Posts Tagged ‘engagement’

In the world but not of the world

May 11, 2024

Easter 7 – 2024

John 17:6-9

Marian Free

In the name of God, who in Jesus fully immersed godself in the messiness of human existence. Amen.

Thomas Merton was a monk, a contemplative, a poet, a writer and an activist. He was the most prolific spiritual writer of the twentieth century and had a profound influence on inter-faith dialogue.  

Merton had an unsettled childhood and young adulthood. His mother had died when he was six, shortly after the family had moved from France to the United States. His widowed father sent the young Merton to boarding school in France. Two years later he took Merton out of that school and moved the family to England. After finishing school Merton began studying at Cambridge but was very unhappy there.  At 20 he enrolled att Columbia University where he completed his studies. Merton considered himself to be an atheist but a meeting with Mahanambrata Brahmachari, a Hindu monk convinced him to explore his own spiritual roots.  Merton took this advice and was later baptised into the Catholic church.  At the age of 27 he joined a community of Trappist monks at Gethsemani in Louisville, Kentucky. Over the course of his short life (he died aged 53), he was a monk, a priest, a writer and a social activist. 

Merton sought the quiet of a contemplative life – indeed, his ideal was to spend time in complete isolation – however an experience in March, 1958 led him to understand that engagement with the world was as essential as withdrawal from the world. He records the experience in Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander:

“In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness… This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud… I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.”

This experience convinced Merton that following Jesus meant not only contemplation but also action and it taught him that his existence was integrally connected to the existence of the whole world and that he had to take a stand on the issues of the day – civil rights, the Vietnam war, nuclear proliferation – it was the sixties after all. Merton saw race and peace as the critical issues and he spoke and wrote about both. He was considered to be a radical and his unusual and untimely death was the cause of much speculation.[1]

Merton’s insight that he had to be both in the world and not of the world is central to Jesus’ prayer in today’s gospel. He saw, as Jesus saw, that it is impossible to remain aloof and disinterested, that it is impossible to see the suffering of the world and to be indifferent, and that prayer and action are not separate, but are two sides of the same coin.

Being in the world and not of the world is costly. Seeing and calling out injustice does not make for an easy existence amongst those who are content with the status quo. Jesus was crucified, and his prayer suggests that those who follow him will be hated, but this does not prevent him from asking God to send them into the world just as he was sent into the world.

The gospels are clear that Jesus’ life was not one of pious withdrawal, but of active involvement in the world. He immersed himself in human existence. Jesus was not afraid of being polluted by the unclean, the unworthy, the poor and the marginalised. He was not interested in respectability nor was he afraid of offending the establishment. Jesus refused to conform to the norms of his society. He confronted injustice and challenged religious structures that made impossible demands and that made decisions about whom God did and didn’t love.

We are called to follow Jesus’ example, but making sense of how we are called to engage with the issues of our day is not always straightforward.  It is not always easy to know when to speak out and when to keep silent, when to jump in and when to stand apart. Jesus had a sense of clarity about right and wrong that came from his relationship with God and his life of prayer. Our task is to learn what it means to be in the world but not of the world, to find the right balance for us, to resist being pulled too far in one direction or another, to allow a life of prayer to inform a life of action, to assure us that resisting conformity is the way of Christ.

It is not easy to distinguish when we are being led by good intentions or being led by the Spirit, to know when we are chasing our own ideals or being informed by the gospel, to understand when we are seeking our own glory and not the glory of God. 

Merton recognised these difficulties in a letter he wrote to a young activist who sought his advice. He wrote: “The great thing after all is to live, not to pour out your life in the service of a myth: and we turn the best things into myths. If you can get free from the domination of causes and just serve the truth, you will be able to do more and will be less crushed by the inevitable disappointments. Because I see nothing whatever in sight but much disappointment, frustration, and confusion. 

The real hope, then, is not something we think we can do, but in God who is making something good out of it in some way we cannot see. If we can do (what’s right), we will be helping in this process. But we will not necessarily know all about it beforehand….”[2]

Jesus prays that God will send us into the world as he, Jesus, was sent into the world. May we be the answer to that prayer, willing to take the risk of being God’s agents, being change-makers in whatever circumstances we find ourselves, driven by the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.


[1] Some believed that he was assassinated because of his opposition to the Vietnam War.

