Some thoughts about what worship may look like following the COVID-19 pandemic

As I write these reflections in early May of 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic is still raging in many places in the world.  Here in Australia, the “curve” of new infections is beginning to flatten, while most restrictions on physical contact and public gatherings have (intelligently) not been significantly eased yet in most states, although a process for the gradual easing of restrictions has been announced.

One area of life affected by these restrictions is the worship life of churches and other faith communities.  I doubt if many of us would have predicted at the beginning of this year that almost all worship services in Australia would have moved online for a significant part of this year.  In any event, it’s good to see the extent to which the move of worship online was well accepted by worshippers, compared to the reactions among some (admittedly extreme) groups in the United States.


In this regard, I’d like to reflect on the impact of the pandemic on worship and, in particular, to suggest some ways in which the experiences of the pandemic may affect our worship in the time after restrictions start to be eased.  My reflection is based on my own experience as a Minister of the Word in the Uniting Church in Australia, now retired, who has served both as a minister to congregations and as an ecumenical staffer.


Speaking personally, I feel I may have had a bit more preparation for the experience of worshipping online than many other UCA members have had.  For a number of years, I’ve been a member of a Rotary club which has its regular meetings, not over a meal at a local restaurant, pub, or golf club, but online using the “Zoom” platform.  (In Rotary, such clubs are known as “e-clubs”.)  As a result of my Rotary e-club experience, I feel I’ve been prepared for the experience of attending online worship and have found it much less jarring than I may have found otherwise.


In the time since worship moved online in late March, my online worship participation has involved three congregations of three denominations:

• the outer-suburban UCA congregation of which we’re members,
• an inner-suburban Anglican parish (with an Anglo-Catholic spirituality), where I’ve been a semi-regular worshipper for some years (and where I regard this involvement as an important dimension of my “self-care” in ministry), and
• a Roman Catholic cathedral parish in a regional city interstate where we worshipped while on holidays a few years ago.

As a result, my experience of online worship during the time of the pandemic has not been limited to worship in a single congregation or, indeed, in a single denomination.

Looking more broadly, and in the multifaith context of

contemporary Australia, I’d like to suggest that the varied religious traditions of humanity can be grouped together into two large clusters:

• On the one hand, for many of the faiths that arose in Eastern and Southern Asia, the heart of their spirituality is seen in the devotional practice of individuals.  A Hindu or a Buddhist may go to their temple to pray or to meditate, but it will most often be a private visit or a visit by a family group rather than attendance a larger gathering.  Group worship or group meditation does take place within these traditions, but (other than at major festivals) individual practice is far more crucial.
• On the other hand, for a large cluster of faiths which includes Christianity, Judaism, and Islam (among others), the heart of spiritual practice is found in gathering together with other people of shared faith to join in shared worship.  Worship as part of a congregation is the “bread-and-butter” of spirituality, while private devotions are the “icing on the cake”.   If occasionally missing a worship service sometimes feels to some members to be more like wagging school than missing a meal, that feeling may often be a sign of being part of a dysfunctional congregation.

I believe that one result of the COVID-19 coronavirus on faith communities, both here in Australia and elsewhere, will be to reemphasise the value for people of faith of gathering together with others for worship.  Perhaps, it may even be the end of glib comments on the part of some people in the community about “I worship God best when bushwalking or playing golf.”

But the question then could be “What differences may we find when we begin to gather together again?”  (And here I’d like to focus on the effect of our re-gathering upon worship in the Uniting Church, although my comments may be relevant to other denominations as well.)  I’d like to make four suggestions about how the aftermath of the coronavirus may positively affect the shape of our worship.

1.  The first suggestion is that our congregations may find ourselves having more frequent celebrations of Holy Communion. 

In churches such as the UCA, worshippers attend public worship for a variety of reasons:

• Some attend worship with the primary reason of learning some new insights about our faith.  For them, worship is primarily a teaching-learning experience.
• Others attend worship with the primary reason of experiencing fellowship with our fellow-worshippers.  For them, worship is primarily a community-building experience.
• Yet others (including myself) attend worship with the primary reason of becoming more aware of the closer presence of God.  Worship for us is primarily an experience of communion with the Sacred.

For most of us, all three motivations are present, but one or two may predominate.  These are all distinctions of emphasis, not of exclusivity.

Nevertheless, those of us for whom the motivation of communion with the Sacred is an important dimension of our worship have been finding the current situation particularly difficult.  In response to this, it may be a wise pastoral strategy for congregations to celebrate Holy Communion during the weeks, months, and even years following the resumption of public worship far more frequently than we’ve been in the habit of doing.

