Archive for the ‘Lent’ Category

The time is now

February 20, 2016

Lent 2 – 2016    Luke 13:1-9

                                                                                                                                                Marian Free

In the name of God who, in an uncertain world calls us to the one thing that lasts for eternity – a relationship with God. Amen.

Whenever something awful or inexplicable happens it is not unusual to hear the questions – what or why? What did he ever do that he should experience something so terrible? Why did it happen to her? He did so much for others, she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why, why, why? In general, it seems that we try to make sense of terrible things by finding a reason for them. If only we could say that a person deserved what had happened to them or that they had done something to precipitate the events that had such terrible consequences we would find the tragedy more palatable.

At the same time there is a feeling that if we just knew the cause of a calamity or if we were able to place the blame on the victim then we could be both less disturbed by the event and in a position to ensure that a similar fate did not befall us. Knowing more would allow us could avoid the behaviour, the relationship or the activity that had such disastrous consequences for someone else. If we had more information, we could say to ourselves: “they deserved that”, “they were always taking risks”, or “we knew that person was no good for them”. Being able to think such things would not only reduce our state of anxiety, but have the added benefit of allowing ourselves to feel a certain smug satisfaction confident in the belief that because we don’t do those things that caused the problem we will almost certainly no come to harm.)

The problem is that life is not like that. Bad things do happen to good people. Innocent people can find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time and natural disasters are completely indiscriminate. Too often we can’t find an explanation for tragedy. The good do die young and the bad can seem to live forever.

Today’s gospel consists of two sayings and a parable – a pattern that is not unusual for Luke. Ostensibly people among Jesus’ audience have reported on a particularly nasty occurrence in the temple. We don’t know whether this or the event of the falling tower really happened ,but they serve to make the point that Luke has been driving home since the beginning of chapter 12. Now is a time for decision, a time to decide whether to turn to God or to continue to live in a way that doesn’t recognise the necessity of a relationship with God. Throughout that chapter Jesus urges the listeners to trust God with their future, to be prepared, to be able to read the signs. Jesus warns that he has come to bring fire to the earth. He has not come to bring peace – his presence will cause division. Now is the time to decide whether or not to follow Jesus. It is a decision that may be misunderstood and that may cause rifts with those who do not understand, but a time will come when it will be too late, when his listeners discover that they have turned their backs on God/Jesus for the last time, that they have set their faces and their lives irrevocably in the other direction.

It is against this background that we must understand today’s gospel. Jesus is calling his listeners (and therefore us) to turn their lives around. They must not think that just because nothing traumatic has happened to them that they are in some way better than those who have have had towers fall on them or who have had their blood mixed with sacrifices. No – as the gospels remind us over and over again – there is no hierarchy of sin against which we can measure ourselves, no form of measurement that lets us complacently sit back and assume that because we are ‘better’ than someone else that we have no more to achieve. The gospels are clear – sin is sin and anything less than perfection is imperfection. What saves us is not what we do, but what God does for us. This is why it is important that we “repent ” that we literally turn our lives around, stop focussing on ourselves and the things of this world and begin to focus on God and the things that endure for eternity.

Chapter twelve and the first few verses of thirteen are filled with a sense of urgency. Jesus is anxious that those who are following him make a decision that they don’t just listen but they also respond. They have the opportunity then and there to make to make up their minds to give their loves to God. Jesus is impatient. He cannot imagine why anyone would delay when there is so much on offer.

The language is so strong and the demand so insistent that it would be easy for us to lose heart to believe that we will never get there. However when we read on we discover that Jesus’ message is tempered by the parable that follows. Impatience and frustration don’t have the last word. There is room for a second chance. According to the parable, the fig tree has had three years to produce fruit. The impatient landholder thinks that that is more than enough time. Why should it take up space that a tree that produces fruit could use? “Chop it down!” he says. The gardener however is more temperate. He asks that the tree be given another chance and so it is. 

