Dave Faulkner. Musings of an evangelical Methodist minister.
Technorati Tags: writingfix, writing, plot, character
I don’t need to agree with all John Gray’s conclusions and values to recognise this as a powerful attack on the contemporary atheist and anti-religious brigade:
The atheist delusion | By genre | guardian.co.uk Books
Technorati Tags: atheism, JohnGray, RichardDawkins, ChristopherHitchens, SamHarris, DanielDennett, MichaelOnfray, MartinAmis
is the name of a Bible Society survey of attitudes to the Bible by leaders and non-leaders in the British church. The Executive Summary is available here. It covers the following topics:
1. The Bible in terms of society and churches;
2. The Bible and spiritual growth;
3. Bible resources;
4. Bible literacy and application.
Overall, church leaders are more positive about the Bible than non-leaders. The most sceptical leaders, though (generally Liberal, Catholic, Methodist and URC), are also those most dissatisfied with congregational understanding.
Blood and gore makes the Old Testament the biggest challenge to teaching the Bible, and more resources are needed here. The OT seems to be a greater concern for affecting faith than Richard Dawkins is.
There is a welcoming of multimedia approaches, but a scepticism about the reliability of Internet sources.
For more, click the link above.
Technorati Tags: BibleSociety, Bible, RichardDawkins
[NB: As with last
week, I have slightly expanded the selection of verses in the Lectionary. As will
become clear from my first point below, verse 4 is critical to understanding
verse 5.]
Introduction
One of our children’s favourite shows on CBeebies
is ‘Big Cook, Little
Cook’, in which two chefs – one normal size, one tiny enough to live on
kitchen work surfaces – run a café. In each episode, someone comes to the café
for a meal. They wonder what to cook. They need a story to guide them, so they
get out a book. It is called, ‘Little Cook’s Adventures in the Big World.’
I suggest to you that we too need a story to guide us. But ours
is called, ‘Jesus’ Adventures in the Big World’ (or the Bible if you want to be
pedantic!). And here in John 4, Jesus is having one of his adventures in the big
world. He spends most of his time in the world, not the synagogue, going to
people and not waiting for them to come to him. And here he’s very definitely
in the big world. We’ll use some features of this adventure to plot what Jesus
is up to, and how we might respond.
1. Crossing
Boundaries
Here’s how Jesus arrives:
But he had to go through Samaria. So he came to a Samaritan
city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son
Joseph. (Verses 4-5)
Did he have to go through Samaria? Jesus is travelling back from
Judea to Galilee. He chooses the most direct route, which would take three days
on foot. However, Jews preferred to avoid Samaria. This meant a detour that
doubled the time to six days.[1]
But Jesus doesn’t intend to avoid the Samaritans. Nor will he
avoid a woman, let alone one whose reputation means she comes to draw water at
the hottest time of day, avoiding the other women of the village.
So let me advocate the idea that we too are called to cross
boundaries in our journey through the big world. We may want to take long
detours to avoid people of dubious reputation, but we break the heart of Jesus
when we do so. Too often, we in the Church have been known as holier-than-thou,
self-righteous types, who look down with disapproval on those whose lifestyles
don’t match our moral standards. I would not say for one moment that we should
dilute our ethical convictions, but when they have become something that makes
us avoid other people for fear of contamination, then we have lost something
vital from the Gospel.
Equally, if we always expect others to come to us, we have
lost a vital dimension. The Gospel is not about ‘How can we get them to come
here?’ It is about how we find ways to cross boundaries and share God’s love
with people who are different from us.
Who are the people we would like to avoid? They may be
specific individuals, or certain groups or classes of people. If we would cross
the road to avoid them, might we hear the voice of Jesus saying, that’s not how
I travelled on my journey?
2. Drawing Water from
a Well
So Jesus meets the woman in the heat of the day at Jacob’s Well, when nobody
else is there. You would think that as a traveller he would have a skin bucket
with him, in order to obtain water. But he hasn’t. In crossing multiple
boundaries and asking the woman for water, he sets up a conversation that goes
way beyond what she expects. It’s not the first time in John’s Gospel that
Jesus says something in a conversation that the other person takes literally,
when Jesus has a deeper meaning. It’s happened in chapter three with Nicodemus
and being ‘born again.’ Now it happens here, with ‘living water.’
The woman doesn’t get it. She’d like living water. Then she
wouldn’t have to come here in the heat of the day, every day, avoiding the gossiping
eyes of the village.
We don’t get it, either. ‘Living water’ is a pun. It’s ‘running
water.’ The woman is after an uninterruptible supply of water, much as we have
from our taps. Then she can avoid the shame of coming alone at lunchtime to
Jacob’s Well. Her concern is to deal with her shame.
