Guy and the Sheik

Guy Fawkes Day is fundamentally not about fireworks, family, and frightened animals. It is about religious dissent. It asks what are appropriate expressions and responses to religious dissent, and whether even today diverse beliefs can coexist in the same society.

Guy Fawkes was born in Yorkshire in 1570 into an upper middle class family. At age 23 he joined the Spanish Army and spent ten years serving on the continent. It was during this time he converted to Roman Catholicism. Upon returning to England he was subjected, like all Catholics, to the repressive decrees instituted by Elizabeth and continued by her successor James I. One decree passed in 1604, for example, imposed heavy fines on Catholics and confiscated their property.

The prevailing 17th century orthodoxy was that England was Anglican and all other expressions of faith were evidence of allegiance to foreign powers and the doorway to treason. Monarchy, nationalism, race, and religion were blended into one. Plurality was not tolerated, and where difference existed it was persecuted.

When Guy Fawkes and his fellow plotters failed with their explosive plan they were hung, drawn, and quartered. Not content to punish just a few the authorities rounded up thousands of innocent Catholics and imprisoned them too. In the paranoiac traditions of religious scapegoating Guy was called the “Great Devil”, and for centuries his stuffed effigy was annually burnt on November 5th. Only in recent years has ‘burning the Guy’ gone out of fashion.

The delineation of the world into goodies and baddies, and good and bad religion, is unfortunately all too common. Fed by the surety of conviction, and satisfying the simple-minded with the promise of security, it has led to the justification of all manner of violence towards those who believe differently. Persecuting religious dissent is a symptom of a weak society, unsure of itself and thus defensive.

Sheikh Alhilali is a close-to-home example of religious dissent. His views to the sensibilities of most are repugnant. ‘Misogynist’, ‘anti-Semitic’, and ‘supporter of Islamic insurgents’ are all labels that have been stuck on him, and not without some justification. He and his supporters protest that he is misunderstood. Most Australians and New Zealanders though can recognise bigotry in religious drag. Anglicans know plenty of examples from our religious past and present!

In the deservedly strong response to the Sheikh’s comments there is a significant number who want to gag him. If the Muslim community to which he is accountable want to censor him that is one thing. When politicians however suggest revoking the Sheikh’s permanent residency status and deporting him that is something else. We need to ask whether we believe in a society where strong and offensive viewpoints can be exchanged.

I don’t want to live in a homogenized society where viewpoints are always sanitized before publication. Bigotry will always be among us. When expressed it is ugly. Yet it won’t go away by muting or banning it. Bigotry needs to be confronted by the reason and experience of others.

Religious history is peppered with the repression of minorities. Some groups within these minorities occasionally responded with violence, like the Gunpowder Plotters. No civil society can tolerate that. However civil society can treat minorities equally before the law and allow minority views to be aired – even the obnoxious ones. It can also then share one of the great gifts of a secular democracy by criticising those obnoxious beliefs to hell.

Is God a cat?

If you are not a dog/god fan read this from my friend Celia's feline:

Is God a Cat?

One of the oddest things about humans is the way they anthropomorphise their God. If you listen to them talking about God (any main religion god) you get a picture of a sort of super human - almost always male, a person, a father, a director, sometimes even new employer. My thoughts were prompted from sitting on Celia's desk reading the blog of Ruth Gledhill of the Times. It is as if humans can't imagine a God that isn't human. I say what if She was a Cat. If God was a Cat, things would be different. For one thing, She'd make it clear that some of the human activities had got to stop - trapping and killing cats, shooting cats with air guns, kicking cats, etc. Instead churches would open their doors not just to church mice but to church cats. They'd take collections and go and buy cat food for strays. And all the starving little strays that scrounge a living in busy towns would know there was a sanctuary for them - a dry sheltered place with lots of room and cat food given out free. There'd be less church ritual (what's the point of if?), less standing up and kneeling, less human music (though some caterwauling would be lovely at midnight mass), and more practical charity. Humans would be allowed in to serve others (cats) and, if they persisted with their 'services" (which aren't really anything of the kind in practical terms) we could sit on their warm laps for the duration. Some churches already have their resident felines. At the Tower of London chapel there is Teufel, a black tom who is known for enjoying weddings. He often sits down for a nap on the bride's train. Rupert was assistant organist at St Lawrence, Ludlow. And Lucky is a convent cat. She joins in as the nuns sing Alma Redemptoris Mater. As humans no longer go to church, perhaps we could take over.