Just because God is patient is no reason for us to take advantage. Just because we think we have given ourselves to God does it mean that there is no room for improvement. Lent gives us time to think, time to ask ourselves what parts of our lives do we need to turn around, what aspects of our lives are we withholding from God’s scrutiny and God’s love our lives and in what ways do we fail to trust God with our present and our future?

None of us knows when our time will come. If it were today or tomorrow would we feel that we had done what we could to prepare? Would we wish that we had dealt with some of the things that mar the image of God in us? Would our relationship with God be such that we were ready to be face-to-face with our Creator?

Jesus reminds us that the time is now.

What are we waiting for?

No quick fix

February 13, 2016

                                                                       Lent 1 – 2016 – some thoughts                                                                                             Luke 4:1-15

                                                                                                                                                                  Marian Free

In the name of God who asks for all that we have so that God can give us all that we need. Amen.

Some time ago, I had surgery on my foot. As part of the healing process I was to keep off my foot for a fortnight and not drive for six weeks. It has to be said that even with lectures to prepare and movies to watch, two weeks stuck on a couch seemed like forever. Once the pain had diminished, it was tempting to move about to fill in the time in other ways, but in this instance I knew that a “quick” recovery meant doing what was required. So, bored and uncomfortable I stayed on the couch with my foot on a stool and moved about only when absolutely necessary.

It is tempting to cut corners, to avoid the hard yards that a good job requires. At first it might appear that it made no difference that we went back to work too soon, that we used an injured limb before the recommended time, that we didn’t properly prepare the timber before we painted, that we didn’t properly cream the butter and the sugar for our cake. In fact, there will be times that we don’t experience any ill consequences for our failure to do something properly. However, there will be times when the consequences of our failure to follow through are disastrous. A bad paint job will need redoing sooner rather than later, a cake that has not been properly stirred might be lumpy, but a limb that has not properly healed might cause us even worse problems later on, and a return to work when we have not fully recovered from an illness may mean that the infection returns – more virulent than before – and we lose even more time from work than had we been patient in the first place.

Here, at the beginning of his ministry, Jesus is offered a short cut, a way out of the difficult and painful course that lay before him. The tempter tells him that doesn’t have to be hungry. It would be easy enough for Jesus to turn stones into bread. As the Son of God Jesus he could simply enforce God’s rule, bend the wills of people to his own, there was no need to persuade and encourage. He didn’t have to endure the suffering and pain of the cross when he could simply call on the angels to save him.

Jesus has been driven into the wilderness to reflect on his call and on his role. The temptations are anything but theoretical. They reflect the very real choices that faced Jesus – to fully enter the human experience or to exert the power of his divinity, to impose his will or to draw people to his way of seeing things, to gain attention by being a miracle worker or by working beside people, to try to escape pain and suffering or to place his trust completely in God and believe that the cross would be worth it.

 

Forty days in the wilderness have taught Jesus that near enough would not be good enough and that easy solutions would not achieve the end goal. Jesus knew that people who were impressed by easy miracles would not stick around for the long haul, that loyalty that was forced would be no loyalty at all and that without the cross there would be no resurrection.

Jesus will be a very different sort of Christ from the one whom many expected. His leadership will be marked by service and his victory will look like defeat, but it will only be through his complete submission to God that Jesus will be able to restore the relationship between God and the people of God. So Jesus refuses to be drawn into the devil’s ruse, he resists temptation to take the easy way out and sets his mind to the task that is before him.

What is true for Jesus is true for us. Later in the gospel Jesus will ask the disciples: “Who do the crowds say that I am?” When Peter identifies him as the Christ, Jesus makes sure that the disciples know what this means telling them that he must suffer and be rejected and killed and that on the third day he will be raised. He goes on to say that those who follow him must set their minds to the same experience – figuratively if not literally. They must deny themselves and take up their cross daily. If they want to save their life, they must lose it.