Jesus, led by the Spirit, knows this. He can cleanse her of
her shame. ‘Go, call your husband, and come back,’ he says (verse 16). She replies
that she has no husband, and Jesus says that is true: she has been married five
times, and the man she is with now is not her husband (verses 17-18).
Jewish culture allowed a person a maximum of three marriages
in their lifetime[2]. Is
she a woman of lax morality? I certainly used to think so. Then I learned that
only the men could institute divorce proceedings.[3]
They could do so for the most trivial of reasons. It seems likely, then, that
this woman, who has married five times and is now cohabiting, is someone who
has been treated like dirt by men since her early teens when she was first
betrothed.
Jesus doesn’t condemn her or call her to repentance. He doesn’t
even warn her to sin no more, as he does to the woman caught in adultery. He has
the holiness not to overlook her chaotic and broken lifestyle, but he also has
the compassion not to condemn her.
We have a similar call. One of the things people dislike
most about Christians is the self-righteous stuff. We can do a good impression
of a Pharisee. So when we cross boundaries, we have another task. To help
people find the living water of God, in which Jesus supplies total satisfaction
for life, our boundary crossing has to be done with grace. We are not merely
crossing boundaries in order to launch sorties against enemies. Nor are we
doing so to tell people that sin doesn’t matter. We cross boundaries so that
people may know the healing love of God in Christ. Is that our aim? Are our
hearts aligned with such an aim?
3. Two Mountains
‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet,’ responds the woman. She then launches into
a question about the location of true worship. Should she worship on Mount
Gerizim, according to her Samaritan tradition, or in Jerusalem, according to
Jewish teaching (verses 19-20)?
What do we make of this question? I used to think the woman
was employing a diversionary tactic. Jesus has got too close to home with
knowing about her pattern of broken relationships, and now she tries a
theological controversy to move him off this painful subject.
I no longer think she was doing that. If she were, then
wouldn’t Jesus have steered her back to a conversation about sin and
repentance? But he doesn’t. He takes up her question, and says that both
alternatives are inadequate. Salvation comes from the Jews, he says, but
location isn’t the issue any more: since God is spirit, true worship is in
spirit and in truth (verses 21-24). In the coming decades, armies would destroy
the precious locations for worship: the Jewish Temple in AD 70 by Rome and the
Samaritan temple by some Jewish forces in AD 138[4].
However, by saying that true worship of God is in spirit and
in truth is a way of Jesus saying to the woman, the door is open to all. You don’t
have to travel to a holy place. Distance, geography or race cannot limit you. The
barriers are down. Heaven is breaking in here, there and everywhere. Respond,
says Jesus!
And the woman wants to. She doesn’t understand, and longs
for the promised Messiah who will explain all things (verse 25) – only to find
she is in the middle of an audience with him (verse 26). If the ‘spirit’ aspect
of God’s character means we can worship anywhere, the ‘truth’ is its focus on
Jesus the Christ. Worshipping anywhere does not mean worshipping anyhow or
anyone. Always the goal is Jesus.
We see that when the woman disappears, back to the village. ‘Come
and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the
Messiah, can he?’ she says (verse 29). She doesn’t have it all sewn up, and
neither need we. We cannot delay answering the call to go on the journey of
mission, because we don’t have everything sorted in our minds. All we need is
to have had an encounter with Jesus. That is enough. It is enough for worship,
and it is enough for mission. Neither worship nor mission is to be reduced to a
speciality for the enthusiasts. Rather, Jesus may encounter us anywhere, and
the appropriate response is twofold: worship and mission.
4. Food for the
Journey
The disciples come back from their trip. All they can think about is food. However,
Jesus already has food – not a secret stash or sandwiches, but the satisfaction
of doing his Father’s will by being on his mission (verses 31-34). In fact,
Jesus is so committed to the Father’s mission that ordinary time lapses between
sowing and harvest are shortened (verses 35-38).
It’s a question of what ultimately satisfies a person. The disciples,
obsessed with food, have their eyes no higher than any other ordinary mortal
does. There are many examples today. People believe sex, more money, a new car,
the latest gadget, another pair of shoes, a worthwhile relationship or some
product that the advertisers tell us we deserve, will satisfy their lives. We
Christians, like the disciples of Jesus, are just as easily caught up in these
things. ‘If I can just have this thing, I will be happy.’ However, it is as illusory
as chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We even do it in a
churchy, ‘spiritual’ way: if I read this book, go to this conference, or if we
implement this strategy for church life, then everything will feel good. No, it
won’t. When we think like that, we are the biggest fools of all.
