Posts Tagged ‘letting go’

Getting out of God’s way – John 14:6

May 6, 2023

Easter 5 – 2023
John 14:1-14
Marian Free

In the name of God who is as close as breath and yet always just beyond our reach. Amen.

I often say that Jesus did us a great disservice by not writing down his teachings or his philosophy of religion. Jesus left it open for his followers to develop their own theology and, in the case of the gospel writers, to draw up their own individual version of events. It is possible that Christianity would be more united had Jesus been more definitive or produced something in writing . There would be less confusion as to what he said and did and no need for the early church to make sense of Jesus’ death and resurrection, because Jesus would have spelled out the meaning of everything before he died. In other words, to avoid confusion, misunderstanding and division, Jesus could have made it clear that he was promoting a new religion. He could have produced a fully formed theology of the Christian faith, written a creed and provided outlines of liturgical and ecclesiastical practice so that no one need be in any doubt as to what the church should believe and what it should do.

Having said that, I suspect that Jesus’ creation of uncertainty was actually a deliberate attempt to free humanity from a need to lock God (and faith) into a rigid set of principles and behaviours. Jesus does not set anything in stone, because Jesus wants us to rely less on ourselves and more on God; to grasp that our salvation is dependent not on anything that we can do, but on what God in Jesus has done for us; and to understand that God cannot be bought, bargained with or reduced to human categories.

He wants those who follow him to avoid the trap that the Pharisees seem to have fallen into – the trap of desiring certainty, of believing that they know and understand God, and of thinking that they can stay on the right side of God if only they follow this rule or another. Jesus hopes that those who come after him will follow his example of openness to God and his willingness to trust God blindly rather than to think that we can bind God to our will.

I find the Jesus of John’s gospel is perhaps the most frustrating, obscure, and contradictory. To give just one example, in verse 13:33 Jesus says: “Where I am going, you cannot come”, then only 8 verses later he says: “You know the way to the place where I am going” and “where I am you may be also” (14:4, 3). Both cannot be true, so we are forced to live with the tension of not knowing for sure.

Jesus seems to be deliberately keeping his disciples (and therefore us) deliberately on edge, ensuring that we don’t try to lock God into one way of being or another. He knows our desire for security, but he want us to understand that our relationship with God is less a matter of holding on, but rather a matter of letting go, less a matter of living within rigid and narrow guidelines and more a matter of grasping the expansiveness and openness of God.

As Meister Eckart says: “God asks only that you get out of God’s way and let God be God in you.” God is already there, in the depths of our being. That should be the only certainty, the only security that we need. Our task, over our lifetimes, is not to seek assurance but to accept that we already have it; not to seek God in words and deeds, but to discover that God is already present in our lives and to know that we can abandon ourselves to God’s presence. The task of spirituality is not to pray more, read more, do more, just the opposite, it is to let go, to trust, and to follow Jesus to the cross so that all that is false and illusory in our lives can be stripped away and we are left with only what is pure and true – the Spirit within.

Letting go, is counter-cultural and counter-intuitive which is why we resist it and why Jesus insists on it and why Jesus models it in his own life.

So, by a roundabout route, we come at last to today’s gospel, the beginning of Jesus’ farewell speech to his disciples. The scene takes place after Jesus’ final dinner with his friends. The disciples are confused and afraid. Their world has been turned upside down. If they had thought that things would remain the same, they were sadly mistaken. In just a short period of time, Jesus has broken social convention and washed their feet. He has revealed that he is about to be handed over by one of his own, and Judas has gone out into the night to do who knows what. If that were not enough to unsettle and confuse his friends, Jesus has told them that he is going away and that where is he going they cannot come.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” It is clear that Jesus knows that his disciples need some reassurance, but it is also obvious that Jesus is not going to accede to their need for direction by providing them with a guidebook or roadmap. As close as Jesus will get to giving them directions is to say: “I am the way, the truth and the life.” “I am the way, the truth and the life”, tells us nothing about what to do, what to believe and how to behave.