[2] https://thewire.in/society/thomas-mertons-letter-to-a-young-activist-speaks-to-our-times-as-well

Taking it seriously

November 11, 2017

Pentecost 23 – 2017

Matthew 25:1-13

Marian Free

In the name of God who has given us everything and to whom we owe everything in return. Amen.

My parents tell a story of my godmother Catherine. Neither Catherine nor her mother had any interest in cooking. Meals at their home generally consisted of meat and salad. On one occasion when my parents were staying with Catherine, my mother was making the dinner. When Catherine offered to help, mum asked her to stir the white sauce. Catherine couldn’t concentrate on the task. As a result the sauce was lumpy and inedible. When my mother asked why she hadn’t kept stirring, Catherine replied: “I didn’t think continuously meant that I had to stir it all the time.” Catherine had no commitment to cooking, so her approach was careless and lackadaisical with the result that the dinner was ruined.

I’m sure that you can think of many situations in which things don’t go as well as they could due to someone’s lack of commitment, their failure to think things through or their casual approach to the task or the event.

This morning’s parable is all about being fully engaged in the task at hand. It is, I think, one of the most confronting of all the parables. The shut door does not sit well with our image of Jesus as loving, forgiving and compassionate and I suspect that we all feel a chill at the possibility of Jesus slamming a door in our face.

It is essential that remember that this is a story not a real event. We don’t have to puzzle over details such as whether the markets would be open in the middle of the night or where exactly the girls were. We just have to take the story at face value. There are ten girls waiting for a bridegroom. Of the ten only five have thought to bring extra oil so that they can be sure to ready to greet the groom when he arrives.

We know very little of the marriage customs of Jesus’ time. Based on the practices of surrounding cultures we can assume that it was the practice of the groom to go to the bride’s home to negotiate the bride-price with the father. As this might involve a certain amount of haggling, the timing of the groom’s return home could not be determined with accuracy. Add to this the fact that the notion of time was quite fluid – “this evening” could mean anytime after sundown. The girls would have had no idea when to expect the groom. The groom was expected after dark as the girls had their lamps with them and their lamps were lit.

Five of the young women had extra oil and five did not. Even so, the reaction of the bridegroom appears to be harsh in the extreme. Five of the girls were foolish and ill prepared, but they were not bad. They had not broken the law or committed even a minor misdemeanour. I think that this is why the parable offends our sense of justice – the punishment does not seem to fit the crime. Surely mere foolishness is not enough to lead to such final and definitive exclusion?

In fact, foolishness is not the problem, neither, despite Matthew’s addition to the parable, is sleep. It is true that the five foolish virgins were not bad but they were thoughtless, careless and unfocussed. Theirs was an important responsibility, but they had not taken it seriously enough. They had one job and one job only – to greet the bridegroom and to lead him to his house, but when he arrived they were nowhere to be seen. Five of the girls had prepared for the eventuality that the groom would be delayed, but five had not. The first five had thought about the role and what it required and the others had not. The five foolish girls did not really have their heart in the task, they had taken their responsibility lightly and in so doing they have in effect shown their true colours and locked themselves out. Their actions (or rather their lack of action) demonstrated that they were only half-hearted about their involvement in the wedding, they were happy to be involved, but not willing to do what it took to take the role seriously.

A number of the parables point in this direction – that is they make it clear that it is not so much that God judges us, but that by our own inaction, our own carelessness or indifference we make it clear that we do not really want to belong. Take for example the parable of the man without the wedding garment: he was happy to come to the wedding but couldn’t be bothered dressing appropriately. The parable of the house on the rock and the house on the sand suggests that it is our decisions and our actions that determine how the future will play out. Whether we are invited in or locked out depends, at least in part, on how much we want to be included, on whether or not we are truly conscious of what a great privilege it is to have been chosen in the first instance.

Being good is not enough on its own. The parable shows that it is possible to be good but not attentive, to be good but not thoughtful, to be good but in some sense to be absent. Today’s reading from Joshua gives us some sense of what is required of us – to revere God and to serve God in sincerity and faithfulness – that is, to give ourselves completely and unreservedly, holding nothing back; not half-heartedly and superficially, distracted by worldly affairs.

Joshua’s challenge to the people of Israel rings out through every generation: “Chose this day whom you will serve” and having chosen: “Revere the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness – fully committed, totally focussed and completely engaged in our relationship with God – then and only then will we truly know God and know that God truly knows us.

