Posts Tagged ‘faith’

Faith and doubt – two sides of one coin

April 26, 2014

Easter 2

John 20:19-31

Marian Free

In the name of God who, far from demanding blind faith, challenges us to think for ourselves. Amen.

I can clearly remember July 20, 1969 – the day Neil Armstrong stepped on to the moon. The space landing was considered such a significant historical event that we were given a half day off school to go home and watch it on TV. As my family did not have a television, I went home with a friend and saw it as it happened. America really did manage to land someone on the moon. Amazingly, though the event was broadcast live and watched by people all over the world, there were still those who didn’t believe that it was real. At one extreme, the grandmother of one of my friends who steadfastly clung to her naive belief that the moon was made of green cheese and at the other end were those who held all kinds of conspiracy theories – including one that the whole thing was filmed somewhere in the Australian outback.

New discoveries or new ideas are not always readily accepted. Most of us take time to absorb new information or to adjust to new ideas. All of us, before we accept something new or different, have to make decisions about who and what we trust. Confronted by new information, we have to weigh up the evidence before us and come to our own conclusion before we change our mind-set. This is true not just for advances in science, but also for revisions in the way in which historical data is interpreted over time. So for example, one of the questions which requires a response at the moment is whether climate change is real or whether its proponents are hysterical nature lovers who want to impose their ideals (and their limitations) on us. Another challenge is to come to a conclusion about the way in which historians are revising the story of the Gallipoli landing. Could it really be true that the calamitous campaign was as much the responsibility of the Australians as it was of the British or are the historians just trying to create controversy and draw attention to themselves? Faced with new data, we also have to decide whether our failure to accept it is based on a rational examination of the new facts, or whether we are held back by sentiment, conservatism or a dislike of change.

This need to question, to test ideas, is no less true in regard to issues of faith. It is reasonably easy to demonstrate that Jesus was an historic person who lived and was crucified in the Palestine of the first century and it does not require a great intellectual leap to acknowledge that Jesus’ teaching contains wisdom and guidance for life that crosses the barrier between secular and divine.

The resurrection however is a different matter that creates a number of difficulties. There is no rational, reasonable explanation for the resurrection. There were no witnesses to the actual event and there are at least four differing accounts of the risen Christ – more if John 21 is considered original to the gospel. There are consistent elements – the women at the tomb and Jesus’ appearing in locked rooms – but they are reported slightly differently by each evangelist. Both John and Mark record a meeting with Mary Magdalene and Mark and Luke suggest that the risen Jesus met travelers on the road. Some stories are unique to the individual gospels. Jesus’ appearance to Thomas is recorded only in John and Luke alone suggests that the risen Jesus is able to eat. If we had only the original Markan gospel we would have only the account of the empty tomb and the fear of the disciples to convince us that Jesus had risen.

And yet we believe. We believe despite the lack of eyewitnesses; the apparent absurdity of the claims and the paucity of the evidence. We believe despite the centuries that separate us from the events themselves. Does that mean that we suspend our reason, that we allow ourselves to pretend that belief or faith requires that we do not need to question or to think, that we can just ignore the difficulties presented by a dead man returning to life?

I don’t think so. We don’t believe without a basis for our belief. Like Thomas we ask questions and we test what we believe and like Thomas, we believe because, we have had an experience of the risen Christ and because we know Jesus’ living presence in our lives.

Over the centuries, for a number of reasons, Thomas has had a lot bad press:.he questioned the experience of the other disciples, Jesus’ asked him to have faith and his lack of confidence in the other disciples led to the expression ‘doubting Thomas’. This has caused many to come to the conclusion that faith requires unquestioning belief in what others tell us. The reality is that for many, doubt and questioning are essential ingredients of faith. Jesus himself was not free from doubt – before he died he wondered if God could do things differently and on the cross he doubted that God was with him.

