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A Skinny Fairtrade Latte in the Food Court of Life - Page 622

  • Lent Reflections (23)

    Passing the half way mark, and into the fourth week of Lent now.

    Today's diverse and intriguing selection of passages is

    Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22
    Genesis 9:8-17
    Ephesians 1:3-6

    As it happens, I read them in GNB as that is the default version on the software I happen to have on this computer.  I'd love to check a whole heap of translation but the two online tools I use - Bible Gateway and Oremus - seem to be 'down' today (see* at end of post)  And I am way too lazy to drag several big Bibles off my shelves to read what they say, but have checked a couple.  Obviously the key message is identical, but nuances vary.

    Of the three, it was the psalm, or part psalm, that caught my attention, especially the beginning of verse 17...

    Some were fools, suffering because of their sins and because of their evil;
    they couldn't stand the sight of food and were close to death.
    Then in their trouble they called to the LORD, and he saved them from their distress.
    He healed them with his command and saved them from the grave.
    They must thank the LORD for his constant love, for the wonderful things he did for them.
    They must thank him with sacrifices, and with songs of joy must tell all that he has done.

    Psalm 107: 17 -22 GNB

    "Some were fools..."

    CEV says, 'some of you were foolish...'

    NRSV says, 'some were sick through their sinful ways, and because of their iniquities endured affliction'

    NIV says, 'some became fools...'

    Hebrew interlinear would give something like, 'because of their iniquity through the way of fools...'

    Interesting.  At one extreme, GNB and NIV, people are called fools, at the other, NRSV, no such attribute is assigned, in between lies the Hebrew and CEV, which denote foolishness.  The distinction between terming a person a 'fool' and their actions 'foolish' is subtle but important.  Especially since there are the scary words of Jesus in the Matthew 5:22

    "But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, 'Raca,' is answerable to the Sanhedrin. But anyone who says, 'You fool!' will be in danger of the fire of hell." NIV, inclusivised.

    Lots of Bibles have a footnote here, because 'fool' is a word used carelessly and casually in contemporary English, suggesting stupidity, ignorance, daftness, silliness etc.  But for the first century hearers, so we are told, it meant 'some one who was morally deficient'.  And so we also need to heed Matthew 7:1-2

    “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."

    To say nothing of the line on the Lord's Prayer that trips so readily from our tongues... forgive our sins as we forgive...

    Do I do or say things that may be construed 'foolish' in an everyday sense?  Undoubtedly.  Does that make me 'a fool'?  I kind of hope not.

    Do I say or do, or not say or not do, things that render me morally deficient, things that could be construed 'sin' daily.  Alas, if not the kind of things that will ever make tabloid headlines, then yes, I do.  Am I sinner?  Of course I am.

    But... if I take seriously what the Bible says, and specifically what Jesus says, I have no right to judge anyone else and assign them the title 'fool' or 'morally deficient' or a 'sinner' that privilege lies with God alone.  That means those whose actions or in-actions I perceive as sin-filled.  Perhaps I am permitted to express my disquiet, but I have no right to pronounce judgement.  I am in danger hear of tying myself into theological knots!  Surely sin should be named - injustice, idolatry, greed, lust, etc, etc.  Yes, it should.  But not as if I am judge, jury and executioner.  Oh dear, I have rambled along and ended up no clearer than when I began... I really am a wandering Aramean in a wilderness of bewilderment...


    Name Un-named, God beyond defining


    How easily words trip from my tongue


    How readily words like 'fool' or 'idiot' are uttered

    And cannot be withdrawn


    How quickly I cause damage with carelessness of language

    (or am hurt by that of others)


    How smoothly I slide into judgementalism

    That I am somehow morally superior

    To those who disagree with my understanding


    How often I replay conversations in my head

    'Should have said this'

    'Wish I hadn't said that'


    How do I find the balance?


    How do I name as wrong that which I am convinced is wrong

    And not condemn the person for whom that is not so?


    How do I live with disagreement in a way that brings life

    Rather than avoids confrontation?


    How do I avoid foolishness - stupidity, ignorance, carelessness, callousness?


    God who is Word

    Transform my words

    That Love may motivate each syllable I utter

    That Grace may ooze from sentences I speak

    That my anxiety and rehearsing of things said or unsaid

    May be displaced

    By prayer for those

    With whom I speak.


    *Bible Gateway now back up!

  • Elastic Limits? Brittle Transitions?

