Posts Tagged ‘Reputation’

It has nothing to do with being respectable

December 17, 2022

Advent 4
Matthew 1:18-25
Marian Free

In the name of God who moves us to act in ways that are surprising and unconventional. Amen.

Jimmy Barnes, the hard-living, drug-abusing, wild-boy of Australian rock, was born James Dixon Swan. He was the child of an unhappy marriage, the son of an abusive alcoholic. When he was still very young, his mother abandoned her six children to escape the abuse. In his autobiography Working Class Boy Jimmy tells of his life as a motherless child growing up in Elizabeth, South Australia. His father was rarely home, leaving the children to fend for themselves. Over time, the house fell into disrepair and niceties – such as sheets on the beds – became a distant memory. Sometimes Jimmy’s father gave his older sister money. She used to buy a sack of potatoes which was often the only food in the house. Left to his own devices grew up wild and on the streets. He first got really drunk when he was only nine or ten.

In the meantime, Jimmy’s mother was struggling to make a living so that she could reconnect with her children. One day the Child Welfare Agency came to her to say that the children were going to be made wards of the state unless she could provide a stable home for them.

She was at a friend’s house, crying, when Reginald Victor Barnes walked in.

“What’s the trouble love?” he asked.
“I need to find a husband and I need to find a home for me six kids and I need to do it quickly or they’ll put them in a home,” she responded.
“Why did you leave them?”
“I had to run away, my husband was a bad drunk.”
“No worries love, I’ll marry ya.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Someone’s got to save those poor kids.”

So, Reg Barnes married Jimmy’s mother and took on – sight unseen – six troubled, delinquent kids.
He provided them with a home, stayed up all night tending to anxious, frightened and sick children and he didn’t walk away no matter how trying and exhausting their behaviour.

As Jimmy says: “Reginald Victor Barnes was to be an angel in my life.”

Reg, Jimmy believes, had planned to be a priest. In order to rescue children he did not know and to save a woman he had just met, Reg exchanged a peaceful, ordered life for one of heartache and chaos. In gratitude, Jimmy took his name – Jimmy Barnes.

This, I imagine is a rare story, especially for a man of Reg’s generation. No doubt Reg’s friends thought he was mad. Taking on another man’s children was one thing, taking on – and fully supporting – six children, damaged and abused by another, was something else altogether.

When we think of the story of the Incarnation, our first thought is of Mary and the risks that she took and the sacrifices she made when she said her courageous: “yes” to God. We are less likely to focus on Joseph – who throughout Jesus’ life is relegated to the background – a shadowy, but necessary figure who gives the earthly Jesus some legitimacy. Joseph is presented as the strong, silent type. He says nothing, but simply acts on messages that come to him in dreams. Joseph’s role in the story is to save Mary from shame and to ensure that Jesus can claim to be of the tribe of David (from whom the anointed one was to descend).

As was the case with Mary, though, Joseph’s obedience came at a cost. If he married Mary, he would bear for the rest of his life the reputation of someone who has been cuckolded. The scandal of Mary’s pregnancy would follow him wherever he went, and he would almost certainly be ridiculed or pitied for taking on another man’s child and having as his heir a child whom he did not father.

We are told tantalizing little about Joseph. He is a righteous man – a man anxious to do what is right before God. A righteous man would know that Mary’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy was contrary to the law and that as such he had no obligation to assist her. He would know too that any association with her would reflect on him, impact on his standing in the community and call into question his knowledge of and adherence to the law. He would have further cause for concern regarding Mary’s insistence that the child she was carrying came from God – an impossible and blasphemous claim which would have been an affront to his faith, and another reason for his family and neighbours to deride and revile him. For Joseph to marry Mary would have lasting effects. Her shame would become his shame. For the rest of his life, he would be subject to rumours and inuendo.

So, being a righteous man, knows that he must dissolve the engagement, but he proposes to do this quietly so as to shield Mary from public scrutiny. (He is presumably confident that her family will protect her and keep her forever from the public eye.)

God has other ideas.

It is perhaps an indication of Joseph’s righteousness (his closeness to God) that he understands that his dream is not a fantasy, but a message from God and that a message from God is not to be ignored, but to be acted on. He accepts, contrary to everything that he knows and believes that marrying Mary was part of God’s plan. Joseph was a law-abiding, righteous man but he was not so hide-bound, not so fixated on doing what was right that he put adherence to the law before the will of God.

Ultimately faith cannot be neatly bundled up as a set of rules and regulations. Faith, as Joseph demonstrates, is a relationship with the living God, who cannot and will not be confined by the limits of human imagination.