We will only find the way if we allow ourselves to be led by Jesus (not by our conceptions of Jesus). We will only know the truth if we let go of all those things we hold to be true and seek only God and God’s truth. We will only truly know life if we allow ourselves to abandon this life and to accept the life that Jesus offers.

In faith, we can only let go– not hold on, only empty ourselves – not try to fill ourselves, only get out of God’s way and let God be God in us.

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Order and chaos

August 29, 2020

Pentecost 13 – 2020

Matthew 16:16-21

Marian Free

In the name of God who shatters our certainly and our preconceptions and who continually reforms us in God’s image. Amen.

In his daily reflections over the past three weeks, Richard Rohr has been examining the theme of Order, Disorder and Reorder.[1] He writes: ‘It seems quite clear that we grow by passing beyond some perfect Order, through an often painful and seemingly unnecessary Disorder, to an enlightened Reorder or resurrection. This is the universal pattern that connects and solidifies our relationships with everything around us.’ Rohr argues that this pattern is found in all the world religions. In Christianity this pattern is expressed/lived out in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus or in Paul’s confidence that “in Christ everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (2 Cor 5:17) or that we must be “transformed by the renewal of our minds” (Rom 12:2). 

It is impossible to live in a world in which everything is constantly changing, in which our footing never seems secure. We all need some stability and consistency if we are to develop trust and confidence, if we are to build a sense of self and to grow. Thankfully a great many of us have that experience as children and adolescents. The problem is that a sense of order and security can be so comfortable that some of us never want to leave it. A few people stay in a state of perpetual childhood, terrified of facing the real world. Others put up strong defences to protect them from hurtful or damaging experiences. Still others rigidly hold on to “truths” learned when they were young even though all the evidence proves them to be lies. By surrounding themselves with a safety net, many people avoid pain, but they also deny themselves the opportunity to grow and to experience the richness that life has to offer – love/loss, achievement/failure, order/chaos and so on.

In a spiritual sense as well, holding on to the past can be both stultifying and life-denying. A reliance on order and security can lead to an over-dependence on self or on worldly things such as wealth, recognition or power. It is only when that sense is unsettled or disturbed that that dependence can be broken, and (ideally) a person is forced to turn once again to God and to those things that really matter – the things of the kingdom. In the same way a failure to more from the simplistic teachings of our Sunday School days leaves us ill-equipped to face the complexities of the world. (How many people have lost their faith because the image of God brought over from their childhood failed them as adults?)

I have found these past three weeks of reflections particularly useful for two reasons. One is that they have nicely complemented my reflections on the gospel readings for those weeks and the second is that of course, the pattern of Order, Disorder and Reorder perfectly fits the current situation in which certainty and security have been stripped from all of us. Thanks to COVID few of us have control over our lives in the way that we used to and many of us are wondering what the future will look like. None of us know how, let alone when, the virus will leave us. In this situation – brought upon us by external circumstances that affect the whole world – not many have the capacity or the tools to predict, let alone determine our futures.

It is perhaps not surprising that the movement from order through disorder to reordering is reflected in our gospel readings for this same period. After all the theme of life, death and resurrection lies at the heart of the gospels. 

On August 16 we heard once again the account of the Canaanite woman who changed Jesus’ mind. She challenged Jesus’ long-held convictions of right and wrong, about who belongs and who does not. Jesus’ inherited beliefs were challenged, shattered and replaced. Through this process Jesus’ understanding that his ministry was only for the house of Israel was torn apart and replaced by a view that the gospel was for all people. 

Last week Peter, in response to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” responds that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the Living God”. However, today’s gospel makes it quite clear that despite his declaration, he has no idea what this really means. His understanding of “the Christ” has been determined by the teachings of the synagogue and the community in which he lived. Even though he was the first disciple to be called and has been a part of Jesus’ inner-circle, Peter’s views and expectations have not been shattered to the point at which he is able to relinquish the past and envision a new sort of future. As we can see, the idea that the Christ might suffer is completely abhorrent to Peter – so much so that he tries to dissuade Jesus from this trajectory.  (In fact, Peter’s determination that things stay the way that they have always been is tenacious. His thinking will not change until he is completely unmade by his denial of Jesus.)