Of course, it is pretty bad news for mice if She is a Cat.
And even worse news for us, if God was a Mouse.

http://george-online.blogspot.com

Entering the Theological Dog-House

If you want to judge a religion firstly judge how many constraints it puts upon God, then judge the religion by its mercy. The untameable God who pushes us beyond our boundaries has always and continues to prod and shove us towards the exercise of mercy and compassion.

Jesus was a reforming Jew who rebelled against love being turned into legalism. His ministry was one of constant and unbridled compassion. Nowadays it seems that many Christian fundamentalists are trying their hardest to turn love back into legalism!

Every religion needs to examine its beliefs to see whether they encourage adherents to be more or less merciful, more or less tolerant, and more or less compassionate. This is the touchstone of faith: does your church make you kinder? Does your church make the world a kinder place? And if it doesn’t my advice is to ditch your church and go looking for God.

Kindness and compassion led St Francis of Assisi well beyond his comfort zone. There is a story told of Francis[1] and a savage wolf. The citizens of Gubbio were wary and frightened to venture beyond the city walls. Francis, both compelled by and trusting in God, went out alone to meet this wolf. The brute appeared. Francis made the sign of the cross and spoke, calling the beast “Brother Wolf” and telling him off for all the suffering he had caused. The wolf, having made ready to pounce, became very quiet, and in the end lay at Francis's feet. The tradition records that “[the wolf from then on] lived in the city ...and was fed by the people ...and never a dog barked at him, and the citizens grieved... at his death from old age.”

Let us note that, firstly, Francis was pushed by God to confront his fears. He ventured out, beyond where it was safe. Beware of the God. Secondly, Francis engaged with the wolf that others both feared and excluded. Risky behaviour. Thirdly, he brokered a deal that was of mutual benefit to both the wolf and the townsfolk, and built a lasting connection between them.

There was another solution available to the citizens of Gubbio: hire a hunter to kill the wolf. Time and again this has been what humans have done. Rather than befriend our fears we have killed that which has threatened us. It has led to the depletion and extinction of many animal species. It has led to many wars and generations fed by hatred. The story of the Wolf of Gubbio, on the other hand, invites us into building relationships of trust and mutuality with those we fear.

There are similar Francis stories around poverty and sickness – like when he hugged a leper; and around enemies and Islam – like when he visited the Sultan of Babylon. Each of these stories is about Francis being pushed by God beyond the limits of safety to embrace humans or animals others were frightened of and wished to exclude or destroy.

Our actions towards animals, or towards those who are labelled as deviant or different, or towards those with little status or power, or towards those of other religions or none… is the measure of our faith. This is not an easy or comfortable faith. Frequently you will find yourself consigned to the theological dog house. By siding with outsiders you become an outsider yourself. Ask Francis. Ask Jesus. Ask God.

[1]Almedingen, E.M. Francis of Assisi: A portrait, The Brodley Head: London, 1967.

Beware Of The God

“Beware of the God” reads the bright red sign outside our church. The kennel beneath it and the subscript advertising the upcoming animal service give the sign its context. Adults and children smile as they pass by.

Our detractors also love it. “Ah,” said one chap last week grinning at the thought, “at last, a theological health warning outside St Matthew’s.” He thinks visitors should be wary of the God within.

I agree with him. The God we worship here is not safe, and will not make you safe.

There is a deep Hebraic truth that God cannot be contained or tamed by our desires to have an orderly, secure, and predictable life. What Christianity often does to God is what Governor Reagan of California in the 1970s tried to do to the Redwoods, namely make them into lounge furniture. That which is wild, wonderful, and free is an affront to our worst managerial instincts. It needs to be cut down, domesticated, and made into something comfortable to sit on and sip our coffee.

Proponents of Christianity throughout the ages have tried to keep God under control by creating fences out of the Bible, the Creeds, synods, clergy, hymns, and liturgies. Yet, we need to be aware of who and what we are dealing with. For God continually breaks out of our constructs and language - popping up in others’ holy texts, speaking through social and political outcasts, refusing to favour any one race, religion, or sexual orientation, and generally being a darn nuisance to those who like decency and order. Be aware, this God is not safe.

If you want to judge a religion firstly judge how many constraints, collars, leashes, and fences it puts around God.

p.s. check out Deborah's site in the land of Oz www.bewareofthegod.com

What do you see?

"There was once a holy man in India who lived in prayerful state – so much so that everyone thought he was nuts. One day, having begged for food in the village, he sat by the roadside and began to eat, when a dog came up and looked at him hungrily. The holy man then began to feed the dog; he himself would take a morsel, and then give a morsel to the dog as though he and dog were old friends. This was an extraordinary sight in this part of India at the time. People with nothing didn't share their food with dogs! Soon a crowd gathered to watch.