Doubt need not be an indication that faith is wavering. It can be a sign of faith that is growing into maturity. Questioning, searching often indicates a movement from a faith that is dependent on the word of others to a faith that is based on personal research and experience – a faith that is truly one’s own. Questioning is not only healthy, but as the example of Thomas indicates, it can lead to a deeper understanding – a richer experience than is possible if faith is based on second-hand knowledge or experience.

It is important to note that Jesus does not censure Thomas for his failure to accept the word of the other disciples, nor does he deny Thomas the opportunity to have the same experience that they had. Instead Jesus allows Thomas not only to see, but also to touch and feel – to discover conclusively for himself that what the others said was indeed true. The result is powerful. Thomas falls to his knees declaring: My Lord and my God.”

Thomas should be remembered, not for his lack of faith but for his recognition of Jesus – as Lord, but more importantly as God. In this Thomas is a ground-breaker, a leader – anything but a doubter or a failure.

We do not believe because someone else has told us to. We believe because like Thomas we know Jesus Christ as our Saviour, as our Lord and our God.

 

Christ is risen.

He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Conviction or blind belief?

April 19, 2014

Easter 2014
Marian Free

In the name of God who raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Amen.

Social media has made a vast difference to the world. It is now possible to broadcast news across the globe in seconds, to announce engagements and births, to share poignant stories and funny or moving video clips, to distribute music and to maintain friendships over time and space. A quick word or photo now and then can keep a person much more connected with their friends than the annual Christmas letter. On a political level, social media can undermine authoritarian governments, gather crowds to protest movements and disseminate film clips of police or army brutality all within a matter of minutes. On an intellectual level, social media can provide people with access to stimulating articles and ideas to which they might not otherwise have access. Of course there is also a lot of rubbish and quite a deal or misleading and even mischievous information, but there is no denying that we are all much closer to each other and to what is happening in the world than we ever were before.

In the last few days for example, I have been able to read a number of interesting articles relating to child slavery and chocolate, Good Friday and Easter. I found two of these sufficiently interesting that I uploaded them on to Twitter. One by John Dickson presented: “Top Ten Tips for Atheists this Easter” and the other by Elizabeth Farrell was entitled: “A Meditation on the Cross.

(http://www.abc.net.au/news/thedrum/; http://www.smh.com.au/comment/meditation-on-the-cross-20140416-zqvdm.html)

Both articles challenge us to consider what it is that we believe, why we believe and how we might try to express that belief.

Dickson writes his article “in the interests of robust debate”. He challenges eight arguments put forward by atheists to discredit Christianity. I want to share with you just two. Atheists criticise Christians for believing things without having any evidence to support that belief. That, he points out, is not the way we use the word “faith”. Faith for a Christian is not blind belief in something for which there is not rational explanation. Rather the word “faith’ is used by Christians in the sense of “have trust in”. Christians do not blindly trust God, but have faith on the basis of a variety philosophical, historical and experiential reasons. We have faith in God, because it seems reasonable to believe that there is something behind the creation of the universe, because for millennia others have trusted this same God and because we experience God in some way in our lives. It is only on the basis of reasoned conviction that we place our trust, have faith in, God, faith in anything less substantial would be easily shaken.

A second related argument is to understand the basis on which people are persuaded. Dickson reminds his readers that Aristotle argued that few people – and that includes Christians – are convinced by purely objective evidence. With regard to a variety of different information, people are persuaded by a combination of intellectual, psychological and social factors. Even if those three factors line up, people are only really convinced if they feel that the person sharing the information with them can really be trusted. (A doctor might present information based on the latest medical research, but it might take a lot more than that to convince a patient to undergo a new and radical procedure.) New information often needs to have a personal relevance or impact before it is accepted. If a person is sure he or she is going to die, they might try to trust the doctor for example. This is as true of objective scientific discoveries as it is with regard to matters of belief. People of faith are no more or less likely to be open to persuasion that any other member of the community.

