Reflections on Pentecost and Stewardship

Today we celebrated Pentecost at Priestfield by concluding our series on Stewardship. So far we had looked at our stewardship of creation, our relationships (on Christian Aid Sunday, so especially with the poor), our money and finally it was time to think about our stewardship of the gifts the Spirit gives. You can find the PowerPoint at www.priestfield.org.uk

But on Pentecost, it’s important to think about the gift of the Spirit before thinking about the gifts of the Spirit. The wind and the fire in Acts 2 tell us about the breath of Life the Spirit gives, and the journeying holy presence of God with us that guides us and burns up the dross to make us more like Jesus. The Sprit may be a gentle breeze sometimes, but perhaps is more likely to be a howling gale, blowing away the cobwebs, refreshing us and empowering us.

In 1 Corinthians 12 Paul reflects on the nature and purpose of the gifts the Spirit gives, but as those who read this passage in very different circumstances and culture we have to ask questions that help apply his teaching to my life in my time.

What gift(s) has the Spirit given to me? Maybe others can help me identify them.

Am I using them for the common good and not just for myself?

Am I using them with acceptance and humility – without either a sense of inferiority or superiority?

There is, however another question we need to ask – one that looks to the future and the ministry of our congregation.

What gifts does our church need at this time? We need to pray that the Spirit will give them to us, enabling to fulfil our local calling.

Bending towards justice

This morning I am watching the start of the trial of Ratko Mladic at The Hague and memories were stirred of my youth. I remember being fascinated by the trial of Adolf Eichmann, who was deeply involved in the implementation of the Holocaust. Eichmann was apprehended by Israeli agents in Argentina in 1960, put on trial in 1961 and executed in 1962. For months, newspaper pictures showed him in the dock behind a bulletproof screen while the court heard the chilling details of Eichmann’s activities – many of which seemed to be ‘everyday’ transport logistics, but which took countless thousands to their efficiently arranged deaths.

Eichmann was on the run for 15 years, hidden within some communities who knew him and those who did not. But eventually he was tracked down and placed before a court. In the end, his deeds were made known to the world and he had to answer for them.

Fresher in my memory is the foreboding and anger of the Balkan crisis of the 1990s. Time after time the political commentators prophesied that, on the election of Slobodan Milosevic in Serbia, Yugoslavia would descend into civil war. So it proved. The consequences of that civil war are well documented and probably the best known atrocity committed by either side was the massacre of Muslim men and boys at Srebrenica in 1995. Under Mladic’s command, Bosnian Serb fighters captured a so-called ‘safe area’ guarded by 400 Dutch UN peacekeepers. Frustratingly, these 400 UN soldiers did not have a mandate to engage in combat to defend civilians in danger and so walked out of the city leaving its inhabitants to the terrors of those who wanted to cleanse the land of their kind. After giving the people hope of safety, the world’s nations abandoned them, innocent civilians, to their deaths at the hands of Mladic’s execution squads. (The culpability of the UN in this incident must wait for another time, but I remember my deep frustration and anger that we deserted those whom we knew would die.)

But now Mladic is in the dock facing his accusers, another war-criminal being brought to justice after many years on the run having been sheltered by some communities who knew him and perhaps some who didn’t.

Eichmann was not the first fugitive from justice to be apprehended and Mladic will not be the last. The older I get and the more of these tragic events I see across the years the more I remember two quotations. The first is of classical origin which I learned in my school English class: ‘The mills of God grind slow, but they grind exceeding small.’ The other was used by Martin Luther King to predict that however long it took, the Civil Rights Movement would succeed: ‘The Arc of the Moral Universe Is Long, but It Bends Toward Justice.’

It should grieve all of us who have an ounce of humanity that justice should take so long to catch up with whose deeds are so calumnious. However, while it must never make us complacent, it is uplifting to know that sooner or later justice will be done. And if, perchance, they should escape the grasp of justice on earth, they, and we, will not evade giving account to God of all that we have done.

Le Changement C’est Maintenant

Change Now!

This week will see the inauguration of a new President of France, François Hollande, who was elected on the promise of ‘Le Changement c’est maintenant.’ He promises change, and change now. It got me to thinking about change and how we respond to the need for it.