Jesus’ life and death not only win our salvation, but they provide the model for our own spiritual lives. If we are to realise our full potential as children of God, we, like Jesus must be prepared to go the full distance, to put in the effort that is required, to give ourselves whole-heartedly and with conviction. In order to be formed into the image of Christ we must be prepared to stick with it,, to understand that short-term pain leads to long-term gain. We must try to see the big picture rather than getting caught up in the minutia of the every day. We must learn that near enough is simply not good enough.

Lent provides an opportunity for us to share Jesus’ wilderness experience, to ask ourselves once again, what it is that God wants of us. Lent allows us time and space to see how we are going, to ask ourselves whether we are content with the superficial or whether we are ready to explore the depths of our existence, to consider whether our focus is on the present or on eternity. Lent gives us space to ponder whether we trust God sufficiently to give ourselves completely to God or whether we are still holding something back, whether we understand that it is only by giving all that we have that we gain everything that we could ever want or need.

Lent forces us to ask whether we are just giving lip service to faith or whether we are really ready to allow God to be all in all.

How will you spend this Lent and will your practice equip you for the rest of your journey or will it simply fulfill the needs of the moment?

 

Alone with ourselves

February 21, 2015

Lent 1 – 2015

Mark 1:9-14

Marian Free

In the name of God who loves us as we are and invites us to do the same. Amen.

During a recent visit to Hobart we visited both Port Arthur and the Female Factory[1]. The latter was particularly shocking. At both prisons there was provision for solitary confinement. An Englishman John Howard promoted the idea as a more effective means of reform than prison. His belief was, that in isolation from others a convicted person would be forced to reflect on and repent of their crimes. His idea was first put into practice in the United States, then England and from there to Van Dieman’s Land. Prisoners would be locked in a cell for twenty-three hours of every day and allowed one hour only to exercise and even then they wore masks to prevent them from communicating with each other. The walls of the cells were thick to ensure that the convicts couldn’t hear each other. To maintain an atmosphere of silence, the guards wore slippers and “spoke” to each other through sign language. Even during the compulsory Chapel Service the prisoners wore masks and were separated from each other in separate stalls.

The cells were so small that the hammocks on which the men slept had to be rolled up during the day. They had a small table and a chair so that they could work and a bucket for personal needs. In the United States both the Chaplains and Doctors noticed that an abnormally high number of prisoners developed what today we would call “mental illness” and advocated that the practice be abandoned. In Van Dieman’s Land, the Comptroller of Convicts, John Hampton, supported by the Commandant at Port Arthur was a fervent supporter of the system.

A particularly abhorrent part of the practice of solitary confinement was that known as the ‘the dumb cell’ or punishment cell. This cell lay behind four thick doors and was completely light and sound proof. (It is possible to go inside a cell today and if you draw the door to, there is absolutely no light. The cell was so small that anyone taller than myself (5’3”) would have found it impossible to lie down, let alone move around.) The practice was abandoned when Port Arthur closed, but it is still used today both as a form of punishment and as a means of torture.

It is difficult for us to imagine just how demoralising and isolating such a situation can be. Being alone without any distraction allows self-doubt to surface and depression to follow. In the 1800’s a Danish prisoner who experienced solitary confinement wrote: “one was ‘instantly overpowered’ by a ‘depressing’ and ‘poignant solitude’ that went against the natural desire of ‘both men of nature and men of culture’ for a social life. A perpetual emptiness grinds away and throws the prisoner into a condition which borders on insanity’.[2]

This is depressing stuff, but it illustrates the disorienting affect of silence and isolation. A person is left with only their own resources to keep them from madness. Every fear, every anxiety is given an opportunity to come to the surface and there are no distractions. Such an extreme form of isolation, isolation imposed, rather than chosen is beyond cruelty.