Life does not always run smooth. Its ups and downs will, if we let them, build us into people of compassion, wisdom and resilience. 

Jesus does not promise us that discipleship will spare us from trouble, pain or sorrow. Just the opposite. Jesus asks his disciples to give up everything that until now has given their lives meaning – family, occupation, reputation and he tells them that they must take up their cross if they are to follow him. In return he offers them only the hope of a kingdom that they cannot see and which they do not as yet understand. 

As disciples of Christ, we are challenged to place our trust not in the comfort, security and safety of the values of this world, but to open ourselves to the abundant love of God and to trust that in following Jesus we will be enriched and rewarded in ways far beyond our ability to comprehend.

At this time, we can (and often will) look back to the ways things have been, but the lesson of the gospels is that our lives will be far more productive if we can let go of the past and make our first tentative steps into whatever it is that the future will be. 

[1] You can sign up for the daily meditations on the CAC website.

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Life and death are one

April 20, 2019

Good Friday – 2019

On Death
Kahlil Gibran
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

Life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

The poet recognises, as we sometimes do not, that death is a part of life. Death is a daily reality, albeit one that more often than not we tend to ignore. Because we ignore our ultimate death, we fail to recognise that death is all around us – in the negativity that eats away at us and through us eats away at the world, in the caution that limits our growth and restricts our experience, in the self-centredness that holds us apart from others and makes us seek what is not our own, in the griefs that bind us to the past and in the gradual deterioration of our physical bodies.

If we fail to understand that life and death are one, we will resist the transformative deaths that are part of our every day existence  – the little deaths that lead to growth – the death of self that leads to an openness to others and to the world, the sloughing off of the baggage (resentment, sorrow, anger) that we have carried for too long, the death of longing that leads to dissatisfaction, the death of ambition that causes us to compare ourselves with those around us and the signs of ageing that urge us to slow down and to become more contemplative, more aware of the world around us. All these little deaths prepare us for that final death which frees us from all the restraints of our human condition so that we might live forever.

When we fail to recognise that life and death are one, we separate death from life and we give to death the power to terrify, enthral and enslave us.

Life and death are one.
Jesus defied death’s power and challenged death’s powerful grip over life. Jesus’ victory over death is our victory over death. When death no longer has a hold on us we can accept, even welcome, our daily deaths knowing that they set us free to really live and that they prepare us for a life that endures forever.

Life giving God, when life seems bleak and empty
Let us trust that you will make all things right.

Liberating God, breathe your love and goodness into a world of death and destruction, terror and desperation, aggression and greed. Give hope to the hopeless, courage to the fearful and comfort to those who despair. Help us to build a world in which peace and justice reign, in which all have enough to eat, access to adequate health care and education and freedom to achieve their true potential.

Living God, pour out your blessing on your church throughout the world, especially in such places where her existence is threatened and in which the safety of worshipers cannot be assured.

God of love, be with all those who are marginalized by virtue of their race, their gender or their sexuality, all those who are made or feel that they do not belong because they do not fit what we define as the norm.

God who shared our human existence, stand with the sick and the suffering that they may find assurance in your presence and trust you with their future.

Jesus who conquered the power of death, help us to find life in death and death in life and through all our little deaths to be transformed into your image and worthy of your eternal kingdom.

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Sometimes the hating has to stop

September 13, 2014

Pentecost 14. 2014
Matthew 18:21-35
 Marian Free

In the name of God who desires that we let go of bitterness and hatred so that our own lives might be enlarged and enriched. Amen.

Sometimes the hating just has to stop.

A couple of weeks ago I discovered Dendy Direct – a way to see movies on my iPad. Since the closure of Video stores in most of Brisbane, I have been trying to find a way (a legal way) to watch videos on line. This may just be the answer. The first movie I downloaded was Railway Man, a movie I had wanted to see, but missed when it was at the theatre. If you haven’t seen it, it is the most extraordinary story of a British signals officer who survived the experience of the Burma railway in WWII.

As you might imagine, it is not a movie for the faint-hearted.

