep still.” Keep still. Trust. Hold on. Sometimes all that we can do in the face of chaos is ‘be still’. I am reminded of a story pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber tells of doing Clinical Pastoral Education and being paged to a trauma room. “Inside the trauma room,” she writes, “a nurse was cutting the clothes off a motionless man in his fifties on a table, tubes were coming out of his mouth and arms. Doctors [were] doing things to him not meant for my eyes and sorely misrepresented on TV shows….[one] motioned for paddles, which he then placed on the motionless man’s freshly cracked-open chest. A nurse stepped back to where I was standing, and I leaned over to her, “Everyone seems to have a job, but what am I doing here?” She looked at my badge and said, “You job is to be aware of God’s presence in the room while we do our jobs.” For the rest of her time in the hospital, Nadia writes, “in that messy chaos, [her] job was to stand there and be aware of God’s presence in the room. Kind of a weird job description, but there it was, and in those moments,” she writes, “I felt strangely qualified. I didn’t have the slightest idea what to say to someone who just had shoulder surgery, but I couldn’t help but feel God’s presence in the…room.” Sometimes the only way to respond to the messy chaos of the Red Seas of our lives is to ‘be still’; to become aware of God’s presence in those situations. The second other answer to ‘how did Moses cross the Red Sea’ is by ‘keeping on going’. Exodus 14:15 says, “Then the Lord said to Moses, “Why do you cry out to me? Tell the Israelites to go forward.” Or as it is written – and I have never forgotten this – in my Children’s Living Bible, “Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘Quit praying and get the people moving! Forward, march!’” Sometimes we need to keep still, but at other times we must keep going. The people of Israel had to start making their way across the Red Sea, even though that way seemed hard and scary and very uncertain. This has been my experience this year. As I wrote a few months ago in ‘Sunday to Sunday’ (and this is not news to any of you) 2020 has been a very difficult year; with the aftermath of Martin’s resignation and my father’s ill-health and all the ongoing challenges to doing ministry that Covid has presented; and all these difficulties have sometimes made me wonder if there is a way ahead. But as I wrote in that Sunday to Sunday, knowing God is with us, sometimes we just have to do ‘the next right thing’ with as much integrity and courage and vulnerability as we can, sometimes we just have to keep moving, knowing we move forward with a companion God, a God who says to us, “Do not be afraid, I am with you”. The third other answer to ‘how did Moses cross the Red Sea’ is an odd one – but I think crossing the Red Seas of our lives also requires us to engage in ‘lamenting’. The story of the Red Sea crossing is full of creation imagery. Just as, “In the beginning when God created the heaven and the earth the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep,” here again in Exodus God dives into the deep and dark and messy parts of human history and creates a people, as I mentioned above, with a new identity. People who are no longer slaves but chosen by God. And in doing so, God defeats the anti-creational forces of enslavement, domination, and violence represented by Pharaoh. But the text does not allow this to become a tribal ‘us and them’ account. It also remembers the deaths of the Egyptians, “and Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the seashore.” In a Jewish commentary on this passage, the rabbis speak of the angels desiring to sing a song of praise before God in response to this victory over the Egyptians and God says to them: “My handiwork [the Egyptians] are drowning in the sea, and you are reciting a song before me?...God is not gladdened by the downfall of the wicked.” As we make our way through the dark and deep and messy parts of our lives, our human history, we are called to lament for our suffering and for the suffering of others. You may have caught the news of the 9-11 memorials in New York and seen the clip of the Rev Phillip Jackson standing in the graveyard of Trinity Church Wall Street about to ring the bell of hope which is rung every year at 8:46am – the time when the first plane flew into the north tower – and saying, “In addition to remembering those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001, we also have in our hearts and in our minds and in our prayers and in our souls, we remember the almost 24,000 New Yorkers who died this year from the Covid 19 virus….We lost almost 24, 000 of our fellow NY this year…I don’t know about you, but for me, that is a heartbreak and a loss that we will remember forever.” We are called to lament. And finally, my final other answer for ‘how did Moses cross the Red Sea’ is ‘by singing’; by singing God’s praises. As well as taking time to lament, we must take time to ring out and sing our hope. This is what will keep us going. If you know the text, you will know this is exactly what Moses and his sister, Miriam (I like to get a mention of Miriam in where I can!) did. They sang, “I will sing unto the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously. The horse and rider – the ancient symbols of enslavement and domination and violence – thrown into the sea.” Some of you may know this, but this song has been kept alive by Aboriginal communities. My Miriam’s Aboriginal studies lecturer was telling her that when she heard ‘Ngarra burra ferra’ sung in the movie, The Sapphires, she remembered her grandmother singing it and then got angry that another white person’s hymn had been imposed on Aboriginal people, but actually the history is more interesting. The song originates in a visit from the Fisk Jubilee Singers, an African American university choir, to Mologa mission on the Murray River in 1887. Fisk University was one of the newly formed black colleges and universities established to educate freed slaves, founded in 1870 shortly after Emancipation in the US in 1865, and the choir was on a worldwide tour to raise funds for the university. They sang there an African American spiritual called, ‘Turn Back Pharoah’s Army’. The tradition is that Theresa Clements who worked with the mission teacher, Thomas James, composed the Yorta Yorta version of this song which soon became owned by the Bangerang people, or, in fact anyone who identified with Yorta Yorta people. But they did not keep the song to themselves. It was a song to sing out to all Australians, as a statement. Professor Bain Attwood found that, as William Cooper and others negotiated with officials as to how best commemorate the founding of Melbourne, the Aboriginal leadership was able to include a performance of their Biblical song of defiance and hope. “In the concert held to mark Melbourne’s foundation in May 1937, the grand finale was the aboriginal choir’s singing of a ‘Burra Phara’, an African American spiritual, translated into the Yorta Yorta language, which expressed their identification with the Jews as the dispossessed of the Book of Exodus…” How did Moses cross the Red Sea? How do we continue to cross the Red Seas of our experience, in our Individual lives and as a community of hope, a people who also are God’s loved and chosen people? We do it by being still. Yes, yes. By keeping on going. Yes, yes. By lamenting. Yes, yes. And by continuing to sing songs of defiance and hope and rejoicing in God’s delivering and creating work in our lives and in our world. Yes, yes! Womraka moses yenyen wala Wala yepun yepudge Ngara burra ferra yamini yala Ngara burra ferra yumini yala yala Ngara burra ferra yumini yala yala Ngara burra ferra yumina Burra ferra yumina Burra ferra yumina yala yala…