Isolation and silence that is freely chosen is quite different, though the lack of distraction and conversation has a similar effect – albeit to a much lesser extent. Our work, our families and our social life all have the benefit of taking our minds off our troubles, of giving our lives meaning and helping us to identify our place in the world. In the midst of everyday life we can see where we “fit”. We are able to balance our troubles and problems against the good things in life and recognise that so many others are much worse off than ourselves. Without these identifies, we are like a boat that has come lose from its moorings, we are cast adrift, with nothing to hold on to. We are forced to depend on our own resources, or to place our trust firmly in God.

For many in religious orders, isolation and silence are a lifestyle choice. Away from the world practitioners are able to come to a fuller understanding of themselves – their resources and their strengths, their poverty of spirit and their weaknesses. Unfettered by the concerns of everyday life, they are able to make themselves totally available to God. On a much smaller scale, a Religious Retreat (especially if it is silent) provides a similar sort of experience. The Retreatant comes to a deeper awareness of their true nature and a deeper relationship with God.

We are told that after Jesus’ baptism the Spirit “drove him into the wilderness” where for forty days he was alone with himself and with God. Whatever sense of mission Jesus had before this time, it seems that it was crystallised at his baptism. Spirit-driven or not, it would not be surprising that Jesus needed some time out to think, to consider whether he was really up to the task – after all, for all that he was divine he was also fully human. Could the human side of him really be placed at the service of the divine? Could his divinity really be expressed, without his being tempted to compete with God? The time in the wilderness would have shown him what he was really made of. The isolation and the loneliness would have forced him to totally rely on God. It seems that whatever happened in the wilderness, Jesus returned to the world with a clear sense of purpose and a willingness to accept whatever it was that God had in store for him.

During Lent we are invited, in some small way, to share Jesus’ wilderness experience. By “giving up” something for Lent we are given an opportunity to see what we are made of and by allowing God to fill the space that we have created. Compared to forty days alone in the wilderness, or a lifetime of silence in a religious order, forty days of going without in the comfort of our own home, in the company of family and friends is nothing at all.

Lent is a gift, not a chore, an opportunity not an imposition. May your Lenten observance be a fruitful time of self-examination and spiritual growth.

[1] Female prison

[2] http://www.insidetime.org/resources/Publications/Solitary_Confinement_PSJ181.pdf, More recent descriptions of the experience of solitary confinement can be found in the book Evil Cradling that describes the experience of Brian Keenan who was taken hostage in Lebanon in the 1980’s and the diary of Mohamedou Ould Slahi who has been incarcerated in Guantanamo Bay even though several years ago he was found to be innocent.

Contradiction

March 2, 2013

Lent 3 – 2013

Luke 13:31-35 (Isaiah 55:1-9, 1 Cor 10:1-13)

Marian Free

In the name of God who turns our expectations upside down, who challenges and comforts us and who never, ever withdraws God’s love. Amen.

When you read the Bible, what are the passages that stand out for you? Are you more alert for the voice of judgement or the voice of love? Do you look out for the rules that you must not break and the specific directions that you must follow, or do you instead seek out the promises of growth and new creation? From start to finish, the Bible is full of contradiction.  In it we find both censure and approval, judgement and forgiveness, punishment and redemption, restraint and extravagance.

The Old Testament prophets threaten the Israelites with all kinds of penalties if they refuse to return to God then, almost without taking breath, they assure the people that God will never abandon them. Side by side in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Hosea and elsewhere we have evidence of God’s frustration and confirmation of God’s faithfulness. The Gospels express similar contradictions. Calls to repent are balanced by stories of the lost being restored. Jesus’ attacks on the righteous throw into relief Jesus’ acceptance of those outside the law.

This morning’s readings are a case in point. The generosity and free-spirited invitation of Isaiah 55 stands in stark contrast with the harsh, judgmental and condemnatory sentiments of 1 Corinthians 10.