What we learn from Joseph is faith has nothing to do with rigid certainties, and everything to do with risk-taking. Righteousness has nothing to with having a good reputation and everything to do with a willingness to be a “fool for God. Pleasing God has nothing to do with observing certain codes of behaviour and everything to do with an openness to where God is leading us and a willingness to take our part in God’s plan.

Being in a relationship with the living God, means being willing to have all our certainties thrown into question, our values turned upside-down. and our lives turned inside out.

Difficult and incoherent – Jesus on discipleship

September 25, 2021

Pentecost 18 – 2021
Mark 9:38-50
Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God who in Jesus gives us the perfect model of discipleship. Amen.

Millstones around one’s neck, cutting off one’s hands and feet, pulling out one’s eyes, entering life deformed rather than facing the fires of Gehenna – verses 42-48 of Mark chapter 9 are utterly confronting, even incomprehensible. In fact, the entirety of today’s reading is perhaps the most difficult of all to understand let alone to preach on. To quote C. Clifton Black “It contains things that drive the conscientious (of preachers) into a slough of despondence: exorcisms (38), multiple disturbances in the Greek text, footnoted in responsible English translations (vv 42,44,45, 46, 49) and hard sayings of Jesus (39-41) that are logically incoherent (48-50) or which are manifestly outrageous (42-47) .”

Thankfully, the passage makes a lot more sense and is a lot more coherent it we take a step back and read it in context – both from a literary point of view and from an historical/cultural perspective. The verses that we have read this morning follow directly on from last Sunday’s gospel which began with Jesus’ second prediction of his passion and resurrection, was followed by the disciples’ bickering about who was the greatest and concluded with Jesus’ visual parable about the nature of discipleship – Jesus “sat down and called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” 36 Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, 37 “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” The second saying in this pair illustrates and expands the first in that a child is an example of the “last of all.” In an aural culture, the two sayings would be further linked by the similar sounding Greek words παιδον for child and παις for servant.

This connection between the two parts of Jesus’ illustration warns us against romanticising Jesus’ use of a child to make his point. “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” Jesus says. Time has softened the offense of Jesus’ statement here. In the twenty first century we have a very different attitude towards children from that of Jesus’ time and place. In the first century, children, along with slaves, were on the lowest rung of society: they had no legal status, no agency and certainly no self-determination. A person would gain no social or economic gain from welcoming a child – in fact their reputation would be compromised rather than enhanced if they were to pay much heed to someone who had nothing to offer them in terms of honour and status. A child was not unlike the “the last of all and the servant of all” for “the servant of all” was, as the expression implies, at the very bottom of the social ladder. A servant or διακονος was someone who served the food and the servant of all would only be able to eat after everyone else had eaten enough to satisfy them.

Jesus is doing here what he does so well. By insisting that his disciples welcome children as they would welcome him Jesus is completely reversing the cultural norms of his day. He is teaching his disciples that they are not to seek (or expect) honour and status but are to be “servants of all” and are to welcome into their midst the lowest of the low, the most marginalised and the most vulnerable – those who not only cannot confer status, but who will, by their very presence lessen the disciples’ own position in society.

Today’s complex and difficult reading is a continuation of this theme – that discipleship does not confer power or set apart, but rather calls one to sacrifice one’s position in the world by immersing oneself in the lives of those who are most despised and who have the least to offer.

This is spelt out in a number of ways. First of all Jesus makes it clear that discipleship is not a special club consisting of the “in-crowd”, nor does it confer special powers and privileges on only a few. If therefore, the disciples notice someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name, they are not to stop them. Being a disciple does not give a person special privileges. The disciples should rejoice that others, however unconnected to Jesus, are able to exercise the powers that Jesus has bestowed on them.

Secondly, Jesus points out that with discipleship comes great responsibility. Not only are disciples expected to welcome the most vulnerable and the least worthy, they are also to note that the consequences of causing harm to anyone of “these little ones” are catastrophic. It would be better, Jesus says, to have a millstone placed around their neck and be cast into the sea! This means, he continues, that rather than risking harm to others, those things that might cause such harm should be dealt with in the most radical way possible and disposed of.

Finally, Jesus seems to sum up what he has been saying since he announced his death and resurrection for the second time. That is that discipleship involves sacrifice not exaltation, service not power, collaboration, not competition. For this he uses the image of salt which in the Old Testament is associated with sacrifice. When we see the passage as a whole we can see that we have come full-circle. What began with Jesus’ second announcement of his passion was followed by the disciples’ argument about who was the greatest. Jesus then confronted the disciples’ status-seeking behaviour by insisting that they become last of all, that they welcome those who can confer no status. He challenges their desire to be distinctive, by welcoming anyone who casts out demons in his name, he insists, that they cause harm to no one and that they, like him are willing to give everything – even their lives – for the sake of others.