Farrell’s meditation is a reflection on why, when most of her friends are “lackadaisical or downright opposed to Christianity”, she is “impelled by a craving that the mundane world does not fill – a craving for deep time, old nature and transcendent spirit stuff.” She feels a need for a spiritual dimension not only for her own life, but for that of the world. Farrell confesses that she is “addicted to where the quest for goodness and yearnings of the spirit is accepted currency.” For her, paradox is the core mystic message – the idea that we must lose ourselves in order to win eternal life.” “Paradox”, she says, “and the parable needed to express it, lives at the heart of Christian traditions: darkness in light, poverty in riches, pain in beauty, death in renewal. Paradox is the mystery and the enchantment.”

Every Easter you and I gather to celebrate an event that had no witnesses, that cannot be supported by scientific evidence and that defies all rational explanation. We acknowledge the paradox that victory over death is won by death, and we rejoice that contrary to human logic – the Jesus who suffered a shameful, ignominious and violent death is in fact God incarnate, that what appeared to be a disaster turned our to be a triumph.

It is difficult to explain and to defend the resurrection because it is beyond explanation. Yet, for centuries people like you and I have come to the conclusion that the resurrection is a paradox that can be trusted, that it is a contradiction that somehow makes sense and that it is real because it has the power to change and renew lives. It is possible that we believe without objective evidence, but it is not true that we believe without reason. Our hearts tell us that Christ is present with us, our heads tells us that 2,147 billion people must have some basis for their belief in Jesus’ resurrection and our history books remind us that people have risked their lives and poured themselves out for others, all because they believed that Christ had been raised from the dead.

It doesn’t matter whether we use the more personal language of Farrell to explain ourselves, or whether we apply academic arguments in our discussions with atheists as does Dickson. What does matter is that when millions are elsewhere, we are here because our conviction that Christ is risen cannot be shaken by doubters or critics. We know what we know and that is all there is to it.

Christ is risen.
He is risen indeed!

Who is in and who is out?

January 4, 2014

Epiphany 2014

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose love knows no bounds and creates no boundaries for those who would love God in return. Amen.

I imagine that many of you have seen the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It is a wonderful, light-hearted look at a family of Greek migrants in the United States. Like many migrants, they have formed their own sub-community and have done what they can to maintain their culture in a new and strange land. One of the ways in which this extended family can ensure that their traditions are maintained is to insist that their offspring marry someone of Greek descent who will be like them. The movie follows a young woman, her desire to build her own life and to marry the American man with whom she has fallen in love. We watch in agony as her Father parades a number of less-than-attractive but suitable Greek men before he is persuaded to give in and allow her to marry the man of her choice. Along the way we observe the difficulties of two different cultures coming to grips with each other and the migrants letting go of their rigid insistence on remaining apart.

 Of course, the movie is an exaggeration but I grew up in a Brisbane in which recent Mediterranean migrants mostly lived in West End with others who shared their language and ate their food. The supermarket in that suburb was stocked with huge tins of olive oil and the fruit shops introduced us to exotic vegetables like zucchini (which as a child I could have well done without)!

It is human nature to seek out those who support and encourage us, to find those with whom we have something in common, to mix with those who share our background, language and history. Migrants in particular often form communities in the new countries in which they find themselves. Living close to those who have shared their past and their journey to another world provides a sense of continuity, makes the present less strange and makes it easier to practice one’s faith, to cook the foods one is used to and to speak a familiar language and be understood. 

From what we can glean from the New Testament Judaism, in the first century at least, had very clear boundaries and cultural identifiers. According to Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus claimed to have come for “the lost sheep of Israel”, and all the Gospels make a clear distinction between those who are Jews and those who are not. Paul’s letters to the Romans and Galatians indicate just how strong Jewish ethnic boundaries were and how effective they had been in keeping others out. These included adherence to the law – including dietary regulations and purity laws – the circumcision of every male and belief in the one God.

These borders appear to have been fiercely guarded. Outsiders who admired and practiced the faith usually only obtained the status of “God-fearers” and were never fully included as members of “God’s chosen people”.