Sunday 6 September 2020 – Remember this.

Canberra Baptist Church — Sun, 06 Sep 2020 00:00:07 +0000

Reading Exodus 12:1-14 (NRSV) Background During most of the last 3 months we followed the O.T. lectionary readings in Genesis. We have looked at key events in the lives of 4 generations – Abraham and Sarah; their son Isaac and his wife Rebekah; then Jacob (or Israel to give him his later name) and Rachel; and most recently, Joseph and his brothers. Joseph died in Egypt where he had been Pharaoh’s second-in-charge. Before he died, he was able to settle his father and brothers and relatives in Egypt and look after them. With the passing of this and successive generations, the Egyptians enslaved the Hebrew people. This is the situation at the beginning of the next book in the Bible – Exodus, which means exit or departure, which sounds promising, but that’s jumping ahead. In the early chapters of Exodus, we read how God raised up and called Moses to set the people free. You know the story, how Moses tries to get Pharaoh to let them go. Pharaoh refuses time after time, even though God sends a plague of one sort or another after each refusal. Finally, Moses warns Pharaoh that there will be a 10th plague, a final one. As God passes through the land all the first-born children and animals of Egypt will die but God will pass over and spare the Hebrews. Today’s Reading That’s where today’s reading comes in. It comes right as the drama is building to a climax. There’s this rather long pause before the action resumes. But it’s a very important pause. God takes the time to give instructions about what is going to happen and what the people need to do to escape. There are a few crucial instructions.

The primary one is that each family is to kill a lamb and put the blood around the outside of their door. God would pass over their homes and they would escape death.
They are also told that each family is to have a meal of the lamb roasted over fire with unleavened bread and bitter herbs (v8). Their escape into the desert would be arduous and they would need such a meal beforehand. They would have to leave quickly, hence the unleavened bread. There would be no time to wait for bread in it to rise.
God’s instructions go beyond the immediate situation. They are to have a yearly festival to celebrate and remember their deliverance.

“This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the LORD; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.” (v14) Passover Meal In the spirit of this instruction, Jews have continued to celebrate the Passover ever since. A family Seder meal at Passover is a highly significant religious and cultural event. It is a meal that includes various ritual or symbolic items of food. A Seder plate usually have the following.