One of the men in the crowd jeered at the holy man. He said to the others, "What can you expect from someone so insane that he is not able to distinguish between a human being and a dog?"

The holy man replied, "Why do you laugh? Do you not see Jesus seated with Jesus? Jesus is being fed and Jesus is doing the feeding. So why do you laugh, oh Jesus?"

This is a story about vision, about what you see. One could see just an old man foolishly giving what he cannot afford to give to a dog. This way of seeing invites one to either deride or reprove the old man. On the other hand, one could see that God or Jesus is in everyone – the man, the dog, the spectators, and even you. This way of seeing invites one to treat every living creature as holy and worthy of respect and dignity.

Beyond Pluto

In ancient times the word ‘planetai’, meaning wanderers, was applied to the seven heavenly bodies that moved. They couldn’t see Neptune and Pluto. Also, being pre-Galileo, it was assumed the sun was one of the seven and the earth wasn’t. The definition of planet was therefore not fixed but was to be influenced by changes in science and thinking in the years ahead.

This is not so different from the Christian history of God. Within the pages of the Bible God progresses from being a personal deity, to a tribal deity, to a deity who was pan-tribal, to one that transcended all human constructs. The location of God moved from the desert, to the Temple, to a literal realm in the sky, to the presence of the historical Jesus. Later in the early centuries of Christianity, via an intricate weaving of Greek and Hebrew thought with the experience of transformative love in Jesus, God was woven into the tapestry called Trinity. But the development of God didn’t stop there, locked in the 4th century. God as ‘process’, as ‘go-between’, as ‘liberator’, as ‘matrix of grace’… were all still to come.

The influence of science and philosophy on the definition and development of God is not to be underestimated. Indeed it is the interplay between experience, history, and science that has pushed at and shown as puny the simplistic notions of God.

God is a word that defies close definition. Language being a system of signs and codes is based around the visible and tangible. When language has to be found for the invisible and intangible then multiple metaphors are used. We say the thing we are trying to describe is something like this, but also not like that. It is also something like this, but also not like that. No one set of metaphorical clothes quite fits. In theology we surmise that such is the nature of God that no sets of clothing will ever quite fit.

The other word in theology that defies close definition is soul. Soul, or ‘heart’ as it’s sometimes called, is an attempt to talk about God in us and us in God. It blends passion, feeling, wisdom, and wholeness. A person can gain the whole universe, be as rich and successful as he or she could possibly imagine, yet without attending to their soul they gain nothing. To nurture the soul, the task of spirituality, is therefore very important. All sorts of little things help – walking in the bush, conversing with a child, smelling the coffee before you drink it, laughing often… Yet answering the question of why these things help is harder. It is as if the universe is inside us, and all the spinning, pulling, moving and amazing wonders need to be held together in some way.

When I was a teenager I spent many nights each year sleeping under the stars. There is nothing quite like falling asleep beneath an enormous canopy of twinkling lights, variously arranged, and different each evening. Being a child of modernity I knew that the blackness of the sky was not a great dome that encompassed the earth and above which a kingly God sat. I knew the blackness was all I could see of the fathomless depth beyond, where the experience we call God might or might not be. For everything that astronomy could tell us there was always more it couldn’t. Yet, like the best of theology, its purpose was to ignite wonder and imagine limitless possibility.

Should Pluto be relegated? The debate will continue for some time yet. The pragmatists will probably triumph over the purists. They usually do. Yet the former need to be cognisant that their revised definition will in time also change. Heavenly bodies are not always what they seem.

To Pluto

“Honk if you love Pluto” declares the T-shirt. Not too dissimilar from the ones promoting honking for Jesus. And, like so often happens with discussing heavenly bodies, the Pluto debate is up and raging. The International Astronomy Union (IAU) meeting in Prague last month adopted a new definition of a planet – one that knocked Pluto out of the club.

Living on the extremities of planetary imagination - even with the Hubble Space Telescope it is still merely a bleary sphere in shades of grey - Pluto didn’t join the club until 1930. That was the year when a 24-year-old American by the name of Clyde Tombaugh mapped movement where movement had not been mapped before. A young girl from Oxfordshire suggested the name of Pluto, Roman God of the Underworld. Beyond Pluto was the abyss of unknowing.