 

 

 

Dignity and worth

March 18, 2017

Chester Cathedral

Jesus and the woman at the well.

Lent 3 – 2017

John 4

Marian Free

 

In the name of God in whose eyes we have infinite worth, no matter what our life-style, our choices or our achievements. Amen.

During the week I read the extraordinary story of Bhenwari Devi an Indian woman from a low-caste potter Kumhar community. In 1992, at dusk, while Bhenwari and her husband were working in the fields, five men from the higher Gujjri caste (the most affluent and influential in her village) attacked them both. Two of the men attacked her husband and restrained him, the other three took turns in raping Bhenwari. As the news over the past year has informed us such attacks are not unusual. In India women and girls of a lower caste and especially untouchable women and girls are often raped and sometimes killed by those who come from a higher caste background, sometimes in retaliation for a perceived slight, and sometimes just because they are there. The shame and stigma associated with sexual crimes make it difficult for women such as Bhenwari to speak about their experience or to seek justice. Their gender and their lowly position in society only serve to exacerbate the situation.

When Bhenwari reported the rape, she was accused of lying. Her assailants told police that there had been a dispute but that the pair were not attacked. The police did not take the assault seriously, did not give her a thorough examination until the next day and ignored her cuts and bruises. Because she reported the crime, Bhenwari was seen to have brought shame on her community. She and her husband were shunned by their neighbours, who would not sell them milk or buy their pots. Their own families did not invite them to family weddings. For twenty-one years Bhenwari took her battle to the courts and while justice may have eluded her, her case has seen the government introduce legislation to prevent further such cases.

I’ll leave you to read the rest of the story for yourself[1].

It can be difficult for someone to hold their ground in the face of so much opposition, especially when they feel disadvantaged by gender, race, creed or their position in society. Even in relatively affluent and educated countries such as our own, there are those whose voices are more respected and those whose opinions hold little to no weight – the poor, those with a disability, victims of domestic violence to mention just a few. It takes courage and confidence to refuse to let such factors be a reason to stay silent.

In today’s gospel we meet a woman who would not be silenced. Like many of the New Testament characters, the “woman at the well” has no name. Never the less we know a great deal about her. This woman is triply disadvantaged. She is a member of the despised Samaritans, she is female and, probably because of her sexual activity, she is ostracised by her community – (which is why she is at the well in the middle of the day). Coming to the well at this time allows her to escape the censure and derision that would be levelled at her if she came earlier when most of the villagers would be gathering water for their families.

On this particular day though she cannot avoid Jesus. Jesus ignores all the social norms that would prevent him from speaking to the woman and he asks her for a drink. The woman is shocked, but not overwhelmed. She challenges Jesus: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” As the conversation continues the woman refuses to let her cultural disadvantages hold her back. She questions Jesus, confronts him on questions of faith (where one should worship) and finally is so convinced that Jesus is the Christ that she convinces her fellow villagers – those who despise and condemn her – not only to believe in Jesus but to persuade him to delay his journey for two more days.

Bhenwari and the woman at the well are examples of people who, despite their disadvantages, their place in society and the ostracism by their communities have been able to maintain a sense of self-worth and a sense of dignity. Jesus doesn’t see race, gender, religion or morality. He sees a worthy debating partner. Despite their circumstances and their standing within their own communities, the woman at the well and Bhenwari have a strong sense of their own worth and refuse to be cowed and intimidated, by those who would shame, condemn and exclude them.

We, of all people, should know our own worth. After all, didn’t Jesus die for us proving once for all God’s boundless, unconditional love and that we are worthy of that love?

Lent is love. The unbelieving, timid Nicodemus is given a place in God’s story and the despised and ostracised Samaritan woman is given a voice. The stories of their encounters with Jesus remind us that there is no standard that we have to reach to take our own place in the story of God’s interaction with God’s people. It remains for us to believe in God’s love for ourselves, which in turn enables us to believe in ourselves and to understand that if God overlooks our shortcomings, then we also ought to overlook our shortcomings. Above all, it means that God’s opinion of us matters more than the opinion of those around us and that we should not allow our lives or our faith to be determined or limited by self-doubt , by our position in the world or by the attitudes of others.