A roasted lamb shank – a reminder of the lambs on that first Passover night.
A roasted egg – represents hardness and is a reminder of festival sacrifice in the Jerusalem Temple in the past.

3,4. Horseradish and onion – the bitter herbs.

Charoset – a sweet salad of apples, nuts, wine and cinnamon said to

represent the mortar used by the Hebrew slaves to make bricks.

Parsley – symbolic of freshness and spring.

3 or sometimes 4 pieces of unleavened bread are placed in a pile on a separate plate. 4 small cups of wine are usually drunk, like toasts, during different parts of the meal. There is 1 for each of the 4 expressions of redemption God uses in describing their deliverance from Egypt –

I will take you out…
I will save you…
I will redeem you…
I will take you as a nation…

Questions and answers or explanations are another feature of the Seder ritual. A child usually asks the questions, beginning with the famous one: “Why is this night from other nights?” Questions about the significance of the various food items on the table are also asked and answered. The Last Supper It is generally understood that the Last Supper that Jesus had with his disciples was a Passover meal, though obviously not with all the modern refinements. During the meal when it came time to explain the significance of the bread, Jesus looked ahead and said it represented his body that would be given for them. He told them to remember him when they ate. The Bible explicitly draws the parallel between the sacrifice of Passover lambs and the sacrifice of Jesus, the Lamb of God, on the cross. When it came time to explain the significance of the wine, Jesus said it represented his blood poured out for the forgiveness of others. He said to remember him when they drank. By the way, did you know that Matthew and Mark in their accounts of the Last Supper have the eating of the bread first and then the drinking of the wine. Luke however has the cup first, then the bread… then the cup again. He’s not wrong, just more detailed, and mentions one of the other Passover cups that Matthew and Mark don’t. Communion The Early Church quickly adopted the practice of remembering Jesus’ death through frequent memorial meals, not just once per year like the Passover. Initially such meals were in homes in extended family groups but developed to be whole church events called “agape meals” or love feasts. Paul gives lots of instructions about these in Corinthians. Later still, for various theological and practical reasons, more ritualised and symbolic memorials occurred in church services. Around Easter though many churches have a meal that is more like a Passover meal. Having described the development of Passover and Communion traditions, at least in a rudimentary way, I’d like to offer 2 reflections.

The first is about transformation.

God is a God who transforms, even when transformation seems impossible. The Hebrews had been in bondage in Egypt for some 400 years. But God delivered them – transformned from being slaves to being free. They had a tragic past and miserable present but now they had a promising future. So significant was this even that God even transformed their calendar. 12:2. “This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you.” A bit like the coming of Jesus transformed the calendar into Before Christ and After Christ. Jesus came on the Father’s mission of transformation – a mission to set captives free and to release the oppressed. Our lives can be transformed for the better by God, because God is a God who transforms. He raised Jesus from death to life, and we are raised from death to life in him. We get a new calendar too – an eternal one.

My second reflection is on the nature of family.

The Passover in today’s Exodus reading was to be observed in distinct family groupings. This is still the basis of Jewish Passover celebrations today, though non-family members are often included. In the Early Church and the Church today, Communion or Eucharist is not a nuclear family celebration. It is a celebration of the Church, the family of God. Through faith we are part of a new family – sisters and brothers in Christ. This family is not limited to one race but encompasses people from all nations of the world. The Exodus of the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt was the forerunner to a much greater Exodus – the Exodus of people from all nations from slavery to the bondage of sin. The only begotten Son of God died so that we might be part of his family. That’s worth remembering and celebrating. We are going to do that now as we move into our time of Communion. The choir is going to sing “Agnus Dei”, “Lamb of God”.