It is difficult to know if this was always the case, but almost certainly the experience of the exile (500 years before Jesus), would have served to define and harden national identity. It would make sense that those living in exile in Babylon would have placed an emphasis on those characteristics that distinguished them from the culture around them. (We see in the Book of Daniel a description of how some people responded to living in a culture vastly different from their own. In the face of great opposition, and at the risk of his life, Daniel holds fast to his identity and refuses to compromise his beliefs and the practices associated with his faith.)

When the exiles return home they have a clearer vision of who they are, but it is not long before they are again under foreign rule – this time in their own land. By the time that Jesus is born, Palestine has been ruled by foreign powers for over three hundred years. It would be reasonable to suppose that this too created a need for them to preserve their unique identity, to stress their distinctiveness and so claim their place in the world. Those who had left Palestine and settled in other parts of the Empire may (like today’s migrants) have drawn in on themselves and stressed the importance of the things that made them different from the world around them.

For Christians reading the Old Testament, the exclusiveness of first century Judaism is harder to understand. Books like the book of Ruth and Jonah tell, in different ways, the story of God’s concern for and desire to include every nation in the covenant that God made with Abraham. Ruth is a Moabite (non-Jewish) woman who becomes the forebear of David and therefore of the expected Saviour. Jonah’s task is to warn the Ninevites (non-Jews) of God’s wrath and to urge them to repent. According to the Book of Kings, the Queen of Sheba travels to meet King Solomon, to pay homage and to listen to his wisdom and according to the prophet Isaiah, Cyrus, the Persian King is God’s anointed or Messiah. In more than one Psalm, the author sees a time when the whole world will stream to Jerusalem. As we read the Old Testament, it seems clear that God’s intention was always to include the Gentiles.

 By the first century, possibly because the Jewish people were feeling so embattled, they had not only drawn clear lines around themselves but, from what we can tell, they had come to the conclusion that a Jewish Saviour would only save the Jews – or those who were prepared to become Jews. This created a dilemma for the early believers. Many Gentiles had come to faith in Jesus just as they had and what is more, they too had received the gift of the Holy Spirit as a result of that faith. Could they be excluded from membership in this new community simply because they were not Jews by birth? The answer was “no”. Both Acts and the letter to the Galatians tell us that the issue was resolved at a council held in Jerusalem. Rather than be compelled to become Jews, Gentile converts were required only to observe a minimum number of practices in order to belong.

A different dilemma faced the Gospel writers who, some twenty years later, had to confront the reality that Jesus, the Jewish Saviour, had made a greater impact on the Gentiles than he had on the Jews. In order to resolve this puzzle, it was important that they discover and record the evidence that Jesus’ ministry clearly demonstrated an intention to include the Gentiles. In the Gospels there are accounts of Jesus commending Gentiles who exhibit more faith than the Jews, of a Canaanite woman who argues that her daughter deserves to be healed, Jesus’ command to make disciples of all nations and his promise that the disciples will receive the Holy Spirit and be his witnesses to the ends of the earth.

It is in this context that we are to understand Matthew’s account of the coming of the Magi. The author of Matthew, whom we believe was writing for a primarily Jewish community, needed to make it clear that right from the very beginning of the story, Jesus was recognised and worshipped by Gentiles. Furthermore, these magicians – astrologers or scholars – were no ordinary people, but, like the Queen of Sheba who visited Solomon, they were people of significance and wealth who come to pay homage to a Jewish Saviour. In this way the author of Matthew establishes that, from his infancy, Jesus was identified as the Saviour not only of the Jews but of the whole world. The implication being that if Jesus is the Saviour of the world, then those who are not Jews by birth or practice can and should be included in the worshipping community. Anyone who has faith in Jesus can belong.