2.  The second suggestion is that some congregations may find themselves offering more services of worship at different times, but with fewer people at each. particularly given:

• a gradual easing of the numbers permitted for public gatherings (as seen in the timetables offered by federal and state governments), and
• a continued need for physical distancing even while restrictions for public gatherings are eased,

For some congregations – either for very small congregations, or for congregations of any size gathering for worship in spacious worship centres – this will not be an issue. 

For other congregations (i.e., any large congregation, or any congregation whose pre-coronavirus attendance at worship more closely matches the capacity of their worship centre), the easing of restrictions will necessarily mean fewer people attending any one service of worship, but with more services being held.

With this situation, I believe three things can follow:

• The first is that these services of worship can, perhaps, be more specifically focused.  Rather than a congregation having a single service of worship in a “blended” (or, as I sometimes call it, “blanded”) style, the various services could reflect different styles and emphases.
• The second is that the long-dormant Sunday evening worship service may be revived in some congregations, but with one major difference.  Rather than being offered as a “second helping” of worship for those who are already strongly-committed to the congregation’s life (as was the case for most of these services before they were dropped by most congregations), this service can be an alternative to Sunday morning worship for those within the congregation’s networks for whom Sunday morning is not the best time to gather for worship.
• The third is that ministers serving congregations with multiple worship services may find themselves spending far more time and energy being the worship leaders they were called, educated, trained, and ordained/commissioned to be, rather than merely being the congregation’s “CEO” or the denomination’s local “branch manager”.

I see all these as highly desirable side-effects of our current situation.

3.  The third suggestion is that, with the ongoing need for continued physical distancing, members of our congregations will get into the habit of showing more respect for each other’s personal space. 

In many congregations, some individuals have been in the habit of greeting their fellow-worshippers during the Sharing of the Peace with an enthusiastic embrace that frequently appears to be uncomfortably similar to a sexual grope.  When calls for restraint in these embraces are made (either on behalf of the congregation or by the gropees themselves) in the name of making the worship service a safe space, these requests (and, sometimes, demands) are frequently met with a disingenuously stunned and offended reaction by the offenders.

As well, other worshippers have been in the habit of greeting their fellow-worshippers during the Peace (as well as before and after the service) with an aggressive “Bonecrusher” handshake that can be highly painful to people living with arthritis or with other orthopaedic conditions.

The ongoing need to maintain physical distancing as services of worship begin to recommence may put an end to the “Grope of Peace” and the “Liturgical Bonecrusher” in favour of (for example) an Asian–style “Namaste” greeting.  This would be a possible reform in our worship that many of us would welcome with enthusiasm.  (A more humourous alternative could be to bow or curtsey during the Peace like characters in a Jane Austen novel.)

4.  The fourth suggestion is that some congregations may continue to offer online worship, alongside face-to-face worship, even after the restrictions are fully lifted.  I don’t believe that every congregation currently worshipping online during this pandemic needs to do this, but it may be pastorally helpful to UCA members around Australia if some do. 

The congregations I believe should particularly consider continuing to offer worship online are those congregations reflecting a focused ethos or a specialised emphasis that may frequently not be found among the UCA congregations in many communities.

In particular, I believe that UCA congregations with a consciously “liturgical” ethos, an ethos frequently not found among UCA congregations in many communities, should continue to offer some online opportunities for worship as a ministry to UCA members living outside their immediate geographical area.  This particularly applies to congregations with a “liturgical” ethos which are also socially and pastorally inclusive.

Thinking ecumenically, I believe that similar opportunities regarding online worship are also particularly present for:

• Anglican parishes with a consciously Anglo-Catholic ethos, particularly those which serve as spiritual “oases” within the aridity of conservative evangelical dioceses,
• Roman Catholic parishes which seek to offer a combination of quality liturgy and a commitment to the ethos of the Second Vatican Council (as opposed to those ultra-conservative parishes which combine good liturgy with bad theology) , and
• congregations of evangelical denominations which also affirm a strong commitment to social justice and pastoral inclusion, in contrast to the ultra-conservative social ethos found among many evangelicals.

In conclusion, my observation is that, both in the Uniting Church and in other denominations, congregations in this part of the world have responded well and creatively to the challenges posed by the COVID-19 coronavirus.  Now, I believe we need to explore the challenges posed to the churches as the wider community eases its way out of the pandemic.

 

 

“A Dalek-shaped god or a Jesus-shaped God?: The choice is yours.” (a sermon)

The scripture lesson on which the sermon is based comes from Paul’s letter to the Galatians, and is a combination of parts of two weeks’ readings from the lectionary.

 

 

I’m not a science fiction enthusiast.  Murder mysteries are my guilty pleasure.