There is no doubt that, throughout the ‘Western World,’ there is a need for change. We have an economic system and ethical values that have gone awry. But when we shout for change (now!) we often think, let’s change the President, or the Government, or the Church Minister, or the system. If we make these changes then all will be well. Then we discover that the new person or process in whom/which we put our trust is just as flawed as the last.

The changes we seek need to begin in ourselves, not others. It is our desires, hopes, ambitions and behaviours that need to be changed – but that will require help from beyond us. It is only through the transforming power of the Holy Spirit at work in us that we can change. Yet when we are changed we can help to transform what is around us. May God help us to see our own need for change, give us the power to do so, and then bring that transforming power to bear on a needy world.

To race or not to race, that is the question

Last night I was listening to the radio while getting ready for sleep – in this case not a good idea since it made me waken up and start thinking! Stephen Nolan’s R5Live newspaper review guests were arguing quite aggressively with a caller. The issue was whether or not the Bahrain F1 Grand Prix should take place while pro-democracy protests were being violently suppressed. They said no, and she said yes – if you can race in China with its poor record of human rights then you can race in Bahrain. If sporting links with a state are to be broken then governments should give a lead and advice, and they haven’t yet done so.

Consistently, the studio guests said that with China it is important to be on the inside helping to build relationships. We need to influence political development towards democracy at a time when there is not a full-blown attempted revolution, although there are other human rights issues. The difference with Bahrain is that, with the continuance of the ‘Arab Spring’ and the drive towards democracy in the Gulf, the ruling elite are, at this moment, engaged in the repression of legitimate protest. In the present social ferment the wealthy elite are seeking to use F1 as a showcase to the world that all is well in Bahrain.

I do not claim to have much wisdom to offer, but what struck me about this argument was that both sides were taking a pragmatic stance and neither side was taking a consistent principled stance. For example, if we fast forward to next year’s race, according to the argument of the studio guests as long as the civil unrest in Bahrain had been sufficiently suppressed, (as in China in 1989) so that all was quiet by then, it would be ok for the Grand Prix to take place regardless of how many people have been killed or imprisoned. That does not seem to me to be a workable policy, never mind a moral one.

Perhaps principled stances cannot be applied consistently across global situations because of political realities. But if that’s the case then at least we ought to recognise the fact and try to lay out some kind of guidelines for those seeking to pursue their legitimate business whether sport or not. Both business and sport are political realities: if you don’t do politics you don’t do life. The question for us is not whether or not we can separate sport and politics – we can’t, as has been proved so often. The question is where, when and how are we going to allow sport to be used politically, by us or by others? Debating the issues around this requires the involvement of sporting organisations and politicians. But it also needs input from theologians and ethicists to keep the discussion honest because we know that the lure of money and power are strong influences on our pragmatics.

Practise Resurrection

Practise Resurrection

How, you might ask, can we practise resurrection? Is resurrection not something that happened to Jesus 2000 years ago (so some people say), and if it is to happen to us at all, is it not something that will happen way in the future?

Yes, it did happen to Jesus, and it will happen to us – possibly way in the future, possibly nearer than we think, but still in the future. So the question, how can we practise resurrection, is a good one. The essence of the answer requires us to remember two things: the nature of the life of Jesus after his resurrection and how we relate to that life.

As we read and think about the stories of Jesus post-Easter, we discover that his resurrection body is not like our bodies are at present, or even like his own body before death and resurrection. Yes, it is solid and can eat food, but he also seems to appear on the scene unseen and then disappear equally quickly. Very strange. Tom Wright explains this by thinking of ‘heaven’ and ‘earth’ as interlocking. But even if he is correct (as I think he might well be), that doesn’t explain how we might practise (a verb) resurrection now.

As Christians who have been baptised into Christ, we share both in his death and his resurrection – his story is our story. So we are forgiven and experience the power of his resurrection life in our own lives. We can only live the Christian life now because the power of the resurrection life of Jesus is at work in us. The Gospel is not only ‘for the next world, while the hard realities of greed, cheating, and impurity are all that is left for the present world (Markus Barth).’ Resurrection life is to be lived, and lived in the hum-drum and the special bits of life, the daily grind and one-off spectaculars. It is about living out the life of Jesus day after day throughout all the challenges life throws at us.