It is always a mistake to try to second-guess God, to believe that we can determine who is in and who is out, who to include and who to exclude. If we are rigid and exclusive, if we insist that only those who behave in a certain way can belong, we are in danger of drawing our boundaries too close and of failing to see what God is doing in the world.

Who do we exclude and why? If anyone who has faith can belong, who are we to decide who is in and who is out?

 

 

Safe in the hands of God

October 19, 2013

Pentecost 22

Luke 18:1-14

Marian Free

In the name of God who raises up the humble and puts down the mighty and who never abandons us to face our trials alone. Amen.

When the weather is good, Michael and I like to eat outside. Not only is it a pleasant environment, it also gives us a chance to observe the natural world. Among other creatures that inhabit our garden are some rather large, but harmless ants. Needless to say they are very much in evidence should anything fall from our table. On one particular day a rather large crumb was picked up by two of these ants. We watched as they moved it somewhat awkwardly across the cement amazed that they should think that the trouble was worth it. Because the ground slopes, the concrete has a large crack in it – too wide for the ants to cross. The two of them spent ages trying to manoeuvre the crumb down one side of the crack and up the other. If one ant dropped an end, the other clung tightly until the first had regained its hold – a process repeated over and over again. They did not seem to be discouraged no matter how often they had to repeat the process. It was hard to believe that one small crumb warranted such persistence – especially when there were others, more manageable, to be had.

Today’s gospel consists of two parables which, at first glance, appear to have nothing to do with each other. A closer look however reveals that they are both about faith – a relationship of trust in God that persists in difficult circumstances and that is built on openness to God in prayer.

To understand the parables, we have to understand the context in which they are being told. The Pharisees have asked Jesus when the Kingdom of God will come. Jesus’ response was to tell them that the coming of the Kingdom would not be observable by outward signs. Indeed, he says, the Kingdom is already among them. It is just that they have failed to recognise it. Jesus concedes the world is not yet perfect. It is full of uncertainty and suffering which will only come to an end when God’s rule is firmly established. Jesus warns his followers that they are to expect difficult times – and the letter to Timothy indicates that the believers do experience persecution and suffering. The disciples and the church live in this in-between time. They are aware of God’s rule in their own lives, but conscious of how far from the ideal of the Kingdom the world still is. They accept that in this still unperfected time that their life will not necessary be one of peace and ease.

The parables are told to encourage the disciples to remain faithful even in difficult times and to trust God to vindicate them against those who oppress them. Jesus is responding to the unasked question: How are the disciples to live, how are they to pray in this time after Jesus coming and before the realisation of God’s rule over all the world?

Even though it seems to be taking a long time for things to change, the disciples are to persist in prayer, confident that God will respond. They are not to abandon their faith at the first sign of difficulty, but to preserve against all odds. God is not like the judge who has to be worn down before he will act, and then only acts in his own self-interest. God’s loving goodness has the disciples’ interests at heart, and though the Kingdom seems long in coming, they are not to be discouraged even when times are tough. Jesus urges them to continue in prayer and to remain faithful, confident that even if God does not act as quickly as they would like, God will respond.

Having told this parable, Jesus tells another – about two people at prayer. The Pharisee, confident in his own goodness is keen, not so much to pray, but to tell God just how good he is in comparison to everyone else. Certainly, he is living in a way that is consistent with the law and he is observing the spiritual disciplines expected of him. However, he cannot see that even though he fasts twice a week, gives ten percent of his income away and does not earn his living by collecting taxes for the Romans, his very arrogance, self-centredness and lack of compassion place him as far from God as every other sinner. His belief in his own perfection has blinded him to his own faults and shortcomings. Worse than that perhaps, he has made himself judge, thus standing in God’s stead and doing God’s work for him! He might think that he believes in God, but in fact by his attitude he demonstrates that he doesn’t need God. He can be judge and jury all on his own.