Sunday 30 August 2020 – Tim Costello: End Covid for all

Canberra Baptist Church — Sun, 30 Aug 2020 00:00:55 +0000

Sunday 23 August 2020 – Body Language

Canberra Baptist Church — Sun, 23 Aug 2020 00:00:58 +0000

Exodus 1:8-22, Romans 12:1-8 Sometimes, writes poet Godfrey Rust, words are not enough for everything we have to say. Words can’t beat like a heart. A verb won’t sweat or bleed. A noun doesn’t get thirsty. An adjective cannot feel pain. Something gets lost in translation into words. So when God needed to express a love deeper than words he used body language of a kind not known on earth before. I have used this poem before, but it is very relevant to this reading from Romans 12 this morning, to the apostle Paul’s references to body language, to a love deeper than words, that God uses to communicate with us; that we use to express our love for God, and, in doing so, discover is our lingua franca and our love language as the body of Christ. The references to God’s love for human beings being expressed in body language are brief in this passage, so brief you might pass over them, but the “therefore” in verse one, as well as the reference to the “mercies of God”, refers back to the eleven preceding chapters in which Paul speaks exhaustively of God’s relationship with human beings, God’s call to life for human beings, our resistance, but how God persists in loving us and calling us, to the extent in Romans, chapter five, that “while we still were sinners Christ died for us”. This is without doubt body language, as Godfrey Rust says, “of a kind not known on earth before.” Or in the words of Isaac Watts, in the hymn we have just sung (or heard sung): See from his head, his hands, his feet; sorrow and love flow mingled down: Did e’er such love and sorrow meet, or thorns compose so rich a crown? It is no wonder then that Paul begins this passage by appealing to his listeners, to us, to respond to this great expression of love with the fullest expression we can make in return; “I appeal to you then, brothers and sisters,…to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” “Love so amazing, so divine, demands our soul, our life, our all.” There is no missing the language of ritual sacrifice here, practices that were much more familiar to Paul’s original audience than they are to us, but in abandoning ritual sacrifice we must not forget that our response to God, our faith response, should be a full-bodied response; a presentation of our minds and spirits and bodies to God. There is always the danger, it seems, in Christian thinking, to separate the body from the mind and the spirit, to derogate the body. Yet we continue to learn more and more about how integrated we are as human beings – how what we experience in our bodies affects our minds and spirits, how what we think and feel impacts on our bodies. And this devaluing of our bodies is plain bad theology. It does not reflect a God who created human beings, who intimately breathed life into human beings and delighted in them, and declared them good; it does not reflect a God who knits us together, our inmost beings, in our mother’s wombs, who makes us fearfully, awe-inspiringly, wonderfully... “No real Christian,” says William Barclay in his commentary of Romans, “ever believed that…” [that the body is of lesser value], and I love what he goes on to say, despite it reflecting a certain cultural and gender bias, “The Christian believes that his body belongs to God just as much as his soul does, and that he can serve God just as well with his body as he can with his mind or spirit…. Take your body; take all the ordinary tasks that you have to do every day; take the ordinary work of the shop, the factory, the shipyard, the mine (or in our situations, the ordinary work of the home, the classroom, the hospital, the online or office environment); and offer all that as an act of worship to God.” Or as theologian Stanley Hauerwas puts it, Christianity “is not a set of beliefs or doctrines one believes in order to be a Christian…but rather Christianity is to have one’s body shaped, one’s habits determined, in such a way that the worship of God is unavoidable.” Christians believe that God does not despise our flesh; that God became a body and did God’s work in a body; and that God loves our bodies and that we give glory to God and reveal the glory of God in our bodies – there is no other way. And in these bodily acts of worship we together become one body, the body of Christ. I want to go back for a minute to the concept of living sacrifices. Two Christmases ago, I flew to Melbourne after the Christmas morning service here and I got a taxi from the airport out to Aron’s parent’s place and the driver, perhaps this is no surprise on Christmas Day, was a Moslem. We, very naturally, started talking about how Christmas Day is celebrated in Australia and, after a while, I asked him about the celebrations on his special holy days and he talked about Eid al-Adha; how it went for four days; how his large extended family would all come and stay together for those four days, and the practical difficulties of slaughtering a sheep for Eid in suburban Melbourne, how there are a few places on the outskirts where this can be done or you can pay for it to be done somewhere else; but how the sacrifice was central to the celebrations, how the sharing of it with friends and family, and especially with the poor, was what made this time holy; and how coming together was so important, having this period of time to work through family tensions so you could continue being a family. Which curiously illustrates for me what the apostle Paul is describing here; all of us come and offer our living sacrifices, ourselves, and we become a gathered offering, a celebration, a deepening of human community. We discover in our offering ourselves to God, we are offering ourselves to each other, in our serving God, we are serving one another, in our working together and working things out together we are imitating and inviting others into God’s family. We discover we are re-membering the body of Christ. We know what happens when we do not remember Christ’s body, when we forget, or we cease to care for one another. This is what we see in our Old Testament reading; “Now a new king arose who did not know – who did not remember – Joseph;” a ruler who wilfully chooses to not remember, to forget the humanity of the Israelites, to make them slaves. How often in the history of our world have there been rulers who have made up lies to devalue members of the human community, to tear human community apart? And how often do we do the same thing – propagating stories and lies that put others down, that assert our superiority, that tear apart community? In courageous contrast the midwives to the Hebrew women, Shiphrah and Puah, whose names very aptly mean ‘beautiful’ and ‘splendid’, turn Pharaoh’s lies back on him. They say, “the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous (in other words full of life) and give birth before the midwife comes to them”. While giving lip-service to Pharaoh’s political speak, they affirm the humanity and life of the Israelites. They re-member them where Pharaoh does not. In our proclamation, in our ministering, in our teaching, in our exhortation, in our giving, in our diligent and courageous leadership, in our compassion – in the daily exercise of all these gifts for God and for the benefit of each other, we are speaking a body language that is deeper than words, that is full of life and salvation. We are becoming the body of Christ. We are re-membering the body of Christ. We are birthing life and salvation for others. Let us ask God to continue to breathe this life into us, so we can offer it in return. I want to ask you to reflect on the words of our next hymn – not by singing it together – but by reading it responsively. And at the end James will play a few verses, so we can reflect in silence before we pray for ourselves and for our world. Breathe on us, breath of God, fill us with life anew, that we may love what thou dost love, and do as thou wouldst do. Breathe on us, breath of God, until our hearts are pure, until with thee we will one will, to do or to endure. Breathe on us, breath of God; till we are wholly thine, until this earthly part of us glows with thy fire divine. Breathe on us, breath of God; so shall we never die, but live with thee the perfect life of thine eternity.