How are we to make sense of the paradox – judgement and repeal, condemnation and forgiveness, law and freedom? It is my belief that both sides of the coin are necessary to sustain healthy individuals, healthy societies and healthy religions. Freedom is essential for creative energy to thrive, for people to love and be loved, for compassion and generosity. None of these things can be forced or legislated. On the other hand, lawlessness leads to disintegration, violence and repression. Without some sort of law no one can achieve their full potential.

There needs to be some sort of balance between law and freedom.  It is not healthy to be completely unrestrained, but neither is it good to be so restrained that we forget how to live. If we fence ourselves in with rules, we reduce our ability to be spontaneous and carefree. Somewhere in the middle is an equilibrium, an ability to self-regulate, to use the rules and the threats of judgement to control our baser instincts and to trust in God’s goodness and mercy to liberate our finer, more selfless characteristics.

Interestingly, in the Bible, it is not disobedience or even the breaking of the Ten Commandments which is the source of God’s anger and the pre-condition for punishment. What causes the prophets to proclaim God’s judgement and Jesus to condemn the people of Israel is a breakdown in the relationship between the people and God.

God doesn’t expect perfection. That much is clear in God’s choice of Jacob the deceiver, God’s selection of Moses the murderer and God’s continued love for David the adulterer. That God is not looking for flawless followers is demonstrated by Jesus’ choice of disciples, Jesus’ readiness to forgive and Jesus’ easy acceptance of tax collectors and sinners.

It appears that the primary safeguard against condemnation is not so much to be law-abiding (though that is good), but to accept God’s invitation to be in relationship, to trust God’s offer of a covenant, to believe in God’s faithfulness to God’s promises.

Jesus weeps over Jerusalem, not because its citizens have failed to keep the law _ if nothing else, the Pharisees were assiduous keepers of the law.  Jesus weeps because the people of Jerusalem, the leaders of the Jews, have demonstrated their inability to put their trust in God. The Pharisees, Chief Priests and Scribes have put all their trust in the law and their ability to keep the law. They are so sure that they can achieve perfection by their own effort that they have effectively locked God out of their lives. They have so little confidence in God’s love and faithfulness that they are using the law to paper over their imperfections. They are so afraid that scrutiny will find them wanting that they kill the prophets who hold a mirror to them and to their lives. They cannot have a real relationship with God because they cannot have a real relationship with themselves.

No wonder Jesus weeps, he understands that the Jerusalemites are so sure that God cannot love them as they are, that they not only try to become what they are not, but worse, they shrink from God, they refuse God’s invitation and will not be drawn into God’s loving embrace.

How different they are from Zacchaeus who has the courage to respond to Jesus’ invitation and who finds that his life is transformed as a result. How different from the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet, who could take such a risk because instinctively she knew that she was loved and accepted. “Law-breakers” and outsiders who already knew and accepted their imperfections welcomed Jesus’ love and invitation, entered into a relationship and allowed themselves to be gathered under his wings.

Law and freedom together create a necessary life-giving tension in our relationship with God. An over-reliance on law can have the effect of locking God out of our lives whereas an over-emphasis on freedom can lead us to believe that we don’t need God. It is important to relish our freedom, but to understand its bounds, to trust in God’s unconditional love, but not to use that love as an excuse to be unloveable, to recognise that law has its place, but not to use it as a replacement for relationship.

God invites us into a relationship that is based on mutual trust and respect. God offers us an unconditional love that sets us free to be ourselves. To say “yes” to God, is to say “yes” to ourselves and to know ourselves welcome in the shadow of God’s wings.

 

 

 

 

 

A matter of heaven or hell

February 23, 2013

Lent 2 – 2013

Luke 13:1-9

Marian Free

Figs

Figs

In the name of God who created all things, and saw that they were good. Amen.