    There is in physics, or chemistry, or materials science, or all three, the concept of an elastic limit.  It runs very crudely thus - you can stretch something by so much and when you let go it returns to its original length and state.  If you stretch it beyond its elastic limit, it cannot do this, it is damaged, weakened and unable to fulfil its intended role.  Usually, from my limited experience of experiments related to this, the yield point occurs close to one end, not exactly in the middle.  You could try it, I suppose, with a rubber band, keeping on stretching it just a bit further and a bit further until it breaks.  I am wondering if there is an analogy here for churches that endeavour to be broad?  Is it possible to stretch too far or too often, and so lead to inevitably snapping off of some part?

    There is another concept, the ductile-brittle transtion that occurs in some metals at certain temperatures, and was, if anyone is vaguely interested, the flaw in the design of the Liberty Ships.  Essentially, above this temprature, metals are ductile, bendable, malleable, shapeable.  Below this temperature they are hard, brittle, fragile, easily snapped and broken.  Is there maybe an analogy here for churches attempting to tackle thorny topics?  How do we keep ourselves ductile rather than brittle?  Is such a transition inevitable under certain 'temperatures' or can we find ways to remain ductile?

    When I read or hear stuff in the media about churches at the moment, it all feels very polarised, lots of brittleness, lots of talk of limits being reached.  I find, too, that I become more hard and spikey in my responses... is it possible to remain stretchy without snapping?  Is it possible to avoid the chill of the transition to brittleness?  Is the good ship Liberty in Christ doomed to break up in a sea of disagreement?

    I wish I had some answers... instead I try to focus on doing what God has called me to do, being who God has called me to be, and hoping that's good enough.

  • Lent Reflections (22)

    Today's readings:

    Psalm 84

    Ezra 6:1-16

    Mark 11:15-19

    Still with our Temple theme, we have the account of Darius undertaking the rebuilding of the Temple which had been destroyed under Nebuchadnezzar (a name I always enjoy typing!) and we have Jesus overturning the tables in the Temple.  Very contrasting stories, which serve as reminder about our attitudes to buildings. 

    One of the dangers of my largely 'functionalist' if such a word exists, views of church premises, is that we can become lazy and cavalier in our attitude to them.  I suspect I confuse people with the hotchpotch of contrdictions I express.  I get annoyed when dead light bulbs aren't replaced, when coats and bags are heaped on available surfaces, when things are left lying around so that anyone coming to worship enters an untidy room.  I am known to realign table cloths, adjust seating, centre symbols (yes, very anal, I know) to create a mood, a moment.  At the same time, I am untroubled by oft-repaired battered hymnbooks, by chairs with wonky legs, by children wandering during prayers (a rare occurence).  I like to think that I know what I am about, that I have a way of making a meaningful act of worship without being obssessive about the material, of beauty without idolatry, of pragmatism with utility.  Or something like that.

    The two stories maybe express something of the tension I sense, as well as others. 

    The Ezra affirms the place of building something beautiful for God, it allows for luxurious cathedrals built at great financial and human cost.  The beautiful house of God, inspiring awe, has its place, so long as it does not become the object of adulation or the vehicle of oppression. 

    The Mark takes us in another direction, a confusing one that has less to do with the selling of animals and more to do with the purpose of the Temple.  In a bizarre conflation of religious legalism, we find a market set up in the only part of the Temple where foreigners are permitted to worship.  People needed animals, that was fine.  People possibly needed to change their money to a common currency.  People also came to pray.  I suppose the issue, really, was how the legalistic desire to avoid taint from the world actually became an obstacle to welcoming those who came from the world seeking God.  No dirty money.  Not just any old sheep or pigeon picked up in the street.  Only the best, the cleanest, the ritually correct, for God.  And this desire for purity failed, it became a barrier, a stumbling block.

    All of which makes me think.  What self-rightousness or attitude of mine leads to actions which deny others access to God?  If Jesus wandered in to my church one Sunday morning, how would he react?

     

    Let us build a house where love can dwell

    And all can safely live

    A place where saints and sinners tell

    How love learns to forigve

    Built of hopes and dreams and laughter

    Rock of truth and vault of grace

    Here the love of God shall end divisions

    All are welcome

    All are welcome

    All are welcome in this place... (1)

     

    All welcome, Lord?

    Everyone?

    The ones who don't understand the way I do?

    The ones who don't beleive what I believe?

    The ones I think are wrong?

    The ones whose life styles challenge my understanding of righteousness?

    All are welcome in this place...

     

    A stumbling block, Lord?

    Me?

    With my fear of offending anyone and loinging to be liked

    With my desire to agree to disagree and not try to change their minds

    With my delight in diversity and my commitment to creative tension

    With my sense that that this is all bigger and more than I can ever know or understand?

    All are welcome in this place...