Since the 1930s Pluto has shrunk. With each advance in technology Pluto’s measurements have diminished. It’s now smaller than our moon. Hence the T-shirts, without the honking, that proclaim ‘size doesn’t matter!’ and ‘is a dachshund not a dog?’

What does matter to the astronomical elites is the discovery in the 1990s of other Pluto-like bodies on the edge of our telescopic vision. And not just one, or five, but hundreds, and probably thousands!

This naming debate has spilled over into popular consciousness. The public wanted a voice. Pluto was not just a bleary dot out in space it is something people love. It inspired and inspires myths, art, and poetry. It is part of astrology charts – ‘Pluto direct’ is a way of talking about transformational energy. Kids identify with Pluto’s smallness. In particular adults who forlornly hope that ‘whatever has been will forever be’ find its demotion out of the Big Nine major league of planets difficult to accept.

The pragmatists of astronomy suggest that instead of knocking Pluto out of the club that the IAU change the rules. In other words expand the definition of planet to include not only the eight and Pluto but also Eris [formerly known as Xena] and Ceres. The purists though argue that this will open the doors to hundreds maybe millions of potential new planets. This is a debate about not only who can join the club and who controls who joins the club, but also the fear of loosing control of the boundaries. Sounds very much like Christianity me!

Colouring The City

Sun breaks through the clouds
Igniting the rain-drenched road.
The world looks new
Washed and gleaning
Glistening as the fairies dance.

Pink is a powerful colour
Favoured of the young princess
Pirouetting in the privacy of her room.
Yet it is largely absent from the tie racks
of downtown business.

Colour is political in the city
Blue and red compete for allegiance
Green is a brand without a billboard.
Brown, bent, and cold are
the colours of poverty.

The fairies dance up the road
Dodging the traffic, slurs, and unbelievers.
Only little children hold their breath as
imagination confronts the colours
offering an inkling of hope.

The hope of the city is found in the contrasts – of ideology, beliefs, people, and colour.

Drinks on the House

Jesus on a beerglass to spearhead Christmas campaign - ekklesia news service 14/09/06

A Christmas poster campaign aimed at getting people talking about God is to feature a picture of Jesus on a beer glass.The image of Jesus in the froth left on the sides of an almost empty pint glass next to the words 'Where will you find him?' will spearhead the Churches' Advertising Network (CAN) initiative.

The poster picks up on the current media preoccupation with finding images of Jesus in everything from egg yolks to currant buns. Next to an empty beer glass in which a face can be seen are the words "Where will you find him?" and pointing to the web address myspace.com/isthisjesus.

Where is Jesus at the Dinner Table?

Anglicanism at its best is into diversity but not apartheid. You can’t go off into your corner, erect your security walls of right belief, and stay there. We are not the ‘closeted brethren’. Like it or not you have to relate to the hetero-orthodox. You have to relate to those you find repugnant. We call it being in communion.

All of us are invited to Jesus’ cosmopolitan dinner party. You are invited along with the weird, the wacky, the wonderful, the heretics, the harmful, and the harmless. And we don’t sit in silence eating our own pre-packed sanitized meal. We talk, we share food, and we listen... Some have washed their hands. Some have washed their hearts. Others are dirty. Infection is possible. Purity is out the window. If you don’t want to risk getting grubby don’t come.

Jesus is there too. But, and this is the hard bit, he’s in disguise. None of us are sure who he is. It’s not like he’s got a crown plastered on his head or a cross strapped to his back. Is Jesus that nice person or that disagreeable one? Is he the pain in the neck that won’t shut up, or the quiet morose one sipping his merlot? Is he a she? And which she is he? Like I said, this is hard. We don’t know whom he is agreeing with, if anyone. All we know is that he is there. This is what I think our new archbishop, David Moxon, was meaning when he said recently that “in any discussion the first principle is that Christ is in the room.”

The hard part of not knowing what Jesus looks like is that in our discussion and arguments around the dinner table each of us will have to find authority within ourselves. We can’t turn to Jesus and seeing him or her nodding in agreement with us. There will be no external reference point, no judge or encyclopedia to determine right and wrong. On second thoughts I wonder whether any archbishop would really want that.

My punt is heaven’s going to be a little like this. For some it will be hell.

Dining with Jesus

With compassion and acceptance at the core of his values Jesus got a reputation for wild dinner parties. Around the same table would sit a rural fisherman, a one-time leader of the Synagogue, a prostitute, a local bullyboy, a Roman soldier, an immigrant woman from over the border…. Jew and gentile, male and female, strange and familiar…

The Hebraic purity system had strict boundaries in place: “Don’t eat with them, don’t touch that, don’t fraternize with her… Look out or you’ll get grubby… and then you won’t be able to eat with us!” Purity was about rules. Piety meant adhering to them.