Jesus gives food that is satisfying, just as he gives living
water. You could relate this to his wilderness temptations, where he said that
we do not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds from the mouth
of God. Here he is, living on the word the Father has given him by willingly
participating in his mission. This sustains him.
There is nothing like it for us, too. Here’s how it plays
out for me. I’ve never seen myself as an evangelist. My calling has always been
more to the church – to teach the faith and to help people discover God’s
vision. However, despite that, I can find Christians the most frustrating of
all people! (Maybe that’s how you view ministers!) I find it refreshing to help
my wife develop friendships with people in the community. Someone in a
difficult marriage; another person whose daughter is struggling; others facing
major cultural adjustments or living in a chaotic way. I can’t give away
confidences, but every now and then, Gospel opportunities arise, because we’ve
been willing to cross the boundaries, point to the living water and expect to
find Jesus everywhere. When we do, there is something profoundly satisfying about
it.
As I say, it doesn’t always come naturally to me. Too often,
I have been the kind of Christian who would adopt judgmental attitudes against
non-Christians. However, in recent years, God has been teaching me about the
importance of crossing boundaries instead of self-righteously expecting people
to make all the running in my direction. He has been showing me the need to do
this with grace, and that he will go ahead of me, because he is everywhere to
be worshipped. When we walk in his ways, following the example of Jesus, there
is a satisfaction in our souls that no gimmick, no gadget, no possession and no
technique can provide.
Isn’t it time to follow Jesus?
[1] I
am indebted to Richard
Burridge’s fine commentary
on John in the People’s
Bible Commentary series, p 66, for this insight. I am currently reviewing
this book for Ministry Today.
[2]
Burridge, p 69.
[3]
Roman law was different, and allowed women to divorce men.
[4]
Burridge, p 70.
Technorati Tags: CBeebies, BigCookLittleCook, Jesus, missional, RichardBurridge
[NB: As with last
week, I have slightly expanded the selection of verses in the Lectionary. As will
become clear from my first point below, verse 4 is critical to understanding
verse 5.]
Introduction
One of our children’s favourite shows on CBeebies
is ‘Big Cook, Little
Cook’, in which two chefs – one normal size, one tiny enough to live on
kitchen work surfaces – run a café. In each episode, someone comes to the café
for a meal. They wonder what to cook. They need a story to guide them, so they
get out a book. It is called, ‘Little Cook’s Adventures in the Big World.’
I suggest to you that we too need a story to guide us. But ours
is called, ‘Jesus’ Adventures in the Big World’ (or the Bible if you want to be
pedantic!). And here in John 4, Jesus is having one of his adventures in the big
world. He spends most of his time in the world, not the synagogue, going to
people and not waiting for them to come to him. And here he’s very definitely
in the big world. We’ll use some features of this adventure to plot what Jesus
is up to, and how we might respond.
1. Crossing
Boundaries
Here’s how Jesus arrives:
But he had to go through Samaria. So he came to a Samaritan
city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son
Joseph. (Verses 4-5)
Did he have to go through Samaria? Jesus is travelling back from
Judea to Galilee. He chooses the most direct route, which would take three days
on foot. However, Jews preferred to avoid Samaria. This meant a detour that
doubled the time to six days.[1]
But Jesus doesn’t intend to avoid the Samaritans. Nor will he
avoid a woman, let alone one whose reputation means she comes to draw water at
the hottest time of day, avoiding the other women of the village.
So let me advocate the idea that we too are called to cross
boundaries in our journey through the big world. We may want to take long
detours to avoid people of dubious reputation, but we break the heart of Jesus
when we do so. Too often, we in the Church have been known as holier-than-thou,
self-righteous types, who look down with disapproval on those whose lifestyles
don’t match our moral standards. I would not say for one moment that we should
dilute our ethical convictions, but when they have become something that makes
us avoid other people for fear of contamination, then we have lost something
vital from the Gospel.
Equally, if we always expect others to come to us, we have
lost a vital dimension. The Gospel is not about ‘How can we get them to come
here?’ It is about how we find ways to cross boundaries and share God’s love
with people who are different from us.
Who are the people we would like to avoid? They may be
specific individuals, or certain groups or classes of people. If we would cross
the road to avoid them, might we hear the voice of Jesus saying, that’s not how
I travelled on my journey?