While I’m not a science fiction enthusiast, I enjoy watching the occasional episode of “Doctor Who”.  Anyone who’s ever watched any episodes of “Doctor Who” would know of the Daleks, who are Doctor Who’s enemies par excellence.  The Daleks are creatures which are part-living beings and part-machines.  They look like vacuum cleaners on steroids, and have a large gun-like contraption where their noses should be.

The Daleks are not merely out for world domination, but for universal domination, and are willing and able to destroy anything that stands in their way.  Whenever the Daleks are on the march, their war cry is always the same:  “Exterminate!  Exterminate!”

 

 

Sadly, many of our neighbours think that the God we worship as Christians is a Dalek-shaped god, a petty little small-g god whose attitude toward most of humanity is one of condemnation.  They believe that we worship a god with an attitude of “Exterminate!  Exterminate!” toward anyone who doesn’t measure up to an impossible standard of perfection in their behavior.  That’s one of the main reasons why you wouldn’t find some of our neighbours in Church in a pink fit.  Who in their right mind would want to worship that sort of god?

Sadly, there are even some Christians who worship a Dalek-shaped god.  That sort of Christian makes a lot of noise and gets a lot of attention in the media, particularly when they’re politicians, rugby players, or other celebrities.  They’re the reason why many of our neighbours think you and I worship a Dalek-shaped god.  The worshippers of a Dalek-shaped god get a lot of attention in the media.  As a result, many people in the community think that’s the only sort of god on offer.

However, there is a real alternative to a Dalek-shaped god.  The alternative to a Dalek-shaped god is a Jesus-shaped God.  The alternative to a god who acts like a Dalek is a God who acts like Jesus.  The alternative to a small-g god of “Exterminate!  Exterminate!” is a big-G God who is radically inclusive, radically compassionate, and radically loving. 

This is the God of whom Paul writes in the letter to the Galatians, … the God in whom our human demographic differences become matters of enrichment and diversity rather than issues of destructive divisiveness, … the God who calls forth a collection of generous and inclusive virtues among his worshippers. 

The alternative to a Dalek-shaped god is the God whom you and I already worship.

We need to let our neighbours in on this secret.  The alternative to a Dalek-shaped god is the God whom you and I already worship.  But that won’t be easy, for three reasons.

1.   The first reason is that many people who worship a Dalek-shaped god are keen to bang on about their beliefs, while those of us who worship a Jesus-shaped God are much more reserved about sharing our faith.  We don’t like to bang on about religion.  We’ve been taught that banging on about religion  is as much a sign of poor taste as banging on about politics or sex, or (even worse) banging on about money.

It’s a bit like the way the purveyors of junk food and fast food advertise theirs wares constantly, while the producers of healthy food rarely advertise.  You’ll see a lot of ads for McDonald’s on TV, but very few ads for broccoli.  Similarly, the purveyors of junk religion bang on about their faith, while those of us who embrace a healthy religion often keep it to ourselves.

2.  The second reason is that the notion that all people in churches worship a god of “Exterminate!  Exterminate!” is far too ingrained in our culture.  (There’s the prevailing cultural stereotype about churches.  It used to be that the churches were full of wowsers and hypocrites.  Now, we’re full of wowsers, hypocrites, and paedophiles,) These stereotypes make it far easier for our neighbours to jump to the comfortable conclusion that’s there’s nothing in the churches that are relevant to their lives in any positive way.  It’s good to undermine this notion, but it won’t be easy.

3.  The third reason is, if we seek to let people in on the secret that we don’t worship a god of “Exterminate! Exterminate!”, we run the risk of being openly critical of those who do worship such a godlet.  We’re all far too “nice” to be fully comfortable in conflict.  We’ve often seen our faith calling us to follow the “gentle Jesus meek and mild”, the one who wants us (dare I say it?) to be his “sunbeams”.  

Many of us have been critical of the overly argumentative Paul, even when he does come up with some important affirmations about inclusivity, compasssion, and love.   (And it’s interesting to note that in the same letter we’ve read parts of today, Galatians, with its strong affirmation of inclusivity, is also a letter in which, at times, we find Paul at his grumpiest.) 

If we let our neighbours in on the secret that a Jesus-shaped God is a better God to worship than a Dalek-shaped one, we’ll come across as argumentative to those who are committed to worshipping a Dalek-shaped god.  We’ll cop some flak.  But the flak will be worth it.

In the 1980s, Adrian Plass wrote a series of screamingly funny books about a British congregation.  One of the members of the church was a man named Leonard Thynne, a sporadically recovering alcoholic who grew up as part of a rigid Brethren-like sect.  One Sunday, the congregation had a visiting preacher, a monk.  Leonard’s reaction to the monk’s sermon was this:  “He worships a different God to the one I grew up learning about.  His God’s nice!”

May we enable our neighbours to say the same thing about the God we worship.

A Prayer for the Sunday after an Election

Let us pray.