For Jesus purity was constituted by what was in one’s heart. If compassion was in one’s heart, then piety meant being hospitable, generous, and willing to suspend one’s prejudices in order to meet with strangers. For Jesus it wasn’t about keeping to the rules; it was about letting love be the measure of all you do.

It’s not that Jesus was into a tolerance that said, “Everything is okay”. It is possible to find verses that infer, for example, that Jesus was opposed to the Roman occupation and unsupportive of bullying and prostitution. At the same time I don’t think it is possible to categorically say that every soldier, tax collector, and prostitute Jesus dined with had renounced the morally disagreeable aspects of their professions.

In other words, at the table with Jesus the agreeable and disagreeable sat together. The sinners and saints broke bread together. The ideas, comments, and chat were not religiously sanitized. I imagine there were some pretty colourful words and some pretty novel views bandied around. The good, the bad, and the grubby were all together.

“What makes a person holy,” Jesus intonated, “is not who you mix with or what they say. What makes a person holy is being true to the God of compassion that wants to include everyone. It’s the words you say and things you do that will reveal that God.”

The House, Sex, and Blessings

Tonight I have, once again, the privilege and duty of attending the annual Auckland Diocesan Synod. So today I’ve been writing speeches. The one below is seconding a motion on that in-house debate about who is allowed in the Anglican house and who isn’t. As well as, of course, the supposedly vexed issued of same-sex blessings.

Dear Members of Synod,

In seconding this motion I wish to firstly affirm the resolution of General Synod in its desire to include all Anglican bishops and churches in the two instruments of unity, the Lambeth Conference and the Anglican Consultative Council.

Certainly in the metaphorical construct of the Anglican Church as ‘family’ it is contrary to family unity and wellbeing to reject the errant children and refuse to admit them to the familial dining table. For resolution to occur all family members need to be invited to the table, and invited to participate.

Now, from my perspective, the errant children are not the American and Canadian churches, but those who are seeking their exclusion. Gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Christians have always been part of the Church. Of course a number of you won’t share my perspective, nor do I expect you to. I do expect though that as Anglicans in Aotearoa with our history of working at numerous issues of difference, like race, gender, and sexuality, we would encourage the wider Communion to make physical room at its tables for those who see and experience life differently.

Secondly, the last clause of this motion gives me the opportunity to tell a little of the story of St Matthew-in-the-City and how I understand the notion of blessing.In the 1970s the then vicar, Maurice Russell, allowed a group of gay, lesbian, and transgender Christians to meet for prayer in the Thomas Chapel. In time this group grew into the Auckland Community Church and held regular evening services. The effect on the ministry of St Matthew’s was significant. We were seen as a safe place for gay people and as a result many joined our morning congregation. The clergy were also affected. Apart from becoming targets for those who found such hospitality objectionable, we were privileged to hear something of what it was like to be gay and Christian and how destructive hetero-sexual norms could be. We were also approached by couples that wished to affirm their love, commitment, and fidelity to each other, and be prayed for and blessed by a priest. And so it has been for nearly thirty years.

In recent times being blessed has become more controversial than being welcomed or prayed for. At St Matthew’s we understand blessing to be simply, and profoundly, about proclaiming the love of God.

To bless or not to bless is therefore on one level not a moral decision. It is not about approving the lifestyle or morality of heterosexual or homosexual couples. Just as by dining with a great variety of people Jesus was not making a comment about their morality. He was rather making a comment about God’s morality. God’s love included them. Once that love had been experienced they were then free to respond however they chose.

“Hey, Glynn, what about someone we find morally repugnant? Should a priest bless them?” My answer is simply “Yes.” Of course offering a blessing in some situations is not easy. Yet most times we do it.

Any couple, gay or straight, saintly, sinful or somewhere in between, should be able to come to a priest for a blessing. The priest is not making a statement about their morality, but about the unconditional love of God.

Models of Church: House or Ship?

There are some who are attracted to Christianity by its perceived stability. In a world that seems to be constantly in flux here is a religion that has endured 2,000 years. With traditions, rites and orders dating back centuries, with buildings made to endure, here permanence is presumed. No shifting wind or whim is going to change the Church.

One well-known hymn of my childhood was “Christ is made the Sure Foundation”. It talks about the Church being like a house, a ‘Temple’, and Christ being ‘the cornerstone’. With sure foundations of Bible and tradition, centred on Christ, the Church will be rock solid, able to withstand the storms of change and doubt.