2. Drawing Water from
a Well
So Jesus meets the woman in the heat of the day at Jacob’s Well, when nobody
else is there. You would think that as a traveller he would have a skin bucket
with him, in order to obtain water. But he hasn’t. In crossing multiple
boundaries and asking the woman for water, he sets up a conversation that goes
way beyond what she expects. It’s not the first time in John’s Gospel that
Jesus says something in a conversation that the other person takes literally,
when Jesus has a deeper meaning. It’s happened in chapter three with Nicodemus
and being ‘born again.’ Now it happens here, with ‘living water.’
The woman doesn’t get it. She’d like living water. Then she
wouldn’t have to come here in the heat of the day, every day, avoiding the gossiping
eyes of the village.
We don’t get it, either. ‘Living water’ is a pun. It’s ‘running
water.’ The woman is after an uninterruptible supply of water, much as we have
from our taps. Then she can avoid the shame of coming alone at lunchtime to
Jacob’s Well. Her concern is to deal with her shame.
Jesus, led by the Spirit, knows this. He can cleanse her of
her shame. ‘Go, call your husband, and come back,’ he says (verse 16). She replies
that she has no husband, and Jesus says that is true: she has been married five
times, and the man she is with now is not her husband (verses 17-18).
Jewish culture allowed a person a maximum of three marriages
in their lifetime[2]. Is
she a woman of lax morality? I certainly used to think so. Then I learned that
only the men could institute divorce proceedings.[3]
They could do so for the most trivial of reasons. It seems likely, then, that
this woman, who has married five times and is now cohabiting, is someone who
has been treated like dirt by men since her early teens when she was first
betrothed.
Jesus doesn’t condemn her or call her to repentance. He doesn’t
even warn her to sin no more, as he does to the woman caught in adultery. He has
the holiness not to overlook her chaotic and broken lifestyle, but he also has
the compassion not to condemn her.
We have a similar call. One of the things people dislike
most about Christians is the self-righteous stuff. We can do a good impression
of a Pharisee. So when we cross boundaries, we have another task. To help
people find the living water of God, in which Jesus supplies total satisfaction
for life, our boundary crossing has to be done with grace. We are not merely
crossing boundaries in order to launch sorties against enemies. Nor are we
doing so to tell people that sin doesn’t matter. We cross boundaries so that
people may know the healing love of God in Christ. Is that our aim? Are our
hearts aligned with such an aim?
3. Two Mountains
‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet,’ responds the woman. She then launches into
a question about the location of true worship. Should she worship on Mount
Gerizim, according to her Samaritan tradition, or in Jerusalem, according to
Jewish teaching (verses 19-20)?
What do we make of this question? I used to think the woman
was employing a diversionary tactic. Jesus has got too close to home with
knowing about her pattern of broken relationships, and now she tries a
theological controversy to move him off this painful subject.
I no longer think she was doing that. If she were, then
wouldn’t Jesus have steered her back to a conversation about sin and
repentance? But he doesn’t. He takes up her question, and says that both
alternatives are inadequate. Salvation comes from the Jews, he says, but
location isn’t the issue any more: since God is spirit, true worship is in
spirit and in truth (verses 21-24). In the coming decades, armies would destroy
the precious locations for worship: the Jewish Temple in AD 70 by Rome and the
Samaritan temple by some Jewish forces in AD 138[4].
However, by saying that true worship of God is in spirit and
in truth is a way of Jesus saying to the woman, the door is open to all. You don’t
have to travel to a holy place. Distance, geography or race cannot limit you. The
barriers are down. Heaven is breaking in here, there and everywhere. Respond,
says Jesus!
And the woman wants to. She doesn’t understand, and longs
for the promised Messiah who will explain all things (verse 25) – only to find
she is in the middle of an audience with him (verse 26). If the ‘spirit’ aspect
of God’s character means we can worship anywhere, the ‘truth’ is its focus on
Jesus the Christ. Worshipping anywhere does not mean worshipping anyhow or
anyone. Always the goal is Jesus.
We see that when the woman disappears, back to the village. ‘Come
and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the
Messiah, can he?’ she says (verse 29). She doesn’t have it all sewn up, and
neither need we. We cannot delay answering the call to go on the journey of
mission, because we don’t have everything sorted in our minds. All we need is
to have had an encounter with Jesus. That is enough. It is enough for worship,
and it is enough for mission. Neither worship nor mission is to be reduced to a
speciality for the enthusiasts. Rather, Jesus may encounter us anywhere, and
the appropriate response is twofold: worship and mission.
4. Food for the
Journey
The disciples come back from their trip. All they can think about is food. However,
Jesus already has food – not a secret stash or sandwiches, but the satisfaction
of doing his Father’s will by being on his mission (verses 31-34). In fact,
Jesus is so committed to the Father’s mission that ordinary time lapses between
sowing and harvest are shortened (verses 35-38).
