Wednesday 21 September 2016

Some thoughts on the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31)

I'm not preaching this week, but here are some of my random thoughts on Sunday's gospel lesson.

First of all, let's not confuse the "Lazarus" in this parable with the "Lazarus" who appears as the brother of Mary and Martha in John's gospel.  The pool of possible names that people were given in that time was somewhat limited.  Just as the gospels give us multiple Marys, Johns, and Jameses, so also are there two Lazaruses in the gospels.

Secondly, the fact that the rich man was anonymous while Lazarus was named was significant, in my opinion.  (In some traditions, the rich man was called "Dives", but that was only because of the word for "rich man" used by Jerome in his Latin translation of the scriptures.)  For many people, the anonymity of the rich man and the naming of Lazarus would have been a reversal of what usually happened.  ("Wasn't that a great party as Dives's place last night?  Too bad he has to cope with that homeless bum hanging around at his gate!")  In God's viewpoint, the poor and the marginalised are always regarded with dignity, including the dignity of a name.

Thirdly, playing around with "Dives" as a name for a moment, and realising the Latin nature of the name, there were these two men somewhere in Galilee:  the rich man and friend of the Empire with his Latin name and the poor beggar with a definitely Hebrew name.  If we were telling this story elsewhere, could we do something similar?
  • An Anglo Dives and an Hispanic Lazarus in El Paso?
  • Jock MacDives and Paddy O'Lazarus in Belfast?
  • An Anglo Dives and an indigenous Lazarus in many Australian country towns?
Fourthly, this parable is the only time in Jesus's teaching where he speaks of an individual as being in "hell" (or "hades", to be precise).  Now, those who know me know that "hell" is not a major theme of my theology and that I have serious doubts about much of what conservative Christians (and, particularly, conservative "Protestants") say about "hell".  An interesting thing here is that the rich man's fate doesn't seem to be about any of the things that many conservative Christians seem to think are reasons to consign someone to "hell".
  • It doesn't seem that he got his theology wrong.
  • It doesn't seem that he approached his faith with an insufficient level of emotional fervour.
  • It doesn't even seem that he engaged in any outrageous sexual shenanigans.
It merely seemed to be the result of his lack of concern and his passive cruelty toward the poverty and suffering which presented themselves to him.  Perhaps, paradoxically, the source of the rich man's damnation was just not giving a damn.

Tuesday 6 September 2016

A Faith that can sing the Blues: a sermon (Luke 15:1-10)

A number of years ago, a reporter from The New York Times went to Mississippi to write an article about how, in the words of his article’s title:  “The Blues is dying in the place where it was born.”  In the article, the reporter made the point that it was “the very authenticity of the Blues that endangers it.” 

For the article the reporter interviewed a number of Blues musicians, including an elderly, African-American guitarist named CeDell Davis. This old-time bluesman defended the integrity of the Blues in contrast to more recent forms of popular music, especially one musical form that he particularly despised:  hip-hop.
CeDell Davis said: 

"The Blues is about people, and as long as there's people, there will be Blues.  The Blues tells a story.  Hip-hop don't tell no story.  It don't tell no story about women, men, trains, buses, cars, birds, alleys, stores.  The Blues is about things."

·        “The Blues is about people.”

·        “The Blues tells a story.”

·        “The Blues is about things.”

The Blues, then, is a lot like our Christian faith. 

·        Our faith is about people. 

·        Our faith tells a story. 

·        And our faith is “about things”. 

I believe we have an opportunity offered to us by Christ to develop a faith that can sing the Blues.  This is an opportunity we should not miss, because the alternative is a faith that is mere “hip-hop.”  (And there really is a lot of “hip-hop” religion in our world today.)


1.       “The Blues is about people.”  Our faith is also about people.

In the gospels, Jesus acted with compassion in the face of human need: disease, poverty, fear, hunger, grief.  In his encounters with people, Jesus always sought to address the real needs of real people.

At its best, the Christian faith always seeks to address the real concerns of real people.  Christianity takes very seriously issues of

·        the relationship between couples,

·        the relationships between parents and children,

·        illness,

·        fear, violence, and our response to both,

·        dying,

·        bereavement. 

Our faith seeks to address these concerns with sensitivity and with the love of Christ.

·        A faith that can sing the Blues seeks to show support to people in the times of life’s crises. 

·        A faith that can sing the Blues rejects the temptation to promote guilt in other people or to manipulate people’s emotions.

“The Blues is about people.”  So is our faith.  A faith that is not about people is just so much “hip-hop”.
2.       “The Blues tells a story.”  Our faith also tells a story.

In the gospels, we see Jesus as a master storyteller.  Most of Jesus’ teaching took place as parables - as stories.  Jesus’ stories have become a major part of our culture.  Even for people who are not of Christian faith, phrases like “Good Samaritan” or “Prodigal Son” are still part of the culture and the language.