In summary, when the British surrender, the signals officers destroy all their equipment so that it cannot be used by the Japanese. Despite the urgency, Eric Lomax manages to distribute enough radio components among his fellow officers to enable them to build a radio wherever they end up. The soldiers are crowded on to trains and taken to a labour camp in Thailand to work on the Burma railway. Because of their technical skills, Eric and others are put to work as engineers – repairing trucks and machinery. The reconstructed radio enables them to listen to news of the outside world and in particular the progress of the war. When the Japanese find the radio, Eric and his friends are accused of transmitting information to the British. As a result, Eric is severely beaten and then cruelly tortured by the Japanese who refuse to believe that the radio was only able to receive information not to transmit any.

Eric’s experience of the camp leaves deep psychological scars. After the war he finds no peace of mid, but becomes obsessed with revenge. Some thirty to forty years after the war he discovers that one of his tormentors is not only still alive but is now leading tours of the very camp in which he presided over so much agony and pain. The man, Takashi Nagase, has somehow managed to avoid being put on trial for war crimes and seems to be getting on with his life in a way that Eric and his friends cannot. His victims are furious.

Egged on by one of his fellow prisoners, Eric finally makes the trip to Thailand. His intention is to confront and to then to kill his tormentor. What follows is extraordinary. At first it appears as if he will carry out his intent. He enters the camp ( ow a museum) after closing time, corners Takashi and takes him into the interrogation room. Now it is Eric, not Takashi who is the interrogator. Eric demands answers. He wants the former soldier take responsibility for his actions, to admit to being complicity in the murder of the thousands of prisoners who lost their lives on the railway. Despite his fury, Eric finds that he cannot kill Takashi. Instead he takes him outside locks him in one of tiny bamboo cages once used to incarcerate Allied soldiers.

Eric leaves Takashi in the cage while he retraces his steps into the torture room. Memories of the horrific torture come flooding back but even so, he cannot kill his former torturer. Returning outside he sits on the beside Takashi’s cage and listens to his story.

That is not the end. Some time later Eric returns to Thailand with his wife Patti. There they meet Takashi once again. This time he does what he could not do before – he admits his culpability. He bows deeply and, without making excuses, he apologizes saying: “I don’t want to live that day anymore.” To which Lomax responds: “Neither do I”. Lomax gives Takashi which reads. “The war has been over for many years. I have suffered much but I know that you have suffered too and you have been most courageous and in working for reconciliation. While I cannot forget what happened in Kamanchinabri, I assure you of my total forgiveness. Sometime” , he writes, “the hating has to stop.”

In that moment, both men are set free from their past. In fact they become great friends.

Sometime the hating has to stop.

Surely that is what forgiveness is all about – breaking the cycle of recrimination and hate, letting go of the past so that it does not contaminate the present and understanding that exacting revenge does not make the problem go away. Hatred and bitterness do not ease the pain – they only serve to perpetuate the trauma. An obsession with vengeance is not a solution, it eats away at the victim, but it does not even touch the perpetrator. In the end, the only way to be released from the suffering of the past is to let it go.

Jesus understood this, which is why he tells Peter to forgive seventy times. To forgive is not to condone or to forget abuse, violence, torture or other atrocities – but rather to deprive them of their power to destroy, to reduce their ability to infect the present and above all to allow the victims and sometimes also the perpetrators to get on with their lives .

Sometime the hating has to stop – the self-hatred and the hatred of others – because only when we stop hating will we be at peace with ourselves and with the world. And only when the hating stops will there be peace in the world.
……………………
The movie Railway Man is based on the real story of Eric Lomax which is recorded in a book of the same title. There is also a documentary about Lomax and Takashi.

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Utter dependence on God

April 6, 2013

Easter 2. 2013

John 20:19-31

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to die in order that we might truly live. Amen.