God of all nations and peoples, we give thanks for all those who made yesterday’s election possible:
·        for all party leaders,
·        all candidates,
·        all election officials,
·        all campaign workers and volunteers,
·        all journalists and commentators,
·        all satirists, comedians, and cartoonists,
·        all sizzlers of democracy sausages,
·        and particularly for all voters.

May we all be grateful for the generosity of those who have given freely of their time, their energy, their talents, their intelligence, and their passion to make yesterday a reality.

We pray for all those who now have been given great responsibilities by the voters, as members of either the House of Representatives or the Senate.  We particularly pray for …., representing this electorate of ..., and for those who will be representing this state of ... in the Senate.  Grant integrity, wisdom, humility, and compassion to all members of both houses of Parliament.

We pray for those candidates who have stood for office but lost, and for those candidates for whom the election result is still unclear.  Free each from a sense of anxiety, bitterness, self-righteousness, or self-loathing.

In case of a clear national result:

We pray for …. and his team as they prepare to form a government for the next Parliamentary term.  May they lead a wise and compassionate Government, governing in the interests of all the people, not merely in the interests of their supporters.

We pray also for those who will take on the responsibility of Opposition.   May they undertake the tasks of keeping the Government accountable in a robust way, but without bitterness or negativity.

 

Without a clear national result yet:

As the national result of the election is still unclear, we pray for all who are coping with the ambiguities of yesterday’s election result.  Grant all involved a gracious patience, a cool head, a long fuse, an active sense of humour, and the ability to chill.

We pray for us all.  May each of us have a clear commitment to the well-being of all with whom we share this nation and this world, regardless of:

·        their race or their culture,
·        their faith or their philosophy,
·        their gender or their sexuality,
·        their political convictions or their political apathy.

We pray in the name of Jesus, who gave us all the mandate to love one another.  Amen.

 

“We need a little Lent, right this very minute.”: a sermon (Matthew 6: 1 – 21, Luke 4: 1 – 13)

Today’s sermon was a work in progress for the past week-and-a-half.  It began to take shape in my mind around the time when the result in a high-profile criminal trial was announced.  (Given the fact that there’s an appeal in process and the matter is still sub judice, I won’t be commenting on the actual trial or the actual charges.)  The sermon has changed a bit during the past week-and-a-half.  As a result, the sermon has had a number of working titles.

·        It began as “Observing Lent even in the age of Donald Trump and George Pell.”   

·        It morphed into “Even at a time when arrogance is treated as a civic and religious virtue, let’s do Lent anyway.”

·        I’ve eventually settled on “We need a little Lent, right this very minute”.

Let us pray. 

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer.  Amen.

In your order of worship, you’ll find a copy of a drawing by the very talented cartoonist Jay Sidebottom.  The scene is during a worship service on Ash Wednesday.  As the minister is about to put some ash on the forehead of a member of the congregation, she says,   “Remember that you are dust…”, but then she adds “…but a very high quality sort of dust.” 

There’s some real and profound theological truth to this.

We are dust.

·        In contrast to the eternal God, the God who is Life itself, we are mortal; we are finite.

·        In contrast to the God of Love, the God who is Compassion itself, we struggle to reflect the love of God in any consistent way in our own lives.

We are dust.  Lent reminds us we are dust.

Nevertheless, we are “a very high quality sort of dust”. 

·        We have been created in the image of God, with a capacity for rational, logical thought.

·        We have been created in the image of God, with a capacity to appreciate beauty, both in the world of nature and in the achievements of human art.

·        We have been created in the image of God, with a capacity for ethical choice.

·        We have been created in the image of God, with a capacity to express love.

·        We have been created in the image of God, with a capacity to worship the God in whose image we live, and move, and have our being.

We are “a very high quality sort of dust”.  And Lent should also remind us of that.

This is tremendously important.  There are many people for whom a warped, ultraconservative religious faith – Christian or otherwise - has taught them a destructive sense of low self-esteem, in which they believe that the true response of true faith is to always think, “I’m evil; I’m evil; I’m horrible; I’m horrible!”  An approach to faith – Christian or otherwise – which encourages this low self-esteem is a sick faith.

A healthy faith - again, Christian or otherwise – reminds us that we are “a very high quality sort of dust”. 

Lent challenges our personal arrogance.  We are dust.  Lent also reminds us that we are people living in the image of God.  We are “a very high quality sort of dust”. 

In both readings from scripture we’ve used today, we see both these concerns.

The lesson from Matthew was the gospel reading for Ash Wednesday.  Jesus is teaching his disciples about religious practices, good and bad.  Our practice of the faith shouldn’t call attention to ourselves and our own piety.  Long-winded, ex tempore prayers are unnecessary (particularly if they’re packed with pious jargon).  Don’t whinge or look dismal when fasting.  When you give to the poor, do it in a way that advances social justice and shows respect for the people you’re helping, not in a way that entrenches dependence or which insults and embarrasses the person who needs help. 