Today’s gospel reading includes two discrete parts. A couple of sayings about repentance are followed by a parable about growth.  The first sayings certainly get our attention – Galileans whose blood Pilate mixed with their sacrifices and 18 crushed by a falling tower. Shocking as these events are they are not a sign that those killed were more sinful than others. All of us need to repent. Luke follows these sayings with the parable of the fig tree. Repentance alone is not sufficient, believers are called to grow into full maturity rather than to rest on their laurels for the remainder of their lives. (Salvation is not dependent on a one off decision, but process that begins when we repent and turn to God.)

Jesus’ parable about the fig tree is often misunderstood. An emphasis on keeping the ten commandments and doing good works has led to the conclusion that if the fig tree will only be spared if it produces fruit, that we will only be spared if we can manage to build up a folio of good works that can be measured on the day of judgement. However, in this instance, as in most cases in the New Testament, fruit represents much more than external deeds or measurable goodness. As the parable implies, the fig’s bearing fruit is dependent on its receiving enough fertilizer – that is, on its internal health. Fruit trees in general are very reliant on nourishment, they cannot bear fruit unless they have been properly fed and watered. (The first and only time that my parent’s persimmon bore fruit was the year after the ’74 flood had deposited a substantial amount of fertile silt on their garden.)

Many fruit trees need to reach maturity before they bear fruit. Figs generally take two or three years to be well enough established to produce figs and then they will produce best only if they have been given a good start in life – planted in the right situation and fed and watered well. Without help, a fruit tree will probably attain a reasonable height and appear to be growing well, but without the required fertiliser, no amount of growth will produce fruit.

It is possible that Luke combined the sayings about repentance with the parable of the fig tree because he understood that a change of heart (repentance) was required before growth (maturity) could occur. Conversely, repentance alone is not enough, but is a pre-requisite for future development. A change of heart – repentance – creates the sort of internal environment that allows fruit (the external evidence of change and growth) to be produced. That being the case, it becomes clear that Jesus is speaking of fruit (behaviour) which is driven by a relationship with God that is strong and healthy and which is nurtured and developed by the presence of the Holy Spirit. Seen in this light, fruit refers much less to good deeds and much more to the characteristics that result from such a change of heart.

Paul understood this when he wrote of the fruit of the spirit. When he lists the fruit he doesn’t refer to keeping the commandments or doing good deeds but to the external signs of a person at peace with God, with themselves and with the world. Love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, patience and self-control are the fruit that we are to bear. These are the characteristics that will be a sign of our growing spiritual maturity.

Jesus’ challenge to the disciples that they are not to make the mistake of believing that their turning to him (repentance) is some simplistic, easy fix that will ensure their salvation. Turning to Jesus is only the first step in a process of development that will continue for the rest of their lives and that development, as the parable indicates, will need to be encouraged, fed and nurtured.

Richard Rohr considers spiritual development in his book Falling Upward – a spirituality for the two halves of life[1]. He argues that many people never develop beyond the superficial declaration of faith. Having come to faith, they fail to feed and nurture the depths of their being such that they bear meaningful fruit as a result of their faith. Because they do not pay enough attention to what is going on internally, their external lives never really change. They cannot bear fruit because they have not developed a healthy spirituality that can drive their behaviour.

Rohr suggests that this internal growth is at the core of all religious practice and that it is essential not only for the individual but for the world as a whole. This he claims is because: “God gives us our soul, our deepest identity, our True Self, our unique blueprint at our own ‘immaculate conception’. We are given a span of years to discover it, to choose it and to live our destiny to the full. Our True Self will never be offered again”. The unique person that is ourself has this life only to be the unique person God intends us to be, to achieve the unique goals God has in mind for us and to contribute to the world the unique gifts with which God has endowed us. Our one essential task in this life is to discover and to be that True Self, that unique part of God’s creation. Rohr believes that this task is absolutely imperative for all of us. Heaven and earth, all that is, depend upon our trying to become the person God intended us to be.