Like the two on the road to Emmaus that first Easter Day, the power of the resurrection burns within us. Our task is to practise it in everyday life, and let that life bear witness to it. There is no more powerful witness in creation than a life that is living out the resurrection life of Christ through the Holy Spirit. Let us pray that we can do it.

Woman, behold your son

Some reflections given at today’s vigil at St Peter’s.

St Peter’s Good Friday Reflection 2012
‘Woman, behold your son.’ John 19:27

Family relationships are rarely easy, perhaps particularly those between children and parents. This has been famously expressed by Philip Larkin in ‘This be the verse.’ We’ll miss out the first couple of lines for the sake of discretion, but then he writes:
‘They fill you with the faults they had,
And add some extra just for you.’ And he finishes with the advice not to have any kids yourself.

This scene at the foot of the cross of Jesus does not happen in a vacuum or out of the blue – there is a family background and a social context. In the Gospel of John we do not have the birth narratives that we can romanticise in the way we do with Matthew and Luke, and indeed the Mother of Jesus is not even named in John. She appears in the story of the wedding at Cana in chapter 2, dropping a heavy hint to Jesus that he should do something about the lack of wine. So apparently his Mother believes that he is special, but we have no idea how his Mother projects forward to the outcome of Jesus’ specialness. On the other hand, in chapter 7 his siblings are deeply cynical about Jesus, goading him to go to Judea to see if he can persuade people who are less gullible than Galilean peasants.

And now his Mother stands at the foot of the cross. Whatever outcome she had pictured in her head or hoped for in her heart, this was not it. She had thought that she understood him and his place in the history of God’s people but now she is bewildered. This is disaster; this is desolation and despair. There is pain and shame here, and most importantly there is death. Her firstborn son for whom she had so many hopes is unquestionably about to die. The Romans will see to that. The joy and celebration of the wedding at Cana has evaporated and things have come to this pretty spectacle. This is the end. The end of hopes and dreams for him, and what is going to happen to me?

When we look at this scene not from the foot of the cross but from the cross itself, we find that Jesus, despite the agony of crucifixion, has such lucidity and awareness not only to know that his Mother is present beside him, but that, as her firstborn son he still has a responsibility towards her. There is no doubt that he, the family provider since the death of Joseph, is no longer going to be able to make that provision for her and so he entrusts her care and keeping to one of his dearest followers. It’s the only thing he can do – none of his siblings are nearby.

This saying of Jesus, ‘Woman, behold your Son,’ has an implicit double reference. Jesus’ Mother is to look upon the beloved disciple as her son from now on and in him she is to find her hope for life. But the reason she must do this is because she is beholding her own firstborn son in his final moments upon a Roman cross and, at least for the moment, she must let him go to fulfil his destiny in death.

Celebrating Easter

Some thoughts from my Priestfield Easter Blog.

Easter as a Season

‘Easter’ is a word that can carry a range of meanings. Sometimes we use it to include all the special events that took place in Jerusalem around the time when Jesus was raised to life – from Palm Sunday, through Maundy Thursday, to Good Friday and Easter Day. The truth is that it is only as we mark all these events that the Sunday of Resurrection has any meaningful content. We need to experience for ourselves the joyful anticipation of the entry to Jerusalem, followed by the utter desolation and despair of the disciples at the crucifixion of Jesus, before we can fully know the joy of that special Sunday.

Easter as a Day

Actually, joy was not the first emotion experienced on Easter Day. Confusion came first, swiftly followed by anger at the idea someone had stolen the body of Jesus. But then the stories came in about encounters with Jesus – a living, Risen Jesus – and while confusion was not exactly banished, it took second place to joy. Since that first Easter, joy has been the special mark of the day. We celebrate with heart, mind, voice and food – Jesus is alive for evermore and has conquered Death.

Easter as a Lifestyle

‘It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming!’ Life is not always joyful. Death still barges into our lives, and sometimes life still feels as if it’s Good Friday with its suffering. But Sunday is coming. We wait in hope for the Day when we shall share in the Resurrection of Christ. In the meantime, we live as ‘Easter People’ in whom the Risen Jesus lives. His life will flow through us to others that they too will share the experience and hope of the ‘New Creation’ life of Jesus. It is as we live in this hope that Paul assures us, ‘Your labour is not in vain.’ Life has conquered Death.