The lesson from Luke is the gospel reading for today, the First Sunday in Lent.  Jesus resisted the temptation to focus on his own immediate needs.  He resisted the temptation to go for a flashy, showbiz, special effects approach to the life of faith.  He also resisted the temptation to give in to despair and say “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

In both of these lessons, we are challenged, as those who seek to follow Jesus, to be “a very high quality sort of dust”. 

Those who remember the musical “Mame” will remember the song “We need a little Christmas”, sung by Dame Angela Lansbury (and, as we all know, there’s nothing like a Dame).  If you don’t remember the musical, you’ll know the song from watching “Carols by Candlelight” on TV.  Anyway, I’d like to paraphrase Dame Angela’s song by saying, “We need a little Lent, right this very minute.”  (Oh, blow it, I’ll sing it.)  “We need a little Lent, right this very minute.” 

And the reason we “need a little Lent” is that Lent challenges our arrogance.  Lent reminds us all that we are dust, even if it is “a very high quality sort of dust”.   Looking at the rampant arrogance in the world around us, I believe “We need a little Lent, right this very minute.” 

And here, I suppose is where the “colourful American political identity” and the “colourful Australian religious identity” I mentioned earlier both come into the picture.  We live in a time in history in which arrogance is treated as a virtue.  If the 1980s was the decade in which people believed “greed is good”, we’re living now at a time in which many people believe that arrogance is a civic and religious virtue. 

In the realm of business, in the realm of the media, in the realm of politics, and, sadly, in the realm of faith, some people are trying to tell us that we’re living in a “post-truth” era.  In other words, you can talk the worst rubbish imaginable, but if you seem sufficiently sure of yourself (arrogantly sure), people will follow you.  Sadly, it is possible for an arrogant con-man to become a senior leader either in the body politic or in the household of faith.  When this happens, it undermines the credibility of all the institutions in the community.

“We need a little Lent, right this very minute.” 

Lent challenges our arrogance.  Lent reminds us that we are dust.  … Donald Trump is dust. … George Pell is dust. … I’m dust.  … You’re dust.

“We need a little Lent, right this very minute.” 

And, at the end of Lent, Easter will once again remind us that we are “a very high quality sort of dust.”  

Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Some (rambling) reflections on the Pell case

To begin with, I was not present in the courtroom during any session of this trial.  I didn't hear any of the evidence first-hand.  My reactions are based on second-hand information, just like those of any other consumer of the media.

Secondly, I have no vested interest in the outcome of this case. 

• I'm not a survivor of child sexual abuse. 
• I'm not a lawyer.
• I'm not a member, lay or ordained, of the Roman Catholic Church. 

I am a retired minister of another Christian denomination (Uniting Church in Australia) that enjoys good ecumenical relations with the Roman Catholic Church across Australia.  I also spent a decade working as a staff member of an ecumenical body with active Catholic membership.  In any event, I think I qualify as an "objective but informed" commentator and an "educated amateur", whatever that means.

My initial reaction, given that I wasn't in court to hear the evidence being presented, is to trust the intelligence of the jury.  Occasionally, as in the case of Lindy and Michael Chamberlain, juries get it wrong.  More often than not, juries get it right.  I'm working from the overt assumption, unless decided otherwise by the appeals court, that the jury got it right this time.

I have some real concerns about the public reaction to this case.  Much of the public comments (whether in social media, or in the traditional media, or in conversations among people in private settings) tend to fall into two disturbing patterns.  Many (but not all) of those who endorse the jury's verdict have tended to express either an establishment anti-Catholicism or a bogan religiophobia in support of their views.  On the other hand, many (but not all) of those who question the verdict have tended to minimise the seriousness of the impact of child sexual abuse on the survivors, victims, and their families.  Both of these extreme tendencies have the effect of cheapening and coarsening our public discourse.

One fact that I find interesting about the reaction to this case is that (discounting the politicians and media people who can always be counted upon to get on the bandwagon supporting whatever happens to be the right-wing cause du jour), a significant number of those who have publicly questioned the Pell verdict are people who were strong and consistent critics of Cardinal Pell during his period of ascendancy in Australia's Catholic hierarchy.  There are people other than Cardinal Pell's "yes-men" and "fan club" who are questioning his verdict.

Those questioning this verdict need to be aware that, in any legal case involving accusations of sexual assault (in which the only people present during the alleged assault are often the complainant and the accused, and no one else), the legal rules of evidence are (necessarily) different from other cases.