Sunday 16 August 2020 – How Good it is!

Canberra Baptist Church — Sun, 16 Aug 2020 00:00:50 +0000

Reading Genesis 45:1-15 (NRSV) Introduction The church office had an answering machine to take messages when the office was unattended. It instructed callers to leave their name and address, and to spell any difficult words. Early one Monday, when the Office Manager was reviewing the weekend messages, she heard an enthusiastic caller recite her name and address, and then confidently add: “My difficult word is reconciliation -- R.E.C.O.N.C.I.L.I.A.T.I.O.N.” The Office Manager didn’t know the woman well and couldn’t work out if she was joking or serious, or a bit of both. This is the theme of my sermon this morning – reconciliation. And my title is “How Good it is!” Reconciliation is not that difficult to spell, and its meaning is quite clear. The word derives from the Latin verb reconciliare. The re at the beginning means back or again. The conciliare part means bring together. So reconciliare means the bringing back together again. Easy to spell and easy to define, but not so easy to do. But we have a beautiful example of it in the section of the story of Joseph we read earlier. Last week Belinda had the unenviable task of preaching on the bad news part of the story – the dysfunctional family; his brothers planning to kill him then selling him into slavery; years languishing in prison in Egypt. But today is the good news part and it’s as delightful as it is dramatic. The Story In his book on preaching titled “The Homiletical Plot”, Eugene Lowry outlines 5 movements of classical narrative. He calls them Oops, Ugh, Aha, Whee, and Yeah. A good story begins by throwing the reader (or hearer) off balance with an unexpected Oops. Then it draws the reader into the action with an ever-deepening set of complications that seem unsolvable, the Ugh. At the point of greatest difficulty, there is the discovery of a possible way out – the Aha moment. Then the resolution plays itself out and things get better and the reader is caught up in the thrill of the ride, the Whee. Finally, the previously ugly situation is completely resolved, and everyone settles into the Yeah. Peace is restored. R.E.C.O.N.C.I.L.I.A.T.I.O.N. The Oops part of the story began some 20 years previously when Jacob’s favourite son was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers. Things go badly for Joseph when his master’s wife accuses him of trying to rape her, and he is thrown into prison for years and forgotten -- the Ugh part. But when God helps him interpret Pharaoh’s dreams, he is released and becomes Pharaoh’s 2nd in charge. An amazing about-turn. The Aha. Then we go on a wild roller-coaster of a ride (Whee) as Joseph’s brothers come to Egypt looking for food during a severe famine. Joseph plays an intriguing game of cat and mouse with them which involves hidden identity, trip back and forth to Israel, hidden silver, hostages, and the dread and anxiety of his brothers and father. Then in today’s reading we get the Yeah. Joseph can no longer control himself we are told in v1. He weeps so loudly that even the Egyptians he has sent out of the room can hear him. He says: “I am Joseph.” (v3) “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here.” (v4b, 5a). Then the final verse and climax of our passage – “And he kissed his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him.” R.E.C.O.N.C.I.L.I.A.T.I.O.N. Or at least the start of it, because further steps would be needed later in the healing process. Reconciliation Joseph could easily have had them all killed for what they had done. It would have been natural for Joseph to seek revenge and deliver punishment for all the trouble and suffering his brothers had put him through. This is in fact what his brothers thought was going to happen. But Joseph took quite a different path. Why? It occurred to me that Joseph would have been there when his father Jacob reconciled with Esau after so many years. He would have shared in the relief and the blessings that resulted from that. He had been given a good example that he couldn’t forget. But we get a more complete answer in what Joseph says to his brothers. V8 – “So it was not you who sent me here, but God.” He says something very similar in v5, v7, v9 as well as v8. 