The tax-collector on the other hand, is only too aware that by circumstance or design, he falls far short of the ideal of perfection. In fact, he is so aware of his failings, that he cannot hold his head up high, nor can he wait for God to pass judgement on himself but beats his breast as a form of self-punishment. Unlike the Pharisee, the tax-collector knows only too well how much he depends on God for anything like a good outcome at the judgement. He hopes against hope that God will overlook his present situation – his role as tax-collector – and that God will restore him to a relationship with God. The Pharisee does not need God to tell him how wonderful he is. The tax-collector, knows how much he needs God if he is ever to be declared wonderful.

This is the difference that Jesus wants us to observe, and why he commends the tax-collector who, to his contemporaries is a traitor and one of the worst kinds of sinners. What matters, Jesus implies, is our relationship with and dependence on God, our recognition that we fall far short of godliness and our belief that, despite our faults, God will vindicate us if only we trust in God and not ourselves. The widow’s persistence and faith in God teaches us to persevere and not to be discouraged. The tax-collector’s humility in prayer teaches us to trust in the mercy of God even though we are far from perfected.

Today, we continue to live with the tension that faced the first century church. Like them we might wonder why God who sent Jesus to save the world, continues to stand back, to hold his hand when a baby dies every three seconds, children starve in Syria because adults cannot agree on how to bring about peace, millions of people languish in refugee camps, Christians are persecuted and killed and people’s homes are destroyed by fires so ferocious that they are almost unimaginable. We do not and will not have the answer to this question, but Jesus tells us that we must not be discouraged, we must not give up. We must continue to pray, confident that God is not only listening, but that God has everything in hand and in God’s own time God will respond.

So we must continue to pray, and when we do, we must be honest with ourselves and with God. We must recognise that if the world is not perfect, it is in part because we are not perfect. When we ask God to change the world we must first ask God to change us.

We are to have faith in this in-between time when Jesus has come and the world is still not perfected. We are to keep the faith even in the most difficult and trying circumstances. We are to understand that faith does not consist of doing the right thing, but first and foremost consists of a relationship with God which is honest and transparent, which is open and responsive to the presence of God and willing to be transformed by that presence.

Persistence and humility are two characteristics, two attitudes that should inform and support us in a world that is far from saved. Persistence in prayer prevents despair when our circumstances seem impossible. Humility in prayer acknowledges our solidarity with (rather than our superiority over) the world around us. Both evidence a trust in God which places our future and that of the world firmly where they belong – safe in the hands of God.

Serving God is its own reward

October 5, 2013

Pentecost 20

Luke 17:5-10

Marian Free

In the name of God in whose service we give our all – expecting no reward, but the privilege of serving our God and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.

In March this year a number of people received awards for bravery or courage. Trevor Burns was awarded the Star of Courage for saving a dive operator from a shark attack. Not only did he pull the shark off the woman, but, as other members of the group made their way to the safety of the boat, Trevor stayed in the bloodied water to dive down to the sinking woman and pull her to the surface. Raymond Bruckner and Ernst Gomsi took a canoe into raging flood water to rescue two men who had been thrown out of their aluminum boat by the swift flowing water. In the process Gomsi himself was tossed into the water, but was able to be retrieved. The actions of these two men saved the lives of the others. Brett Morrissey smashed a door and then a window to enter a burning house to rescue a child. When he learned that a woman remained inside, he returned to bring her out as well. All four put their own lives at risk to save the life of a stranger. (For these and other stories go to: http://www.govhouse.qld.gov.au)

If asked, these and the many others who have received such awards would have said that they didn’t think about what they were doing or the danger to themselves, but that they were only doing what anyone else would have done in the same situation. Often such people are genuinely surprised to be receiving any recognition because they are convinced that they have done nothing out of the ordinary! Many, many people do extraordinary things in the course of their work or their everyday lives and think nothing of it. Aid workers and peacekeepers often put their own lives (and certainly their comfort) at risk serving people in refugee camps, war-torn or disaster ravaged countries and paramedics and emergency service workers are confronted with horrifying situations on a regular basis – often putting their own lives at risk for the sake of others.