It’s a question of what ultimately satisfies a person. The disciples,
obsessed with food, have their eyes no higher than any other ordinary mortal
does. There are many examples today. People believe sex, more money, a new car,
the latest gadget, another pair of shoes, a worthwhile relationship or some
product that the advertisers tell us we deserve, will satisfy their lives. We
Christians, like the disciples of Jesus, are just as easily caught up in these
things. ‘If I can just have this thing, I will be happy.’ However, it is as illusory
as chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We even do it in a
churchy, ‘spiritual’ way: if I read this book, go to this conference, or if we
implement this strategy for church life, then everything will feel good. No, it
won’t. When we think like that, we are the biggest fools of all.
Jesus gives food that is satisfying, just as he gives living
water. You could relate this to his wilderness temptations, where he said that
we do not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds from the mouth
of God. Here he is, living on the word the Father has given him by willingly
participating in his mission. This sustains him.
There is nothing like it for us, too. Here’s how it plays
out for me. I’ve never seen myself as an evangelist. My calling has always been
more to the church – to teach the faith and to help people discover God’s
vision. However, despite that, I can find Christians the most frustrating of
all people! (Maybe that’s how you view ministers!) I find it refreshing to help
my wife develop friendships with people in the community. Someone in a
difficult marriage; another person whose daughter is struggling; others facing
major cultural adjustments or living in a chaotic way. I can’t give away
confidences, but every now and then, Gospel opportunities arise, because we’ve
been willing to cross the boundaries, point to the living water and expect to
find Jesus everywhere. When we do, there is something profoundly satisfying about
it.
As I say, it doesn’t always come naturally to me. Too often,
I have been the kind of Christian who would adopt judgmental attitudes against
non-Christians. However, in recent years, God has been teaching me about the
importance of crossing boundaries instead of self-righteously expecting people
to make all the running in my direction. He has been showing me the need to do
this with grace, and that he will go ahead of me, because he is everywhere to
be worshipped. When we walk in his ways, following the example of Jesus, there
is a satisfaction in our souls that no gimmick, no gadget, no possession and no
technique can provide.
Isn’t it time to follow Jesus?
[1] I
am indebted to Richard
Burridge’s fine commentary
on John in the People’s
Bible Commentary series, p 66, for this insight. I am currently reviewing
this book for Ministry Today.
[2]
Burridge, p 69.
[3]
Roman law was different, and allowed women to divorce men.
[4]
Burridge, p 70.
Technorati Tags: CBeebies, BigCookLittleCook, Jesus, missional, RichardBurridge
[NB: As with last
week, I have slightly expanded the selection of verses in the Lectionary. As will
become clear from my first point below, verse 4 is critical to understanding
verse 5.]
Introduction
One of our children’s favourite shows on CBeebies
is ‘Big Cook, Little
Cook’, in which two chefs – one normal size, one tiny enough to live on
kitchen work surfaces – run a café. In each episode, someone comes to the café
for a meal. They wonder what to cook. They need a story to guide them, so they
get out a book. It is called, ‘Little Cook’s Adventures in the Big World.’
I suggest to you that we too need a story to guide us. But ours
is called, ‘Jesus’ Adventures in the Big World’ (or the Bible if you want to be
pedantic!). And here in John 4, Jesus is having one of his adventures in the big
world. He spends most of his time in the world, not the synagogue, going to
people and not waiting for them to come to him. And here he’s very definitely
in the big world. We’ll use some features of this adventure to plot what Jesus
is up to, and how we might respond.
1. Crossing
Boundaries
Here’s how Jesus arrives:
But he had to go through Samaria. So he came to a Samaritan
city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son
Joseph. (Verses 4-5)
Did he have to go through Samaria? Jesus is travelling back from
Judea to Galilee. He chooses the most direct route, which would take three days
on foot. However, Jews preferred to avoid Samaria. This meant a detour that
doubled the time to six days.[1]
But Jesus doesn’t intend to avoid the Samaritans. Nor will he
avoid a woman, let alone one whose reputation means she comes to draw water at
the hottest time of day, avoiding the other women of the village.
So let me advocate the idea that we too are called to cross
boundaries in our journey through the big world. We may want to take long
detours to avoid people of dubious reputation, but we break the heart of Jesus
when we do so. Too often, we in the Church have been known as holier-than-thou,
self-righteous types, who look down with disapproval on those whose lifestyles
don’t match our moral standards. I would not say for one moment that we should
dilute our ethical convictions, but when they have become something that makes
us avoid other people for fear of contamination, then we have lost something
vital from the Gospel.