4 times! It’s also significant to note that Joseph called his second son Ephraim, which means “For God has made me fruitful in the land of my misfortune”. (41:52) It takes someone of great insight and faith to be able to say that. This perspective raises the thorny issue of the relationship between human responsibility and divine sovereignty. The actions of the brothers were clearly wrong. God didn’t make them do this evil. But God was still able to bring the divine plan to fruition. The New Interpreters Bible says: “The brothers’ sinful objectives have been thwarted by being drawn into the larger orbit of God’s purposes and used by God in such a way as to bring life rather than death.” Despite the wrongs committed against Joseph, God was able to use him to save his own people as well as the Egyptians from death by starvation. In the grander scheme of things, Joseph became an important part in the fulfilment of the Covenant promises God made to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. This way of thinking, though somewhat paradoxical, is not foreign to us, is it? We apply much the same perspective to the death of Jesus. While we decry the evil and unjust actions of Judas and the Jewish court and the Roman executors, we also praise God for the salvation that came through Christ’s death and resurrection. An element of mystery remains that frazzles our finite brains, but we are nonetheless grateful recipients of life through God’s great plan of salvation. A different kind of reconciliation – between mortals and God. But back to the type of reconciliation we see in our passage – between Joseph and his brothers. How good it is! Psalm 133:1 Today’s Psalm is number 133. We didn’t have it as a reading today, but let me read the first verse to you. Literally translated it says: “How very good and pleasant it is, when brothers live together in unity.” In last Sunday’s sermon Belinda showed you a picture of her family, so today here’s one of ours. These are our 4 sons. The picture was taken 12 years ago when we did the Cradle Mt-Lake St Claire trek in Tasmania. That is at the top of Cradle Mt. We are very fortunate that our sons get on. They’ve had their moments, like most brothers, but not major ones. Even though they are geographically dispersed these days, they are still close. As a parent, let me say how wonderful I find it when brothers live together in unity. But let’s extend our boundaries for just a moment. As a Pastor, let me say how wonderful I find it when brothers and sisters live together in unity. NIV translation of Ps 133:1 says: “How very good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity.” I’d like to quote what Eugene Peterson says in relation to this Psalm, one of the Psalms of Ascent. (The Journey, p159-162). “We are a family in Christ. When we become Christians, we are among brothers and sisters in faith. No Christian is an only child. But of course, just because we are a family of faith does not mean we are one big happy family. The people we encounter as brothers and sisters in faith are not always nice people. They do not stop being sinners the moment they begin believing in Christ… So the question is not, ‘Am I going to be a part of a community of faith?’ but, ‘How am I going to live in the community of faith?’… Psalm 133 presents what we are after… For centuries the psalm was sung on the road as throngs of people made the ascent to Jerusalem for festival worship. Our imaginations readily reconstruct those scenes. How great to have everyone sharing a common purpose, travelling a common path, striving towards a common goal, that path and purpose and goal being God. How much better than making that long trip alone.” Conclusion Isn’t that a marvellous picture! Let me say again, how wonderful I find it when brothers and sisters live in unity. But more to the point, how wonderful the Father of us all finds it when brothers and sisters live in unity. That’s what God calls us to. But because we are not yet perfect, as Peterson said, there will be ample need and opportunity to put into practice what we have seen in today’s story. R.E.C.O.N.C.I.L.I.A.T.I.O.N. How good it will be! We can do it through Christ, who died to reconcile us and make us one and who gives us the ministry of reconciliation.