Much of the debate in the Christian world is between those who want to reinforce the foundations, strengthen the walls, and keep foreign winds and doctrines out, and those who want to open the windows and doors to the world and be prepared to change time-honoured methods and doctrines in order to do so.

Yet many of us tire of this debate, not because the issues are unimportant, but because the model of the Church as a house is not true to our experience of God, faith, and community. A building doesn’t move. It isn’t meant to. The model assumes that the land won’t move either. It assumes that change is peripheral to community, faith, and of course God.

I prefer the model of a ship. The late Archbishop Helder Camara wrote:

Pilgrim: when your ship, long moored in harbour, gives you the illusion of being a house; when your ship begins to put down roots in the stagnant water by the quay: put out to sea! Save your boat’s journeying soul, and your own pilgrim soul, cost what it may.[i]

If one considers the Church to be more like a ship than a house, then everything changes. The Bible ceases to be a brick to fortify your structure or throw at your enemy, but is food stored for the journey. It gives you energy for the challenges before you. The traditions of the Church are like a sailor’s almanac, helping you with the little tasks, teaching the theory of steering, but not doing the work for you. God too changes. Instead of being the property overseer and the gracious host, God is the wind in your sails and the beat in your heart.

The models of house and ship also have different attitudes to leaks. I think of leaks in the Church as the things that go wrong, the plans that don’t quite work out, and the hurt people who distribute their hurt around. In a house a leak needs urgent attention. It drips on your head and can rot your walls. It needs to be repaired before your dinner guests arrive, or are even invited. In a ship, however, a leak is expected. Bilge pumps are normative. You don’t stop the ship to attend to them, unless they are very serious. Leaks are part of sailing.

Yet the biggest difference between the two models is safety. The house, even an open house, speaks of security, stability, and safety. The inhabitants know where they are, what to expect, and even who they might meet at the door. The ship, on the other hand, is heading out into unknown waters. Its occupants are on a journey. There is significant risk involved. The familiar towns and headlands are no longer there. The good old ways become more irrelevant day by day. God, faith, and community all change, and become more essential - more of your essence.

[i] Camara, D.H. A Thousand Reasons For Living, Darton, Longman and Todd, 1981, p.40.

The Politics of Eucharist

The biblical antecedent of Eucharist is the manna from heaven story.[i] Manna, the food of liberation, is found not in the Big Red sheds of Egypt but in the wilderness beyond Pharaoh’s control. Manna is bread that is to be shared, not stored for profit. It is bread that comes courtesy of God, not from the machinations of the market with more landing on the palates of the rich than on the plates of the poor.

It has served the interests of the ruling classes to de-politicize the Eucharist and turn it into an individualistic private act of devotion. With our sins of disobedience confessed we were to kneel and bow our heads to God, as we would to the king. We were to receive of the king’s bounty and go forth quietly to live subservience lives. We dressed our bishops and priests like royalty: “Yes, m’ Lord, you know best.” From Constantine on the paramount political function of the Church has been to sanction, and thus sanctify, the power of the state.

As God said to Moses; ‘Stop groveling and get moving. I want my people to be free. I don’t want to hear about your shortcomings and guilt. I don’t want you to wallow in it. Saying sorry isn’t going to free my people. Decisive, confrontational, planned action is. When you act, you’ll find me acting with you. Together we will walk out of slavery into freedom.’

It is no mistake that Matthew’s Gospel pictures Jesus as the new Moses. It is also no mistake that Constantinian Christianity removed Jesus from the picket line, stuck a crown on his head, and plonked him in a starry heaven – as far removed from working class people as possible.

The Eucharist has also been de-politicized by debate. Is the bread and wine real flesh and blood, transubstantiation, consubstantiation, or symbolic substance? Who can receive it – divorcees, children, gays and lesbians, Buddhists and Muslims, anyone? Such disagreements still divide the Church, diminish our potency, and serve those who fear our power.

The Eucharist is marching food. Think of it as a high-protein energy bar for those communities that passionately burn for justice. It brings us individuals, all the little spluttering, erratic flames and the torches that we are, into one bonfire. Together we can light up the sky bringing hope to those in darkness.

Eating is a communal act more than an individual one. Some days as individuals we can’t even amble to the clothes line let alone stand on any picket line. Yet we belong. We belong to a community that stands for justice. Newborn babes belong, folk stricken with ailments belong, the brave belong, the weak belong, and even those who don’t believe can choose to belong.