Other people are heroic in ways that will never be publicly recognised. Think of the hundreds of parents who give all they have to care for a child with a disability, the children who ungrudgingly care for elderly parents, those who uncomplainingly live with a disability and those who cheerfully carry out mundane or dull tasks which are essential for the well-being of the wider community, but which are taken for granted and only noticed by their absence. All of these people would say that they are only doing what anyone else would do in their situation, or that they are only doing what is required of them. None of them would think that they were doing anything out of the ordinary.

Of course, the opposite is true. Some people take foolish risks in the hope that they will stand out from the crowd. There are some that find their responsibilities burdensome and unwelcome and there are many that grumble at the routine of their daily work or the lack of recognition they receive for what they do.

In today’s gospel, Jesus addresses the question of whether, in our faith lives we do things for recognition or whether faith itself is reward enough. In the first century somewhere between thirty to forty percent of the population of the Roman Empire were slaves. Their conditions varied depending on whether or not they were working in the mines or running someone’s estate, or whether their owner was kind or vicious. However, even those in the best positions were never anything more than a slave. It would have been inconceivable for anyone to imagine the scenario Jesus puts before his audience: an owner suggesting a slave sit at the table after a hard day’s work. Such an offer would diminishes the master’s status and respect. It would be a reversal of roles that would  be inconceivable. The expectation of both master and slave would be that the slave would have to complete his or her tasks – including ensuring their owner had eaten – before considering their own needs.

Throughout history people have followed Jesus, not for any external reward or recognition, but simply for the privilege of being counted among the faithful. Saints have not spent lives in prayer and reflection so that they might be singled out from the crowd. They have done so because their lives would have held no meaning if they did not. Martyrs have not gone to their deaths thinking: this will make me more important than other Christians. They have simply have accepted death as one consequence of a life of faith. Missionaries and others have not carried out their work in the belief that one day they will be set apart as those who did more for the Gospel. They have responded to the call of God and shared with others a faith they believe to be life-changing. People like Mother Teresa have not given up lives of comfort to live among the poor because they thought that one day they would be elevated as super Christians. All these people have lived lives of faith for the rewards of knowing and being known by God and by Christ our Saviour.

We too, in good times and in bad, confidently and timidly, with greater or lesser prayerfulness or holiness, commit ourselves to faith in Jesus Christ, not because we expect God to single us out for praise, not because we are competing with each other for God’s attention, not because we want to stand out from the crowd, but because we have heard the call of Christ and have done no less than what we were compelled to do. Life in the service of our Redeemer is a reward in itself.

A scandalous God

September 14, 2013

Pentecost 17   2013

Luke 15:11-32

Marian Free 

In the name of God who cares not what we have done, only that we  trust God enough to return home. Amen.

If you were to read the Gospel of Mark (or even Matthew or John), you would look in vain for the best-loved and best known stories and parables. If we did not have the Gospel of Luke there would be no shepherds to accompany the Christmas story and no manger to adorn our Christmas cards, no accounts of Jesus’ childhood or reports of thankfulness (the ten lepers).  The parable of the Good Samaritan and the parable of the Prodigal Son would be nowhere to be found. Parables which are so well-known that they are part of our cultural heritage would have been lost.

Luke’s gospel has another claim on our attention. The author, for reasons that we can only guess, likes numbers (or repetition). Where other gospels only have one story, or one character, Luke often has two. For example, in Mark’s Gospel, there is only one Gerassene demoniac; in Luke there are two. There are two parables for guests and hosts (14:7-14) and two parables about counting the cost (14:28-33). Luke also presents pairs of stories: a man is healed and a woman is healed (13:10-17, 14:1-6). (In fact, stories of men are often paired with similar stories which feature women – for eg the annunciation to Zechariah (1:5-25) and the annunciation to Mary (1:26-38)).

