Posts Tagged ‘awe’

Breaking boundaries, flouting convention

June 11, 2016

Pentecost 4 – 2016

Luke 7:36-50

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who breaks down boundaries, flouts convention and welcomes sinners. Amen.

 Imagine this – you have gathered for worship at your local, traditional Anglican Church. The priest (Jane) has just announced the first hymn when the usually sedate, dignified curate (Maurice) bursts in, robe awry, and runs down the aisle shouting: “ I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I now understand! God loves me, God REALLY loves me! I’m not perfect, but God loves ALL of me! Can you believe it? It’s so amazing, so wonderful. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. God loves me, God really, really loves me. Here take this,” he says as he thrusts bags of money into the priest’s hands. “I can’t think of any way to say ‘thank you’ except by giving all my savings to God. Take it, take it all, use it for whatever you think. God loves me, God really loves me.”

During this rant, you (and possibly everyone else) were almost certainly squirming in your pew. Perhaps it was your voice that the priest overheard saying: “Why doesn’t she just stop him. Can’t she see he is overwrought? Surely she knows that his behaviour is totally inappropriate. Anglicans in this place are more constrained, more reserved. No one will come to church if this gets out.”

Imagine your surprise when the priest not only lets the curate finish his speech, but takes him by the hand and says: “I am so happy for you. Come and take your place beside me. Help me to share this good news with everyone.” Your surprise turns to indignation when the priest singles you out: “(Your name here) do you begrudge Maurice this joy? Have you never experienced the marvel of God’s love? Do you not know what it is to be truly loved and forgiven or do you think that you are so special that God can’t help but love you? Maurice knows that he has nothing to deserve God’s love, that is why he is so overwhelmed. I wish that you could share his humility, because only then could you share his joy.”

It is hard to imagine the scene in this morning’s gospel. We have become so inured to the woman’s extravagant, beautiful act of love that we often fail to see how scandalous and socially inappropriate it was and is. Simon, the Pharisee was simply voicing what any respectable person would have thought in that situation. The woman has broken a number of social and religious laws, and in Simon’s home. No wonder he is offended. In first century no woman would have been invited out for a meal, no man would have touched a woman, let alone allowed her to touch him in such an intimate way. Any such contact would make the man ritually unclean and unfit to fulfill his religious duties. What is more, it appears by the fact that the woman’s hair is loose, that she is not even a respectable woman, but a woman of the streets.

By allowing himself to be touched by such a woman, Jesus also is crossing all kinds of boundaries and is himself guilty of causing offense. Even by today’s less rigid standards, if an unknown woman gate-crashed a party and started wiping the feet of the guest of honour, it would send shock waves through the room. The guests would not know where to look, they would squirm in discomfort and wish her anywhere but there. Most of them would quietly hope that Jesus would say something to make her stop.

Instead of chastising the woman, Jesus tells a parable that indirectly condemns his critics. It is their self-righteousness, their rule-bound lives, he implies that, rather than freeing them to experience God’s loving forgiveness, actually imprison them in their own smugness. Those who criticise Jesus and the woman are so busy “being good” and conforming to the expectations of those around them that they have failed to see that their very self-assurance is a vanity that contradicts their sense of goodness.

The woman on the other hand, knows her short-comings all too well. She knows that according to the standards of the church and the standards of society she falls far short of expectations, but somehow, (and we are not told how), she has grasped what the others in the room have yet to grasp – that God loves her utterly and unconditionally. She is aware that she has nothing to deserve God’s outpouring of love and yet she knows that it is hers. The experience is simply overwhelming – a mixture of joy and awe. She feels that she has to respond and so she does, in the only way available to her. She takes the most expensive possession that she has and seeks Jesus out. Weeping with gratitude and joy she collapses at Jesus’ feet, bathing them with her tears, wiping them with her hair and finally anointing them with ointment. She doesn’t care what other people think. Her only concern is to let Jesus know how overawed she is by his gift of love and acceptance.

Those of us who are cradle Anglicans may not have had the sort of experience that brought this woman to her knees. Not all of us have had the sort of conversion experience that led Paul to understand that despite his past actions, God could not only forgive and love him, but use him to build the church. Our experiences may be less intense – the quiet, deep gratitude that a loved one has pulled through surgery, the elation at the safe birth of a child, the thankfulness that God has brought us through a time of trial or tragedy – but they are no less real.

We may not have experienced for ourselves the intensity of this woman’s love, but hopefully in our journey of faith we have learned that what sets us apart is not that we are better than anyone else, that we are more law-abiding, or that we do more good works. What sets us apart is that, despite our imperfections and despite the fact that we have done nothing to deserve it God loves us.