For too long the high-protein power bar for the visionary Jesus movement has been reduced to a pious after-dinner mint for individual penitents.

We need to recover the potency of the Eucharist. It is God’s gift and it’s divine. In eating we come together. In solidarity there is healing. With healing comes the ability to re-vision. With renewed vision comes the passion to plan and act. With action we live our prayers.

The Eucharist calls us to action. Not for action’s sake, but for all the forsaken. It is a holy meal for the sake of the whole world.

[i] Exodus 16

Joe Hill and Jesus

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
Alive as you or me:
Said I, but Joe you’re ten years dead;
I never died said he.

In Salt Lake, Joe, Great God, said I,
Him standing by my bed;
They framed you on a murder charge,
Said Joe but I ain’t dead.

The copper bosses framed you Joe
They shot you Joe said I;
Takes more than guns to kill a man,
Said Joe I did not die.

Joe Hill ain’t dead he says to me,
Joe Hill ain’t never died;
Where working men are out on strike,
Joe Hill is at their side.

And standing there as big as life
A-smiling with his eyes.
Said Joe, what they forgot to kill
Went on to organize!

From San Diego up to Maine,
In every mine and mill –
Where working folk defend their rights
It’s there you’ll find Joe Hill.

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
Alive as you or me:
Said I, but Joe you’re ten years dead;
I never died said he.
I never died said he.[i]

There is obvious Christic allusions in this ballad eulogizing Joe Hill, a working class hero, who was killed in 1915. Like Jesus he was concerned about injustice. Like Jesus this concern rallied the forces of wealth and might against him. Like Jesus he was killed. Like Jesus he lives on, immortalized in song and deed.

Let’s imagine that Joe had been with his friends the night before he was arrested. Let’s imagine that he’d taken a pint of beer and a chunk of hard tack,[ii] likened them to his body, and shared them round. And let’s imagine Joe told them that every time before they go out on the picket line, every time before they stand up to injustices, every time before they fight for what is right, they are to eat and drink and remember the spirit - that is Joe’s spirit, and the spirit of their forebears who struggled, and the spirit of those standing beside them.

This ritual is about re-membering, bringing together the past with the present, and the dead with the living. It is a ritual that empowers people. It focuses them on the tradition of protest of which they are a part. It focuses them on the cost of that protest. And it focuses them on the dream of life lived free of oppression, hatred, classism, and prejudice.

I don’t know very much about Joe Hill. I do though know his song. And I have met his spirit and joined with it. I know a lot more about Jesus, been taught his songs, and have met and joined his spirit too. While every spirit is unique, there is a resonance between these two spirits.

Here's one of our Eucharistic prayers:

“Here today, through bread and wine, we renew our journey with Jesus and his disciples. We renew our unity with one another, and with all those who have gone before us in this place. We renew our communion with the earth and our interwovenness with the broken ones of the world. We take bread, symbol of labour, symbol of life. We will break the bread because Christ, the source of life, was broken for the excluded, exploited and downtrodden. We take wine, symbol of blood, spilt in war and conflict, symbol too of new life. We will drink the wine because Christ, the peace of the world, overcomes violence.”

This is a call to political action. This is a call to stand with Christ on the picket lines of history – everywhere oppression is rampant, freedom is suppressed, and bread is not shared. The spiritual is political, it can be no other. This Eucharistic act re-members the past and binds it to the present in order to build the future. It is holy, and it is potent.

[i] By Alfred Hayes and Earl Robinson
[ii] Hardtack is thick cracker made of flour, water, and sometimes salt.

Banks and Churches

I walked fifty metres down Zurich’s Hottingerglasse and into the local bank. There were two female tellers both sitting behind desks. They were on a raised platform in order that, when the customer was standing, they had a corresponding sightline. No one else was in the bank. ‘This feels different’, I thought.

What was missing was the obvious security. There was no burly guard with weapon ready. There were no doors that captured you in a capsule while an invisible camera checked your underwear. There were no grills, toughened glass screens, or obvious deterrents for bank robbers.

Now please understand, this was no cheap, run-down bank. This was a branch of Credit Suisse, in the largest city in Switzerland, the banking capital of the world. This was where one could expect state-of-the-art security. Instead I was treated to state-of-the-art service.

I did note however that security existed. After signing my traveller’s cheque the money arrived via a cylinder from, I guess, the back room. Security was there, it was just not thrust in your face.