Because the implications of this task are so vast, its importance cannot be underestimated. In fact, Rohr suggests, it is because so much is dependent on our spiritual health that the discussion surrounding it is accompanied by such emotionally charged words as “heaven” and “hell”. It is why the vineyard owner threatens to uproot the tree when it is not fulfilling its purpose, why the call to repentance is set in the context of such shocking stories as the slaying of the Galileans and the fall of the Tower of Siloam. The consequence of not nurturing our souls is not something to be taken lightly – it has ramifications for the future of the whole world.

If we allow ourselves grow into our souls, to become the unique being envisaged by God at our creation, God’s purpose not only for us but for the world will be achieved. If we do not grow into our own unique being we hinder God’s purpose, we fail to make our own unique contribution and we refuse the invitation to take part in bringing about the coming of God’s Kingdom.

The purpose of the fig is to bear figs. Without fruit it is taking up space, that could be used to grow something else. It is not fulfilling the purpose for which it was created. Our purpose is to grow into our full identity, that unique self that God has given us and by doing so to share with God in bringing about the kingdom, the salvation of the world.

 


[1] Rohr, Richard. Falling Upward – a spirituality for the two halves of life. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2011, ix. Note: I acknowledge that I have used Rohr as my starting point, but I am aware that  he may not agree with my use of his premise.

The wilderness of our hearts

February 16, 2013

Lent 1 – 2013

Luke 4:1-13

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who longs for us to see ourselves more clearly and having done so to submit ourselves to the transforming power of God. Amen.

‘Sugar and spice and all things nice, that’s what little girls are made of. Slugs and snails and puppy dog tails, that’s what little boys are made of.’ To think that many of us used to recite this silly, sexist rhyme! But what are we made of? Beyond the obvious skin and bones, do many of us really know what lies beneath? Do we really know our strengths and recognise our weaknesses? Do we know what triggers or events might lead us to act nobly and selflessly? Alternately, can we begin to imagine forces or situations which would lead us to behave basely or cruelly?

I suspect that it is impossible to know ahead of time how we will react in situations that demand courage, resilience or moral fortitude. Fear, timidity and an unwillingness to stand out from the crowd can prevent people from acting as they should or worse, they can cause people to behave in ways that are cowardly, cruel and self-serving. History is littered with instances of good people failing to act in the face of evil. The past is crowded with examples of a mob mentality leading otherwise reasonable people to behave in violent or rash ways. The world stood silent in the face of the Nazi gas chambers and still seems unable to act against oppressive or unjust regimes.  The insanity of the mob leads to disregard for law and order and the destruction of property as was witnessed in Brixton, in Cronulla and elsewhere.

After the event, those who were silent might say: “I was too afraid to speak out.” Those who were caught up with the crowd might respond: “I thought they would kill me if I didn’t join in.” There is always a reason or justification for such behaviour. No one likes to believe that they deliberately acted in a way that led to or contributed to another’s injury or harm or which saw another abased or killed because of their failure to act. No one likes to think that they could have a propensity for cruelty or indifference, that they would join in with the crowd or that they would stand silent in the face of grave injustice.

On the other hand, the past is equally populated with ordinary people who, in the face of danger, have exhibited extraordinary courage and who have risked their own safety to save the life of another – the by-stander who pulls a person from a burning car, the surfer who without thought rushes to the aid of someone attacked by a shark, the solider who exposes him or herself to enemy fire, to save another who is injured or dying. Every day, in a variety of different circumstances, people like you and I show what they are really made of. When asked about their heroic acts, such people often reply: “I didn’t think – I just did what needed to be done.” They don’t think of themselves as heroes because their action was so spontaneous. Until confronted with the situation they may not have known that they had such courage in them.

Some among us may have faced such challenges and may have confidence to know how they will respond in the face of danger or when someone is needed to speak out. Others of us can only imagine and hope that we would meet every difficulty and danger with grace, that even at the cost of our own lives we would challenge oppression, cruelty and injustice and that we would seek to heal and be healed, to understand and forgive (even if at first sight, healing, understanding and forgiveness is impossible to imagine).