 

 

 

 

 

[1] http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-39265653

Our prayer should inform our lives, our lives should inform our prayer.

February 7, 2015

Epiphany 5 – 2015
Mark 1:29-39
Marian Free

In the name of God who draws us into relationship with Godself, but does not call us to withdraw from the world. Amen.

The 10th of December was the anniversary of the death of the great twentieth century contemplative Thomas Merton. Thomas’s story is well-rehearsed elsewhere (Try http://www.thefamouspeople.com.) In short, he was born in France, the son of artist parents. Sadly, his mother died when he was only six. Then began a life during which he lived in many different places with his grandparents in the United States and then in France with his father. He attended boarding school in both France and England. He was only sixteen when his father died. Already quite independent as a result of being left to his own devices, Merton took himself off to Europe on a walking holiday when he finished school. When in Rome, despite the fact that he considered himself to be an agnostic, Merton felt himself drawn to visit churches. At the same time he bought and read the Vulgate – the Latin New Testament. During this time in Rome, he had a mystical experience of his dead Father. This experience exposed the emptiness that he felt within and he says that for the first time in his life he felt really drawn to prayer.

It was while he was in Rome that Merton visited a Trappist monastery. Here he felt both anxiety and also a sense of belonging. It occurred to him that he would like to become a Trappist monk. Returning to the UK he entered Clare College where, by all accounts he lived a dissipated life, to the point that his guardian encouraged him to return to the United States and to his grandparents there. At Columbia University Merton enrolled in a B.A. in English Literature. This period of his life proved to be formative and set the direction for the rest of his life. He began to write, he became politicized and he discovered Roman Catholicism. An introduction to a Hindu monk whose God-centred life impressed him was also to have a lasting effect on his life providing him with a deep desire to understand other faith traditions. To Merton’s surprise, the monk, instead of encouraging Merton to become a Hindu, encouraged him to explore his own faith traditions.

In 1938 at the age of 23 Merton felt a call to the priesthood. As a consequence he was accepte into the Catholic Church and began exploring his vocation. His first point of call was the Franciscan order, who to his great disappointment, did not accept him into the novitiate. His fall back position was to take teaching job at the St Bonaventure University (a Catholic University that provided an opportunity for him to share in the life of the priests who taught there). The position also meant that he was able to go on retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemani. Here among the Cistercians he at last found a home and was able to pursue his vocation. He continued his writing and his interest in Eastern religions.

Even though the Cistercians are a silent order, Merton sought even more space to be apart from the world. He asked for, and was eventually granted, permission to live by himself for extended periods of time. Despite his need to be apart, Merton never abandoned his interest and political action in the real world and through his writing he continued to critique the injustices and the issues of his time – racism, nuclear disarmament, poverty – and to challenge his readers to work for change.

Thomas Merton came to mind when I was pondering the second vignette in today’s gospel. We are told that after Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law, “the whole city was gathered around the door”. Jesus cured the sick and cast out demons. The next morning Jesus got up before sunrise
to find some time to be apart to reflect, to pray, to gather his strength before he returns to the demands of the people. The peace he seeks is short-lived. Simon and the other disciples pursue him, hunt for him and he continues with his work, allowing the demands of others to to absorb his time and attention.

Jesus knew that his strength and focus could only be maintained if his relationship with God. He knew that he could only respond to the needs of others if his own reserves were full. He understood too the need to be fully engaged with the world. It must have been tempting to take himself away from the demands of the crowd, to avoid their neediness and constant presence. How easy it would have been to make himself into a “holy person”, separate and alone in constant communication with God, to be available only to a few.

That is not the way of God. The whole point of the incarnation was to demonstrate God’s engagement with the world. In Jesus, God steps in “boots and all” into the messiness of human existence avoiding nothing and no one.

There are times when we might wish to withdraw, to avoid the crowds, to evade our responsibilities. There are times when it all seems too hard, when the problems of our life, or the state of the world threatens to overwhelm us. At such times we might take ourself apart. Jesus’ example reminds us that our times apart are only times to recover ourselves so that we have the strength once more to enter the fray. They are times when we draw on God’s strength so that it is in that strength not our own that we carry on. Both are important – withdrawal and engagement.

Our real life should inform our prayer life and our prayer life should inform our real life. Together they make us whole, together they will contribute to the wholeness of the world.