I was impressed by this bank. Someone had sat down and thought ‘How can we make this bank as friendly and receptive as possible?’ and then did it. Other banks have sat down and thought ‘How do we make our bank as secure as possible?’ The type of bank you have will depend upon which of these two questions dominates.

When it comes to churches there is an equivalent pair of questions: ‘How can we make this church service as welcoming as possible to newcomers?’ and ‘How can we faithfully continue our religious traditions?’ The type of church you have will depend upon which of these two questions dominates.

If you were serious about welcoming newcomers – and here there is a big difference between what churches say and what they do – then I think as a starter you could give people on arrival a laminated card with the following features:

+ It would be in 3 or 4 languages
+ It would tell you where you could sit
+ It would tell you what’s available for children
+ It would indicate where the toilets are
+ It would tell you about hearing loops and wheelchair access
+ It would tell you the approximate length of the service
+ It would invite people to stay for tea or coffee afterwards
+ It would tell you how to stay in contact with our church
+ It would say what Holy Communion is, and who can and how to receive it.
+ It would tell you about the collection of money and whether you are obliged to give anything.
+ It would tell you about taking photographs and turning off cellphones.

That branch of Credit Suisse on Hotteringlasse proclaimed the message of people being more important than money. Not bad for a bank! How do we, the Church, proclaim the message that people are what we care about most?

A Day At The Beach

A family of five were enjoying a day at the beach. The children were swimming and building sandcastles.

In the distance a little old lady appeared. Her grey hair was blowing in the wind and her clothes were dirty and ragged. She was muttering something to herself as she picked things up from the beach and put them into her bag.

The parents called the children together and told them to stay away from the old lady.

As she passed by, bending down every now and then to pick things up, she smiled at the family. But her smile wasn’t returned.

Many weeks later they learnt that the old lady had made it her lifelong crusade to pick up bits of glass off the beach so children wouldn’t cut their feet.

Jesus said, “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

The story is from A. De Mello Prayer of the Frog p.169

Walking The Imagination

There I was in Disney's world waiting for the darlings to finish a ride before dashing to the next one. I was licking an overpriced icecream and watching the world go by.

A 70 year old man came by, stopped, and asked me for directions. We chatted for a while. Long enough for me to learn that he was here by himself. He wasn't escorting grandchildren about. He was here for himself.

Now I know there are men who frequent children's play areas for evil reasons. Yet I would like to think that he wasn't so motivated. Rather I would like to think, as our conversation indicated, that he wanted a day off boules, wine, and adult talk. He wanted to give his imagination a day out.

I wonder if I will be courageous enough at 70 to go to a children's theme park or to the zoo when I tire of being a grownup. "Goodbye bills, housework, and normality, see ya later - I'm off to walk the imagination."

What's Happened to Disneyland?

Disneyland, Paris. America transplanted into Europe. It is a children’s wonderland with no leaf out of place, no discarded cigarette butts, no flaking paint, and no beggars at the gate.

Beggars at gates are quite common in Paris. The supermarket, next door to where I was staying, had a regular beggar, as do a lot of shops. I always tried to put something into her paper cup.

Disneyland is a fantasy world that is only for those who can afford NZ$700 per day [that was the entrance fee for my family!]

Yet I had expected this sanitized, expensive view of reality. What I had not expected was the lack of imagination.

Somewhere, at some time, creativity stalled. The Disneyland I visited 30 years was imaginatively similar to the Disneyland of today. Nothing very much has changed in three decades. Sure, there were a few more rides that went a little faster [sometimes a lot faster!] and there were the gimmicks from the latest Disney movies. However there was little in the way of cutting edge creativity and exploratory use of the imagination. One would have thought, for example, that after three decades they could put us in gravity-less bubbles and propel us into space?

What has happened? In these days when cinematically we can create just about anything, why isn’t it happening at the most renowned children’s playground in the world?

Bring An Egg

Hi everyone,

It’s good to be back in Aotearoa.

Here’s an interesting story I heard in Paris:

There are a few black African tribes that settle conflict with the symbol of an egg. When the conflict has lasted long enough for there to be significant damage to individuals and the community, the feuding parties are invited to come to a meeting holding an egg. The eggs are put together to form a nest. The idea is that the nest [community well-being] needs to be mended. The conflict has escalated to such a degree that children aren’t being feed and the market place isn’t working.

The eggs also represent fragility – they need to be carefully handled, just like people. And they represent, like other fertility symbols, the possibility of new hope - that a desire for the good of all might triumph over damaged egos and vested interests.

Maybe all the bishops could bring an egg to Lambeth in 2008?

Lucky