Equally, if we always expect others to come to us, we have
lost a vital dimension. The Gospel is not about ‘How can we get them to come
here?’ It is about how we find ways to cross boundaries and share God’s love
with people who are different from us.
Who are the people we would like to avoid? They may be
specific individuals, or certain groups or classes of people. If we would cross
the road to avoid them, might we hear the voice of Jesus saying, that’s not how
I travelled on my journey?
2. Drawing Water from
a Well
So Jesus meets the woman in the heat of the day at Jacob’s Well, when nobody
else is there. You would think that as a traveller he would have a skin bucket
with him, in order to obtain water. But he hasn’t. In crossing multiple
boundaries and asking the woman for water, he sets up a conversation that goes
way beyond what she expects. It’s not the first time in John’s Gospel that
Jesus says something in a conversation that the other person takes literally,
when Jesus has a deeper meaning. It’s happened in chapter three with Nicodemus
and being ‘born again.’ Now it happens here, with ‘living water.’
The woman doesn’t get it. She’d like living water. Then she
wouldn’t have to come here in the heat of the day, every day, avoiding the gossiping
eyes of the village.
We don’t get it, either. ‘Living water’ is a pun. It’s ‘running
water.’ The woman is after an uninterruptible supply of water, much as we have
from our taps. Then she can avoid the shame of coming alone at lunchtime to
Jacob’s Well. Her concern is to deal with her shame.
Jesus, led by the Spirit, knows this. He can cleanse her of
her shame. ‘Go, call your husband, and come back,’ he says (verse 16). She replies
that she has no husband, and Jesus says that is true: she has been married five
times, and the man she is with now is not her husband (verses 17-18).
Jewish culture allowed a person a maximum of three marriages
in their lifetime[2]. Is
she a woman of lax morality? I certainly used to think so. Then I learned that
only the men could institute divorce proceedings.[3]
They could do so for the most trivial of reasons. It seems likely, then, that
this woman, who has married five times and is now cohabiting, is someone who
has been treated like dirt by men since her early teens when she was first
betrothed.
Jesus doesn’t condemn her or call her to repentance. He doesn’t
even warn her to sin no more, as he does to the woman caught in adultery. He has
the holiness not to overlook her chaotic and broken lifestyle, but he also has
the compassion not to condemn her.
We have a similar call. One of the things people dislike
most about Christians is the self-righteous stuff. We can do a good impression
of a Pharisee. So when we cross boundaries, we have another task. To help
people find the living water of God, in which Jesus supplies total satisfaction
for life, our boundary crossing has to be done with grace. We are not merely
crossing boundaries in order to launch sorties against enemies. Nor are we
doing so to tell people that sin doesn’t matter. We cross boundaries so that
people may know the healing love of God in Christ. Is that our aim? Are our
hearts aligned with such an aim?
3. Two Mountains
‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet,’ responds the woman. She then launches into
a question about the location of true worship. Should she worship on Mount
Gerizim, according to her Samaritan tradition, or in Jerusalem, according to
Jewish teaching (verses 19-20)?
What do we make of this question? I used to think the woman
was employing a diversionary tactic. Jesus has got too close to home with
knowing about her pattern of broken relationships, and now she tries a
theological controversy to move him off this painful subject.
I no longer think she was doing that. If she were, then
wouldn’t Jesus have steered her back to a conversation about sin and
repentance? But he doesn’t. He takes up her question, and says that both
alternatives are inadequate. Salvation comes from the Jews, he says, but
location isn’t the issue any more: since God is spirit, true worship is in
spirit and in truth (verses 21-24). In the coming decades, armies would destroy
the precious locations for worship: the Jewish Temple in AD 70 by Rome and the
Samaritan temple by some Jewish forces in AD 138[4].
However, by saying that true worship of God is in spirit and
in truth is a way of Jesus saying to the woman, the door is open to all. You don’t
have to travel to a holy place. Distance, geography or race cannot limit you. The
barriers are down. Heaven is breaking in here, there and everywhere. Respond,
says Jesus!
And the woman wants to. She doesn’t understand, and longs
for the promised Messiah who will explain all things (verse 25) – only to find
she is in the middle of an audience with him (verse 26). If the ‘spirit’ aspect
of God’s character means we can worship anywhere, the ‘truth’ is its focus on
Jesus the Christ. Worshipping anywhere does not mean worshipping anyhow or
anyone. Always the goal is Jesus.