God loves us unreservedly and unconditionally and will continue to love us for all eternity and even if we were to give everything that we have, we would never be able to repay God for the tremendous, awesome, underserved gift of that love.

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Maintaining a sense of awe

January 5, 2013
Maintaining a sense of awe and wonder

Maintaining a sense of awe and wonder

Epiphany 2013

Matthew 2:1-12

 

Marian Free

 

Holy God, open our hearts to the wonder that surrounds us – especially that which reveals your presence. Amen.

I don’t know what your experience was, but I clearly remember the day on which I became aware that science had destroyed my innocence – the day I knew things which changed forever the way in which I looked at the world.  I guess that I was about nine years old. I was lying on my back under a frangipani tree. As I looked up at the clouds I saw – not fluffy, cotton wool creations on which angels might sit, but instead floating masses of water which would not hold even the smallest of celestial beings. In that moment I knew, all the magic of clouds had gone. My new-found knowledge meant that my view of the world had changed forever. It was no longer possible to see the world as I had once seen it.

While I obviously remember that moment with absolute clarity, I can assure you that it did not destroy my joy and wonder in creation, nor did it produce an antipathy for science which, as often as not, points me in the direction of awe and wonder not only in God’s creation, but in those good things made by our hands.

That said, I do feel a sense of regret that the church, which at first protected its members from the Enlightenment, eventually allowed itself to be caught up in a need to be both rational and scientific. Over the years much astronomical work has gone into trying to find an explanation for the star that the Magi followed. Could it the triple conjunction of planets, a combination of just two planets, a Nova or even a comet? Unlike other miracles, astronomical events can be traced with some accuracy. If we knew the exact date of Jesus’ birth or could read back into Matthew’s story the precise time at which the Magi saw the star, we could scientifically work out whether there was an actual astronomical event which caught the attention of our Magi.

Determining the nature of the “star”, finding scientific evidence for the biblical miracles, is to miss the point of the story-telling. It is clear if we read all four gospels, that none of the writers were intent on writing an historically accurate account of Jesus’ birth. If they were all four accounts would be exactly the same. By the time the evangelists were writing, there were no eyewitnesses to Jesus’ life and besides, they had a more important goal in mind. As they saw it, their task was to bring people to faith in Jesus not to write history and certainly not to write history as you and I think of history.

In the setting of the first Christian communities, the stories of Jesus played a number of roles, one of which was that of forming the identity of the emerging community, of reinforcing the idea of who they were. The stories that were repeated were the stories of faith. They recalled Jesus as people had known him, they developed an understanding of Jesus’ place in history and provided tales that were vital for the ongoing life of the church. The writers and their communities were not cross-checking references to make sure they got it right. What they were doing was trying to make sense of, not to record history. (It is only in relatively recent times that there has been a concern with the historicity and reliability of biblical stories. Prior generations accepted them as sacred stories of faith and were not overly concerned with whether or not they corresponded with actual fact.[1])

Which brings us back to the Magi, those mysterious figures who come from who knows where to offer gifts to a child whom they believe – despite his unpromising beginnings – will one day become a king. Their place in Matthew’s gospel and in the future direction of the church is vital for they represent the Gentiles – all the nations other than that of Israel, who by virtue of this birth, will through faith rather than physical descent be able to gain a place in the people of God.

In this way scripture was fulfilled. Throughout the OT there are signs that the God of the Jews could and did use others to fulfill God’s purpose, just as there are indications and even promises that no one would be excluded from God’s embrace. Abraham was promised that he would be the forebear of many nations, significant characters of the OT testament did not belong to the nation of Israel – Ruth was a Moabite, Rahab a Canaanite and Cyrus a Persian. Jonah saved the Gentile people of Nineveh. A queen from Sheba came to visit Solomon and so on. Add to this the references in the Psalms and elsewhere that the Gentiles will stream to Jerusalem. In other words it is easy to defend the notion that the OT expectation was that Judaism would not remain an exclusive group.

The reality of the early Christian community was that the Gentiles were flocking to Jesus while the Jewish people were, by and large holding back. All the gospel writers struggle to come to terms with this situation. Matthew solves the puzzle at the start by having rank outsiders become the first to identify and to worship Jesus.

It would be wonderful if both the shepherds and the magi were historically true, but what is more important is what the stories have to tell us. The shepherds place Jesus among the poor and the outcast. The account of the Magis expands Jesus’ sphere of influence beyond the confines of Israel. In that sense both accounts are true because they both reveal an essential truth about Jesus.

In our search for truth let us not abandon our sense of wonder and expectation. There are times when we may suspend out intellect and allow ourselves to be drawn into a story which in the final analysis is beyond our grasp and certainly beyond our comprehension.

[1] Johnston, Engaging the Word, 7.

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