When we start out in life we are completely dependent on others for every aspect of our lives and, if we are lucky, we learn to trust  that our needs will be met. As we grow, we need to be taught about the world, learn what we can and can’t do, how to live in relationship with those around us and how to keep ourselves safe from danger. We learn to trust in and depend on the judgement of those older and wiser than ourselves. At times in our lives, especially in our teens, we test what we’ve been taught and we explore the boundaries that have been set to see how real they are and to determine whether danger really lurks on the other side. As a result of this process we form our own ideas and come to our own decisions as to how to live our lives. Over time, some of the rules and boundaries that were indispensable will be left behind. We no longer need to hold a parent’s hand to cross the road, we can go swimming without an adult watching and so on. As we grow, new skills and boundaries are learned. We learn how to drive, so we learn the road rules. We are old enough to drink and others hope that we will use that privilege responsibly.

At different times of our lives we unlearn some things – how to be dependent in particular – and we learn new things – how to be married, how to parent, how to live with illness or pain and how to age. Some of the changes we face will be embraced and the challenges taken on board, others may be resisted or resented. There will be individuals who adopt a positive attitude to change no matter what. When confronted with difficulties, they will grow and become better for it. However, others will balk at any difference or difficulty in their lives. Their growth will be stunted and they may become bitter and angry, unable to move on.

Our religious journeys are similar to our life’s journey. If we are open to the presence of God, we will grow through dependence to the rule bound childhood of faith into a liberating life-giving adulthood. The difference between the two is that ultimately our faith journey takes us through the independence of adulthood into a second infancy – that of complete dependence on and trust in God.

Just as in life, so in faith, some people have the confidence and courage to grow, to out-grow unnecessary regulations and to leave behind painful and negative pasts. However, unfortunately for some, the lessons taught and the emotional threats used to enforce the rules make it difficult, if not impossible, for them to make their own minds up about right and wrong, healthy growth and unhealthy development. For such people, the consequences of questioning the teaching and boundaries of their childhood faith can be constant anxiety and self-doubt, fear of expulsion from the group and the terror of hellfire. There are others who do not grow in faith because they have come to like the certainty of their set beliefs and behaviours. They are comfortable in their beliefs and do not want them challenged or disturbed. For this group, any admission of doubt would be tantamount to a confession that they had lost their faith. They would feel rudderless and lost and so hold tight to what they have, unable to move forward.

Those unable or unwilling to grow become stuck in the rule-bound faith of their childhood and often justify their position by being critical and judgemental towards those who have taken a different road. They are governed by their own need for certainty and assurance and threatened by any suggestion that there is another way to be. Rules help them to feel safe. They cannot imagine a situation in which they might let go of the rules and allow God to direct their lives. Ultimately they are terrified of ceding control and opening themselves to the wisdom and love of God.

On the other hand, those who have the courage to step out in faith and to follow the path to the end are able to unlearn everything that they had learned. They have no fear of hell or judgement because they have learnt to trust in God’s unconditional love and forgiveness. They do not need to compare themselves with others because knowing themselves loved they can extend that love to those around them.

Paradoxically, our journey of faith is not a journey into certainty, but into uncertainty for in the final analysis God represents all that is unknown. Growing in faith is learning that there is only one rule and that it is not a rule but an attitude – loving and allowing ourselves to be loved. It is regaining the sense of wonder and even bewilderment about the nature of God and the nature of the universe. It is dying to our need for the rational and intelligible and rising with Christ to the impossible and unbelievable.

This is Thomas’ journey. He begins by wanting proof. What he has been told by his friends will not suffice, he wants to see and to touch. He cannot suspend his desire for the rational and the reasonable. What he knows, what he has seen, is that Jesus has died. Without clear proof to the contrary he will not be able to change this world view. When he does see Jesus, all that changes, his demand for certainty is exposed as and he is forced to concede that some things are beyond rational explanation. Thomas, having come face-to-face with the risen Christ, goes further than any other disciple by falling to his knees and identifying Jesus as both Lord and God. In that act, he lets go of certainty and rationality and gives himself over completely to God.

Certainty, compliance to a particular set of regulations, is a form of heresy. It claims that we know all there is to be known about God, it suggests that we have all the answers that we will ever need and ultimately implies that we have no need for God at all. Letting go can be a terrifying experience because we can never be sure what is on the other side. However, unless we have the courage to let go, to stop being in control, we will never know what it is to die with Christ and never experience the power of the resurrection in our lives.

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