We see that when the woman disappears, back to the village. ‘Come
and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the
Messiah, can he?’ she says (verse 29). She doesn’t have it all sewn up, and
neither need we. We cannot delay answering the call to go on the journey of
mission, because we don’t have everything sorted in our minds. All we need is
to have had an encounter with Jesus. That is enough. It is enough for worship,
and it is enough for mission. Neither worship nor mission is to be reduced to a
speciality for the enthusiasts. Rather, Jesus may encounter us anywhere, and
the appropriate response is twofold: worship and mission.
4. Food for the
Journey
The disciples come back from their trip. All they can think about is food. However,
Jesus already has food – not a secret stash or sandwiches, but the satisfaction
of doing his Father’s will by being on his mission (verses 31-34). In fact,
Jesus is so committed to the Father’s mission that ordinary time lapses between
sowing and harvest are shortened (verses 35-38).
It’s a question of what ultimately satisfies a person. The disciples,
obsessed with food, have their eyes no higher than any other ordinary mortal
does. There are many examples today. People believe sex, more money, a new car,
the latest gadget, another pair of shoes, a worthwhile relationship or some
product that the advertisers tell us we deserve, will satisfy their lives. We
Christians, like the disciples of Jesus, are just as easily caught up in these
things. ‘If I can just have this thing, I will be happy.’ However, it is as illusory
as chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We even do it in a
churchy, ‘spiritual’ way: if I read this book, go to this conference, or if we
implement this strategy for church life, then everything will feel good. No, it
won’t. When we think like that, we are the biggest fools of all.
Jesus gives food that is satisfying, just as he gives living
water. You could relate this to his wilderness temptations, where he said that
we do not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds from the mouth
of God. Here he is, living on the word the Father has given him by willingly
participating in his mission. This sustains him.
There is nothing like it for us, too. Here’s how it plays
out for me. I’ve never seen myself as an evangelist. My calling has always been
more to the church – to teach the faith and to help people discover God’s
vision. However, despite that, I can find Christians the most frustrating of
all people! (Maybe that’s how you view ministers!) I find it refreshing to help
my wife develop friendships with people in the community. Someone in a
difficult marriage; another person whose daughter is struggling; others facing
major cultural adjustments or living in a chaotic way. I can’t give away
confidences, but every now and then, Gospel opportunities arise, because we’ve
been willing to cross the boundaries, point to the living water and expect to
find Jesus everywhere. When we do, there is something profoundly satisfying about
it.
As I say, it doesn’t always come naturally to me. Too often,
I have been the kind of Christian who would adopt judgmental attitudes against
non-Christians. However, in recent years, God has been teaching me about the
importance of crossing boundaries instead of self-righteously expecting people
to make all the running in my direction. He has been showing me the need to do
this with grace, and that he will go ahead of me, because he is everywhere to
be worshipped. When we walk in his ways, following the example of Jesus, there
is a satisfaction in our souls that no gimmick, no gadget, no possession and no
technique can provide.
Isn’t it time to follow Jesus?
[1] I
am indebted to Richard
Burridge’s fine commentary
on John in the People’s
Bible Commentary series, p 66, for this insight. I am currently reviewing
this book for Ministry Today.
[2]
Burridge, p 69.
[3]
Roman law was different, and allowed women to divorce men.
[4]
Burridge, p 70.
Technorati Tags: CBeebies, BigCookLittleCook, Jesus, missional, RichardBurridge
Introduction
According to OFSTED, the standard of
Geography in our schools is in decline.
This week’s Essex Chronicle interviewed
local people about this. Less than a quarter knew that the largest ocean in
the world is the Pacific. One third didn’t know that Everest was the highest
mountain on earth, and half didn’t know that the mountain range in which
Everest is situated is the Himalayas.
All of which brings us to the Mount of Transfiguration. Nine
of Jesus’ apostles didn’t make it to the Mount of Transfiguration. Only three
did. That tells you this incident was special, just as the same three
accompanied Jesus in Gethsemane.
And the fact that the incident happens on a mountain also
tells us this is important. Whenever Jesus climbs a mountain in Matthew’s
Gospel, it is a sign to pay particular attention. The words or deeds that
follow will be significant.
So it’s no surprise that when the voice from heaven speaks
here, it ends with the words, ‘listen to him’ (verse 5). You always encounter
the authority of Jesus on mountains in Matthew – from the Sermon on the Mount
(chapters 5-7), to mountain after the Resurrection where he gives the Great
Commission (28:16-20).
Peter and the others certainly need to be reminded about the
authority of Jesus here. Sometimes we do, too. We slip, we compromise and we
dilute our allegiance to Jesus. Peter also needed encouragement for the
difficult task of obeying Jesus. I suggest we do, too. All these things – the challenges
and the encouragement – we find on the Mount of Transfiguration.