     

    For just and unjust a place at the table

    Abuser, abused, with the need to forgive

    In anger, in hurt, a mindset of mercy

    For just and unjust, a new way of life

    And God will delight, when we are creators of justice and joy

    Yes, God will delight, when we are creators of justice, justice and joy... (2)

     

    So Lord, that's what you mean, then

    A stretching so wide it hurts?

    An embrace that looks like crucifision - arms flung wide, hands nailed in place

    The scourging

    The jibes

    The dying to live?

     

    All welcome...

    Academic, illeterate

    Vagrant, vain

    Well, unwell

    Sinner, saint

    Refugee, rebel, rioter

    Pimp, paedophile, prostitute

    Dealer, addict,

    Abuser, abused

    -phobe and -phile

    All welcome... and having a place at your table

    Your table

    In your house

     

    Lord, can it be so?

    May it be so...


    (1) Marty Haugen GIA Publications Inc.

    (2) Shirley Erena Murray (c) Hope Publishing Company

  • Not Sure

    Yesterday I went to see The Best Exotic Marigold Hotelabout which I have heard only extremely positive remarks.  So, either I have well and truly missed the point, or I am very old-fashioned or it is, as I deduced in places cringingly racist.  I don't find it funny to see racism portrayed in a c21 context, and I was thrown when the entire cinema audience (so far as I could tell) except me roared with laughter at the racist bits.  The story line wasn't exactly profound, and the few bits that did make me chuckle seemed lost on the rest of the audience.  So, there you go.  Either I'm a grumpy old woman or I missed the point or - just possibly - the film is not anywhere near as good as others think.

  • Lent Reflections (21)

    So, almost half way through Lent - how is it going for you?  Are your abstentions intact?  Are your undertakings being undertaken?  Do you feel as though you are drawing closer to Calvary?

    Today's readings:

    Psalm 84
    2 Chronicles 29:1-11, 16-19
    Hebrews 9:23-28

    The same lovely psalm as yesterday, an account of spring cleaning in the Temple and Jesus as the sin sacrifice once and for all.  It seems, thus far, that there may be a bit of a Temple theme running through this week, but as I don't read on, I won't know until the days unfold.

    Hezekiah, one of the 'good guys' orders that the Temple be cleaned, all the profane stuff removed, all the scared stuff cleaned, repaired and then, in due course, rededicated.  I suppose the question this raises has to be around the clutter that accumulates, literally and figuratively, in churches and in in lives, and how that which is 'sacred' or precious gets grubby, battered and neglected along the way.  There's a balance to be struck between worshipping our buildings and being poor stewards of what has been entrusted to us; a balance between pure functionality and over sacralisation.

    It is Sunday in Dibley, whoever is on 'unlocking duty' arrives, opens the steel cupboard and lifts down the table cloth, the cross, the Bible, the arrangement of artificial flowers.  The banners are carefully hung up on the climbing frame or the picture rail.  If it is Communion Sunday a lovingly crocheted cloth adorns the table, homemade bread is placed on the metal platter and the trays of glasses stand ready.  Chairs are arranged, people gather, a sacred space, if such language is desired, is created, fleetingly.

    And it is Sunday on the Gathering Place.  Whilst most still sleep, the chairs are hauled from the store cupboard and arranged.  The table is wheeled to its place and draped in colourful African cloth, a gift from a former member.   A silver chalice, from a former church plant, a brass lectern bearing a Bible, and a celtic cross form a visual focus; behind them hang simple drapes in liturgical colours.  For Communion Sunday a starched white cloth replaces the vibrancy of Africa, a large, round loaf sits on a silver plate, the chalic eis filled and trays of glasses wait to be shared.  People arrive, making scared this space, however fleetingly.

    For me, this is about as 'sacred spacey' as it gets, I'm not even vaguely sacramental.  The sacredness, whatever that is meant to mean, arises among the people who imbue their objects with meaning... the African cloth, the hand-made banners, the floral arrangement, the silver-plate chalice.... they are largely, maybe utterly, meaningless except in the communities in which they are used.  Yet, in each community, they are precious, cared for, repaired, cleaned, put away safely after use.

    This probably has nothing whatsoever to do with any of today's passages, but is prompted by pondering them.

     

    God of the Tabernacle

    God of the Temple

    Which, I wonder, did you prefer?

     

    God of all places

    God of this place

    What is it that makes ground holy?

     

    God of past times

    God of this time

    How can I best honour you?

     

    God of mystery

    God of majesty

    What do you require of me?

     

    God of Cathedral

    God of mission tent

    God of tin tabernacle

    God of Victorian chapel

    God of school hall

    God of church hall

     

    Show us what we should clear out

    Show us what we should retain

    Help us mend what is tattered

    Help is clean what is despoiled

    Above all

    Make us people in and amonst whom you are pleased to dwell.