Discipleship is so much more than simply living good lives. It is about following Jesus’ example, no matter what that might cost us in terms of respect, reputation, ambition. It means putting ourselves last and others first, and giving up everything for the privilege of following Jesus – who gave up everything for us.

Bringing God down to our level (or not)

July 7, 2018

Pentecost 7 – 2018

Mark 6:1-13

Marian Free

 

In the name of God, who doesn’t value our worth by what we achieve, but by who we are. Amen.

In our culture one’s reputation is as much determined by the expectations that others have of our role as it is by what we do and don’t achieve. People are judged differently according to the organisation they represent, their occupation or the influence they are deemed to have. So for example, a Church official who behaves inappropriately is rightly condemned for not living up to expectations and his or her reputation (especially in Church circles) may be permanently damaged. Today’s sporting heroes are considered to be role models to the young and face intense criticism and even humiliation if they do something that is considered to be a bad example (take drugs, beat their wives, cheat).

When it comes to politicians and rock stars however, society demonstrates something of a double standard. Both John Kennedy and Martin Luther King were known womanizers, yet their reputations as great visionaries and reformers have remained in tact. In their case, the good that they did allowed the public to turn a blind eye to what would otherwise be considered immoral behaviour[1].

In the first century Mediterranean honour and shame were dominant cultural commodities that determined a person’s place in the social hierarchy.  A person’s honour was ascribed by their birth and was closely guarded and people (men) behaved in such a way as not to compromise their honour or to allow themselves to be shamed.  At the same time, honour was a limited commodity – there was only so much to go around. That meant that the only way for a person to increase their honour was to diminish another or to place them under obligation. In the New Testament, the religious authorities appear to be continually trying to undermine, expose or humiliate Jesus. In other words they were trying to maintain their honour and to ensure that his did not increase at their expense.

Jesus’ responses to their attacks demonstrate that he is well able to defend, if not increase his status (honour) within the society.

According to Mark’s telling, after the raising of Jairus’ daughter – an event that caused much amazement, Jesus returns to his hometown.  On the Sabbath he goes to the synagogue and begins to teach. Initially many of those who hear what he has to say are astounded – though perhaps they are also puzzled. “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands![2]” In their confusion they seek to determine Jesus’ place in their community, his status or honour.  To do this they identify his profession and his parentage. They remember that he is only an artisan after all. Workers in wood and stone were not respected as we might think. There would have been no work for a craftsman in a community the size of Nazareth. A tradesperson would have had to travel to find work, leaving their family at home and without protection. Those who had to make a living in this way were considered to be “without shame” that is, without the requisite sensitivity to protect their honour.

According to his fellows then, Jesus is not deserving of honour by virtue of his trade and certainly not by virtue of his birth. The villagers classify Jesus through his mother (not his father which was the norm.) This suggests that there was a question mark around the identity of his father and therefore around the honour of his mother.

The questions voiced by the crowd then, do not express their amazement or even their familiarity. Instead they are an attempt to put Jesus in his proper place, to refuse him the honour that seems to have been granted him in the previous scene.

The problem is that there is only so much honour to go around. Jesus’ status can only be increased at the expense of someone else’s, something that these poor villagers cannot and will not allow.

Home, it appears is not a place of welcome for Jesus. During his first visit home his family try to restrain him in the belief that he “is out of his mind”. Now, when he returns home having demonstrated his power over nature, over demons and even over death those who know him best remain unmoved, even skeptical of his growing status in the wider community. In the one place in which we imagine that Jesus would want to restore people to health, he finds that he is unwelcome and that the lack of welcome limits what he is able to do.

In our time and place honour is not such a rigid commodity. People can and do achieve the unexpected, people can and do overcome the limitations of birth, lack of education and poor connections.

That said, just as Jesus’ contemporaries wanted to box him in and keep him in his place, so too do we. Jesus’ contemporaries could not see the extraordinary in the ordinary person before their eyes. They refused to see the presence of God in this tradesperson of uncertain ancestry. We too are guilty of failing to see the transcendent and miraculous in the commonplace and in the everyday routine of our lives. We are tempted to look for God in the amazing and the extraordinary, the inspirational and the other-worldly when, as the life of Jesus demonstrates, God is just as likely to be found in the ordinary and the mundane – even among those who are considered of little worth.

God, in Jesus, entered the whole experience of human existence – the exciting and the unexciting, the exhilarating and the boring. If we don’t see and experience God in every aspect of our lives, it is not because God is not present, but because we choose not to notice.

[1]The tide is changing as we begin to demand higher ethical standards of our public figures and as women confront exploitative and abusive behaviours.

[2]The exclamation mark is in the English text, perhaps it too should be a question.