Similarly, those of us who happen to support the jury's verdict need to be aware that court cases are based on law and evidence, not on public opinion.  The fact that the majority of the population happens to believe that a defendant is guilty has no relevance to the outcome of a court case.  Public opinion carries no weight in the legal system.

Some comments have compared the case of Cardinal Pell to that of Lindy Chamberlain.  In a real sense, the early (and false) public perception of Mrs. Chamberlain's guilt was based on her own naïvete in assuming that the tragic disappearance of her child was an occasion for her to bear public witness to her own faith, leading to the false belief that Mrs. Chamberlain had a harsh and uncaring attitude to her child.  Whatever adjectives you want to use for George Pell, naïve is probably not high on your list.

 

I believe a better high profile Australian case to which to compare the Pell case is one from a few decades earlier than the Chamberlain case, the case of Professor Sydney Sparkes Orr in the 1950s.  Professor Orr was dismissed from his position at the University of Tasmania for seducing a student.  He sued the University for unjust dismissal, with the case (and its subsequent appeals) becoming somewhat of a legal marathon.  In the course of the trials and appeals, according to my reading of accounts of the case, Orr's abrasive personality and his personal arrogance were factors resulting in stiffening the resolve of his opponents and frustrating his supporters.  Can this be an apt parallel between the Orr and Pell cases?

 

I am personally worried that the Pell case may signal the beginning of a renewed period of anti-Catholic bigotry (never really far from the surface) here in Australia.  I've seen public comment asserting the idea that the Roman Catholic Church is a sinister institution at its heart, and that individual Catholics (or, at least, those who are practicing) have no moral right to express opinions on this case.  As a person whose social media profiles often list my profession as "ecumenist", I must object to this in the strongest possible terms.

In a real way, a renewal of anti-Catholic bigotry in the wider community will not hurt Cardinal Pell nor the various Pell wannabees in the hierarchy.  Nor will it hurt the various ultraconservative Catholics whom some commentators describe as "Brideshead Catholics" (from Evelyn Waugh's novel Brideshead Revisited) and whom I've been known to describe as the "Scientology wing" of the Roman Catholic Church.  (1)  They would just love it if the relations between Catholics and the rest of the community reverted to being as bad as they were during the bad old days of the 1950s.  It would increase their own influence within the Catholic Church far more than they deserve.

The people whom I fear would be most hurt by a renewed growth in anti-Catholic bigotry would be the good, solid everyday Catholics we all know in our daily lives, the people I call the "Mrs. Duffy Next Door Catholics".  These are people who are regular attenders at Mass.  They appreciate the reforms of the Second Vatican Council, but would like to see the reforms go just a little further, even if it's nothing all that radical.  For example, the formidable "Mrs. Duffy" would like to see her divorced-and-remarried brother, her Baptist sister-in-law, and her gay son be able to receive Communion when they show up at Midnight Mass next Christmas Eve.  A rise in anti-Catholic bigotry in the community would hurt "Mrs. Duffy" far more than it would hurt the "Brideshead-Scientology" crowd in the RC Church .

Ultimately, we need to realise that life is more complicated than a television drama.  In a murder mystery on TV, it goes without saying that the character who is portrayed as an arrogant, ultra-conservative, hyper-moralistic cleric will turn out to have a few skeletons of a sexual nature in his closet.  Life is far more complicated than an episode of Midsomer Murders, however. 

The jury has done its job.  (In my own opinion, I believe they did it well, but I could be wrong.)  Now it is time for the appellate court to do its job.  Let's allow the legal system to continue to function.

The two things with which I want to conclude, whatever your opinions on the facts of this case, are these:

• For the sake of the survivors and victims of child sexual abuse in any context, secular or religious, do not minimise the impact of child sexual abuse on the survivors and victims.
• For the sake of the wholeness of our culture, do not add to the level of bigotry already expressed to, and experienced by, Australian Catholics.

    

  

  

  

  

(1)   I'm not singling out Catholics here.  I've also been known to speak of the "Jehovah's Witnesses" wing of the Anglican Communion (i.e., Sydney-style evangelicals) and the "Playschool wing" of the Uniting Church.

On the Sunday after Christmas, the Lectionary gave to me ... forty-two blokes a-begetting, ... five feisty females, ... and a passage we ignored in Seminary: a sermon (Matthew 1:1-17)

This is the first time in my life I’ve ever preached on today’s gospel lesson.  Normally, I use the three-year Revised Common Lectionary when I preach.  Today’s lesson, from the Narrative Lectionary, doesn’t appear in the three-year lectionary on any Sunday.

The only times I ever use the Narrative Lectionary for preaching are those occasional Sundays when I lead worship here at Hobart North. 