This pattern of repeating a story or an event is evident in the stories of the lost. The parable of the lost sheep is joined by the parables of the lost coin and the lost son both of which are unique to Luke’s gospel. Perhaps the author of the Gospel is using repetition to ensure that his readers really understand the (shocking) point that Jesus is making – that God seeks out the lost and expects those who are found (or who have never strayed) to understand that such seeking is integral to the nature of God. Despite their popular names, these parables are of course about God – not the sheep or the coin or the son. For that reason, what is popularly known as the parable of the prodigal son is better called the parable of the Forgiving Father.

Just as the parable of the lost sheep is designed to shock and confound the listeners, so too, the parable about the son is intended to shake people out of their complacency and to force them to see God, and their faith, from a different perspective. According to these parables, God does not behave in the way that God is expected to behave – rewarding the good and excluding those who stray from the straight and narrow path. In fact, to the surprise of Jesus’ listeners (and perhaps to many of us today) God behaves in exactly the opposite way.

It is not the complacent, independent, law-observing believers who are God’s primary concern. In fact such people are often so self-assured that they seem to believe that they can achieve salvation by their own efforts and who do not recognise their faults and failures. (They don’t need God to assist them). God, as depicted by the parables of the lost, is more concerned with those “outside” those, who like the younger son, become aware of their own shortcomings and throw themselves on God’s mercy.

In order to understand the scandalous behaviour of the father (God) in the story, we have to understand the cultural context. In the first instance, we have to be aware that in the culture of the time, honour was a very important value. The son has shamed the father (and himself) in multiple ways: by asking for the inheritance, by spending it unwisely and by working with the pigs. At the same time, no self-respecting man would allow a son to insist that the estate be divided, nor would he welcome back the same son after he had wasted the money in loose living.

However, contrary to expectations, the son is not cast off. In fact, it seems that the father has been hoping for, watching for his return (15:19). Not only that, the father casts aside all pride and dignity and runs down the road to meet him! He is so glad to see the son that he doesn’t care what anyone thinks. For Jesus’ listeners this would be outrageous behaviour – the father doesn’t even know that the son is sorry – only that he is coming home and that is all that he needs to know.

As Jesus continually reminds us, God’s values, kingdom values are often the reverse of human/worldly values. (The poor will be blessed, those who weep will laugh. Do not only love those who can love you in return and so on.) What is more, the conventions and standards of the kingdom do not conform to the conventions and practices of the world. God can and does behave in ways that many of us would consider scandalous or unfair.

This parable has a coda. While the main action is between the father and the younger son, we are also given an insight into the reaction of the older brother – the one who remained behind. He represents all the good, law-abiding Jews, who are – not surprisingly – horrified by the father’s shocking behaviour and incensed that all their efforts to behave appropriately are not given more recognition, that they are not commended and rewarded for doing what is right.

It has been my experience that most people who hear or read this parable, identify with the older son.  They have a very human idea of fairness and justice and while they might think God is wonderful for welcoming the younger boy, they experience at the same time some disquiet that the older son receives no extra recompense for his conformity and his dutiful behaviour.

This is exactly the attitude that Jesus is trying to confront and to challenge. Jesus has identified a mind-set that is likely to cause some good, well-intentioned believers some difficulty. That is that they will find it difficult to accept that God behaves in ways that contradict their expectation, that the values of the kingdom are not the same as the values of the world and that the economy of exchange (if I do this, I receive that) does not count for anything in the world to come.

The problem is this: there is only one reward (eternal life) and only one way to receive it (faith). That means that at the end ALL those who have faith will receive the same reward – whether they come to faith only in old age after a life-time of crime or debauchery, or whether they have been faithful and well-behaved for an entire life-time. If faith is the sole criterion for inheritance of the kingdom of heaven, God will not be grading us according to any other criteria.

The sooner we grasp this concept the better. We would not want our resentment and bitterness to exclude us from a gift we have spent a lifetime longing for. We would not like to be like the older brother – so angry at God’s grace and generosity to others that despite God’s pleading we refuse to go in.