The sad reality is that apathy, cruelty and lust for power exist side by side with integrity, compassion and selflessness in every human being and until we are tested we cannot be 100% sure how we will respond. Fortunately, it is not often that we are put to the test.

For Jesus it was different. Jesus had a very particular task. Jesus was called by God to serve God in the world and to bring about the salvation of humankind. This was a task that could only be achieved if Jesus was prepared to submit his life completely to God. Anything less would jeopardise the whole endeavour. His was a weighty responsibility. Jesus (and perhaps God) had to be sure that he was up to the task. He (and God) had to know that when it came to the crunch, he would not bow down to earthly authority, he would not waver in the face of opposition and he would not give up before the job was complete.

There was no opportunity for a dress rehearsal. Jesus only had one chance. When the moment came to be strong, to speak out or to suffer, Jesus had to know that he would not back down but would continue on the path that was set before him. So the spirit led him to the wilderness – to the emptiness and silence, to a place where there were no distractions, nothing to take his mind off himself, no social structures to ensure that his baser instincts were suppressed. In the desert then, Jesus came up against the darker side of himself. Deprivation and isolation brought to the surface ideas that may, until then, have been suppressed. He could do so much with the power that was his! Given who he was and the power that was at his disposal, it would have been easy for him to be self-serving (to use his gifts to enrich himself). Given God’s love and care for him, it would have been easy for him to take risks with his own safety, to force God to always be on the look out for him, protecting him and keeping him out of harm’s way. Then again, he could use his power for his own aggrandisement, he could force the world to bow to him and not to God.

Jesus heard the voice of his “other self”, the voice of temptation whispering in his ear – what he could do if he wanted to! He knew though, that this was not the self that he wanted to be – a self separated from and in competition with God. Using the words of scripture he pushed the other voice out of the picture and demonstrated that he could withstand every test and that he was ready to answer the call of God.

Finding out who we are and of what we are capable is one of the goals of Lent. Through fasting or prayer or giving up something that we thought we could do not without we create space in our lives. We make our own small internal wilderness and we can be surprised by what longings, what emotions, what insecurities rise to the surface.

In the stillness of this wilderness it is harder to escape from who we are. In the silence of this desert it is harder to quell thoughts we would rather ignore. In this place, without our usual distractions, we can come face-to-face with who we really are.

We can spend a lifetime running away from ourselves, avoiding our deeper issues, burying parts of ourselves that we wish were not there at all or we can take time out, have the courage to see who and what we really are and with the help of God dispel the demons that drive us and build up the character that we want to define us

Dust to Dust

February 12, 2013

Ash Wednesday – 2013

Dust to dust

I have just discovered a writer – William Stringfellow. He was quoted in another book and I was so impressed that I bought one of his books immediately. In A Simplicity of Faith, Stringfellow reflects on the death of his close friend Anthony Towne – a poet. Anthony died suddenly at age 51. What is interesting is that Stringfellow makes the claim that despite the suddenness, neither he nor Towne were caught by surprise by his death.

He meant by this that he and Towne had discussed death – not in a morbid way – and had come to see death as an essential part of life. By this he meant that they had come to see death as an essential part of life. Death was not something to be feared, but neither was it to be glorified. It simply was. All living things die.

Understanding that we are to die helps us to live – knowing that death awaits us all helps us not to take ourselves too seriously, to understand our insignificance in the wider scheme of things, to value this life and to make the most of it.

Today as we receive the ashes we are reminded that we are dust and will return to dust. The intention of the ritual is not to make us feel worthless, but to understand our complete dependence on God, to understand that without God we are nothing.

Throughout Lent, our goal is to develop our relationship with God, to more properly understand our place in the scheme of things and to humbly ask God transform us so that we might more truly become the people God calls us to be.