It’s the passage that, in theological seminary, we called (using a bit of King James-ish terminology) “the begats”. (“Abraham begat Isaac, and Isaac begat Jacob,” and so on and so on.)  And there was a whole lot of begatting going on.  (Or, rather, there was “a whole lot of begetting”.  It was one of those irregular verbs:  beget, begat, begotten.)  Anyway, the passages of scripture with all the “begats” were passages I never really studied as a theological student, and neither did most of my colleagues.

But, in the midst of all these men with polysyllabic names (from Aminadad to Zerubbabel) all begetting like crazy, it now seems (according to a growing number of New Testament scholars today) that the real meaning of this passage is found, not so much in the forty-two men begetting with enthusiasm, but in the five women who are also mentioned in the passage.

As a result, I gave my sermon a title which I think is best sung:   “On the Sunday after Christmas, the lectionary gave to me: … forty-two blokes a-begetting, … five feisty females, … and a passage we ignored in Seminary.”

Two gospels give us a genealogy of Jesus, near or at the beginning of the gospel, Matthew and Luke.  While there are a number of differences in detail between the genealogies, there are two big differences between these two genealogies:

• The first difference is that Matthew’s version of the genealogy of Jesus goes back to Abraham, while Luke’s genealogy goes back to the dawning of human life.
• The second difference is that the genealogy found in Luke is an all-male list, while Matthew’s version mentions five very significant women.

These differences can both be seen as a result of the different cultural contexts of these gospels.  Matthew wrote his gospel for a congregation with a background in Jewish faith and culture, while Luke wrote for a congregation of Graeco-Roman gentiles.

• Matthew wanted to demonstrate that Jesus lived within the context of Abraham obeying the command of God to venture out into the desert with the message of God’s call to faith.  Luke wanted to put Jesus into a more universal context of the life of the whole human race.
• Luke’s readers, though, were Graeco-Roman sexists who were not terribly interested in the accomplishments of women.  On the other hand, Matthew’s readers came from a Jewish background and honoured those feisty women who, throughout the history of their people, stepped up to the plate and did God’s thing, particularly at times when their menfolk were faltering.

Increasingly, many New Testament scholars today – of a variety of denominations, and of both genders - say that the real key to the meaning of Matthew’s version of Jesus’s genealogy is found in these five women.

Anyway, let’s have a quick look at the “five feisty females” mentioned by Matthew.

Tamar provided an example in the scriptures of what we, in recent months, could call a “Me Too” moment.  She had experienced incest, and it took place as part of a complicated story.  She nearly was put to death because of her irregular pregnancy, but talked her way out of it in a way that led the man who caused her pregnancy to admit his own fault.

Then there’s Rahab.  She was a prostitute, probably the “madam” of her brothel.  She wasn’t Jewish herself, but a citizen of Jericho.  She hid the spies sent by Joshua to check out the land, and lied about it when the authorities came looking for them.  There’s no two ways about it.  Rahab served God by betraying her country.

Like Rahab, Ruth was also foreign.  She was an immigrant, one of that great class of people whom the less salubrious sort of politicians today, those who inhabit the sordid underbelly of politics, like to condemn, without looking at their solid contributions to society.  The story of the romance of Ruth and Boaz (Rahab’s son, according to Matthew) became the great “romcom” of the Old Testament.  Ruth herself became the great-grandmother of King David. 

Speaking of David, we then come to Bathsheba, who isn’t mentioned here by name but is merely called “the wife of Uriah”.  This is another “Me, Too” moment in the genealogy of Jesus.  The rape of Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah definitely constituted the ethical low point of David’s reign.  And, morally, it was rape.  What with David being a king, Bathsheba would not have had the power to consent or not to consent.   It was a definite “Me, Too” moment.

And then we come to Mary, who is really much more interesting than the demure young woman in the blue dress whom we see in statues, paintings, icons, and nativity sets.  When she reflected on the significance of the child whom she was to bear, she celebrated the idea of the powerful being brought down from their thrones and the lowly being lifted up, of the hungry being filled with good things and the rich being sent away empty.  This was one radical lady.  As they say on the TV talk shows, “You go, girl!”

And the birth of Jesus took place in the context of the lives of these “five feisty females”, just as much as it did in that of the “forty-two blokes a-begetting”.  And many scholars today believe the “five feisty females” are the real key to understanding why this list of polysyllabic names is found in the gospel, more than as an endurance test for people who read lessons in worship.

Anyway, what takeaways can we find from the “five feisty females” in Jesus’s genealogy, according to today’s gospel?

The first is this:   We find God in the presence of those whom our society and culture despises.

The second is this:   We find God in the presence of those who choose to live with courage and compassion.

I’ll repeat that.  It’s important.

We find God in the presence of those whom our society and culture despises.

We find God in the presence of those who choose to live with courage and compassion.