As well, we find this sense of story more broadly in our faith.  We are part of the story of the people of God:

·        from the Hebrew Scriptures,

·        through the New Testament,

·        through the history of the Christian Church,

·        to centuries upon centuries after us,

we are part of the ongoing story of the people of God.

There’s a theological word for this sense of being part of the broader story of faith: “tradition”.  Now, the word “tradition” is too often treated as a dirty word in many churches.  But in its most basic sense, the word “tradition” is about this idea that we are part of the broad story of the life of God’s people.

·        A faith that can sing the Blues gives us a story of which to be a part.

·        A faith that can sing the Blues does not leave us needing to reinvent the wheel every day in our life as God’s people. 

“The Blues tells a story.”  So does our faith.  A faith that does not tell a story is just so much “hip-hop”.
 
3.       “The Blues is about things.”  Our faith is also “about things”.

The scriptures frequently show how the ordinary things of life can make profound points about God and about our lives:

·        In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus spoke of the persistent nature of God’s love by using images of a woman looking for a lost coin and a shepherd seeking a lost sheep.

·        In last week’s lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures, Jeremiah watched a potter at work, correcting his mistakes as he went along, and used it as an image of how God calls all people of faith to renew their lives.

·        In last week’s gospel lesson, Jesus spoke of a builder planning a project intelligently, and used this image to encourage us all to give good attention to our own priorities in life.

·        In next week’s gospel lesson, Jesus told a story about the wheeling and dealing of a dishonest manager and used this story to motivate people of faith – and other people of good will - to expend least as much energy in doing good as the villains of this world expend in doing bad.

Our faith is “about things”.

In our Christian faith, the most sacred moments involve ordinary substances: 

·        the water in which we wash;

·        the bread that keeps our bodies alive;

·        the wine that, for many of us, transforms our eating into dining.

In our faith, ordinary substances are regularly given a sacred meaning.  Our faith is “about things”

Our faith calls us to get involved in the ordinary stuff of life:

·        in the struggle for justice, peace, and human dignity;

·        in living lives of integrity and humanity within the wider community.

Our faith is “about things”.

·        A faith that can sing the Blues sees the presence of God in ordinary things. 

·        A  faith that can sing the Blues never makes us so heavenly minded as to be of no earthly good.

“The Blues is about things.”  So is our faith.  A faith that is not “about things” is just so much “hip-hop”.

"The Blues is about people, and as long as there's people, there will be Blues.  The Blues tells a story.  Hip-hop don't tell no story.  It don't tell no story about women, men, trains, buses, cars, birds, alleys, stores.  The Blues is about things."

·        “The Blues is about people.”  Christ reminds us that our faith is about people.  A faith that is not about people is just so much “hip-hop”.

·        “The Blues tells a story.”  Christ reminds us that our faith tells a story.  A faith that does not tell a story is just so much “hip-hop”.

·        “The Blues is about things.”  Christ reminds us that our faith is “about things”.  A faith that is not “about things” is just so much “hip-hop”.

Christ calls us and enables us, I believe, to develop a faith that can sing the Blues.

Monday 5 September 2016

Book review: Disturbing Much, Disturbing Many

Geoff Thompson, Disturbing Much, Disturbing Many:  theology provoked by the Basis of Union, Northcote:  Uniting Academic Press, 2016.

Since 1977, there have been numerous studies of the Basis of Union of the Uniting Church in Australia (introductions, commentaries, histories, etc.).  Nevertheless, this recent volume by Dr. Geoff Thompson (Co-ordinator of Studies in Systematic Theology, Pilgrim Theological College) breaks new ground.

At the beginning of this book, Thompson indicates that the intentions of those who framed the Basis of Union was not to cobble together a church structure that could accommodate three denominational traditions, along with a variety of different emphases of belief and practice.  Rather, in the words of the first report of the Joint Commission on Church Union, The Faith of the Church, the task of the Basis of Union would be no less than “a fresh confession of the faith of the Church”, with the knowledge that such fresh confession would “disturb much and disturb many”.  (p. 1)

This book is an exploration of the ways in which such a “fresh confession of the faith of the Church” would impact on the issues confronting the UCA today, including relationships with indigenous Australians (both inside and outside the church) and the inclusion of LGBT Christians within the church.  I felt the chapter on theological relativism is particularly useful.  I personally cheered when I read Thompson’s call for the UCA to formally affirm the existing practice of most UCA congregations to celebrate Holy Communion with an “open table” (p. 113).

I’m sure that, like the Basis of Union itself, Thompson’s study will “disturb many”.

If you cannot deal with a church which affirms critical biblical scholarship and which welcomes the ministry of LGBT people, be prepared to be disturbed.

If you believe such historic Christian affirmations as the Incarnation and the Trinity are artifacts of the past rather than a source of liberating possibilities in the present and the future, be prepared to be disturbed.

If you believe that the UCA (like Ms. Mary Poppins) is already “practically perfect in every way” (particularly in your own congregation) rather than a work in progress, be prepared to be disturbed.

In any event, enjoy the disturbance.
 
(This review first appeared in the September 2016 issue of Crosslight.)