“On the Sunday after Christmas, the lectionary gave to me: … forty-two blokes a-begetting, … five feisty females, … and a passage we ignored in Seminary.”

"Baby, It's Cold Outside!": a cultural and ethical reflection

This month, there's been some controversy in North America over a song.  A number of radio stations in the USA and Canada have been removing the song "Baby, I's Cold Outside" from their playlists over the Christmas holiday season, given concerns that the song depicts a seduction that may not be 100% consensual on the part of the woman in the encounter.  The controversy over the song follows many of the concerns of the "Me Too" movement, following the revelations concerning sexual harassment and, at times, actual sexual assault by a number of high-profile figures in business, politics, entertainment, and the law.

Anyway, the song was removed from the playlists of a few radio stations, and the strident response from some political and cultural ultra-conservatives was predictable.  (Can one of you gentlemen please inform me which amendment protects the "right of seduction"???) 

Part of me is actually rather surprised that the inhabitant of the Oval Office has not yet entered the fray on this one, describing (for example) "Baby, It's Cold Outside" as one of his "favourite Christmas carols" in a similar way as he once described "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" as his "favourite Bible verse".

It's all complicated by the fact that the song, in recent years, has become associated with the Christmas holiday season, even though the song doesn't mention Christmas (or, for that matter, any other holiday).  Because the song is set in the winter, when "... it's cold outside", it's become a song that's played a lot in the lead-up to Christmas, and then disappears from the airwaves even though (in North America) winter continues (and, in many areas, intensifies) during the months following Christmas.  (It's even funnier here in Australia, where it's played during the lead-up to Christmas in early summer.) 

"Baby, It's Cold Outside" isn't alone here.  Other songs with a generically winter theme which are almost exclusively associated with Christmas, even though they never mention Christmas in the actual song, include "Let it Snow!  Let it Snow! Let it Snow!", "Sleigh Ride", "Winter Wonderland", and even "Jingle Bells".

"Baby, It's Cold Outside" was never intended to be a song for the Christmas holidays.  The Broadway songwriter Frank Loesser (best known for "Guys and Dolls") wrote the song in the mid-1940s as a party piece for himself and his wife, the singer Lynn Garland.  In this piece, the sleaziness and sliminess of the man, and the naivete of the woman, were exaggerated for comic effect.  One factor in the comic effect of the song as a party piece in its early years was that the people hearing this song were well-aware that the two participants in that mock seduction scene were, in fact, a married couple.  A few years later, Loesser sold the song to a Hollywood studio for use in a film and it became a popular "lounge" standard, rather than merely the Loessers' party piece.

Once "Baby, It's Cold Outside" entered the public zone, rather than the social zone of the Loessers and their friends at private cocktail hours and dinner parties, the potential creepiness of the song began to speak for itself.

Contrast "Baby, It's Cold Outside" with another song from the mid-'40s with a generic winter theme, but which has also become a Christmas season standard, Sammy Cahn and Jule Stynes's "Let it Snow!  Let it Snow! Let it Snow!"   The "Baby, It's Cold Outside" guy is definitely trying to manipulate the young lady into bed, while the "Let it Snow!  Let it Snow! Let it Snow!" guy is far more of a gentleman, knowing that he and his girlfriend will not be spending the night together but, instead, realises that "... all the way home, I'll be warm."

All of this points to changing moral standards within our community.  In some ways, our moral standards have become more flexible since the days of my youth (and I happen to be a proud "Baby Boomer"), while in other ways, our standards have become far less flexible.

Ways in which our community moral standards have become more accepting and flexible since my own "Baby Boomer" youth include:

• a greater acceptance of LGBT people, 
• a greater acceptance of unmarried couples cohabiting, and of single parents,
• a greater acceptance of couples, married or otherwise, of different racial, religious, or cultural backgrounds.

My response to these social changes is, simply:  "Brilliant!"

Ways in which our community moral standards have become more demanding include:

• far less tolerance regarding adults sexually preying on underage people (with this change of values reflected in a number of high-profile court cases in a number of countries, some of which are still sub judice, so I'll say no more),  
• far less tolerance of married men having a "bit on the side", 
• far less tolerance of men seducing women who are not completely enthusiastic re the arrangement (even when the seduction falls short of actual rape or sexual assault), as illustrated in "Baby, It's Cold Outside".

My response to these social changes also is, simply:  "Brilliant!"

I believe that both sets of changes in values are definite improvements for the well-being of our culture.  The relaxation within some attitudes is very good.  The tightening up within other attitudes is equally good.

I'm not a fan of censorship, but I realise there's a significant difference between censorship and quality control.  If a radio station removes "Baby, It's Cold Outside", with its tale of a clumsy, ham-fisted seduction, from its December playlist, I believe it's less of an act of censorship than it is an act of quality control.