1. Heroes
Peter’s first mistake is this. When Elijah and Moses appear, he equates Jesus
with them. He needs to hear that it is Jesus to whom he should listen. He needs
to look up with his friends at the end of the experience and only see Jesus. I
think he’s gone in for a spot of hero worship.
The Christian Church has been altogether too good at
creating personality cults, where we elevate people to a status close to that
of Christ. It isn’t just the Catholic veneration of Mary or loyalty to the
Pope. Protestants are just as good at this trick. Some Christians hang on every
word of church leaders they admire. Listen to members of some congregations
talk about how good life was when so-and-so was the minister, and you’re
dangerously close to a personality cult where people depend on a talented
leader, instead of trusting in Christ.
Is it possible that we do something similar? Here is an
example.
For all the modern hymns and worship songs I pick for
services, it may surprise you to know that I love Charles Wesley’s writing. I
have a problem with some of the tunes allocated to them: I sometimes wonder
whether the compilers of Hymns and Psalms had done a sponsorship deal with the
manufacturers of Prozac. There seems no other explanation for the preponderance
of dull tunes in the book.
However, I have a problem sometimes with people who defend
Wesley’s hymns against other developments in worship. I encountered this in my
first circuit. Some people were quite virulent about my expansion of the
worship repertoire. When pressed to defend the Wesley hymns, it was on the
grounds of superior poetry and musicality. I don’t deny these are important,
but they never mentioned the doctrines Wesley wrote about – doctrines he had
experienced. None of his staunch defenders alluded to sharing in his spiritual
experience.
If only they had, I think they might have behaved
differently. They made Wesley into a kind of hero that he would have abhorred.
They applauded the style of his faith, but not the substance. They were the
least likely to be sharing their faith with others and pursuing holiness of
life.
No – Charles Wesley, and I am sure, John, too – would have
been horrified by the Wesleyolatry that has plagued parts of the Methodist
tradition since their death. They would have been far more likely to urge us in
the way Paul pleaded with some of those to whom he wrote, ‘Follow me as I
follow Christ.’
That is the message of the Transfiguration, too. ‘Listen to
him.’ Jesus is transfigured, not
Moses or Elijah. It isn’t that we should discard Moses or Elijah. But disciples
should follow them in their pointing to Christ.
Who have we made our hero alongside Christ, or maybe even
instead of him? The voice from heaven tells us to get our priorities straight:
‘Listen to him.’
2. Museums
One area of continuity when we moved here in 2005 was to find ourselves living
on the Dickens Estate. You will know that the roads on our estate are named
after Dickens characters and places: Copperfield, Nickleby, Quilp, Barnaby
Rudge, Flintwich Manor and so on.
The continuity was in having come from an area, the Medway
Towns, which had strong links with Charles Dickens himself. Dickens lived in
the Rochester area for some of his life. Every year, the council there makes
some money out of this – sorry, celebrates this – in two ways. There is a
Dickensian Christmas weekend to get you shopping in the area. In addition,
there is a Dickens
Festival in June. Not only that, a large area of the former Chatham
Dockyard (now known as Chatham Maritime) has been given over to Dickens World, which is a museum and
theme park based on the man, his life and literature. They’ll fleece you for
£12.50 before letting you in through the turnstiles.
Could it be that in his confusion and fear Peter tries to
commemorate the Transfiguration with his own little museum or theme park? He
blurts out a half-witted idea to make three dwellings – one for Jesus, one for
Moses and one for Elijah. I’m not suggesting he wanted to exploit it
commercially in the way the memory of Charles Dickens is in Kent. But he wants
to put up buildings to mark the spot and celebrate this little bit of history.
Is there anything wrong with that? Why does the voice from
heaven interrupt him while he is jabbering on? Come back to the Dickens
Festival in Rochester for a story, because I think it might be a way into the
dilemma.
For all his flaws, you can be sure of one admirable quality
about Charles Dickens: he cared about the poor. His novels campaigned against
the social injustices of his day. If you were going to celebrate Dickens,
wouldn’t it be appropriate to do so by helping the poor, rather than bowing down
at the temple of consumerism?
Well, at the Dickens Festival, many people would dress up in
the costume of the day, perhaps pretending to be a particular character. In our
last year there, I watched costumed visitors walk past Big Issue sellers,
pretending they weren’t there, and with little appreciation of the sick irony
that they who were celebrating Dickens did not share his care for the poor.
Now do you see the problem? The commemoration and
celebration of the Transfiguration that the Father’s voice from heaven calls
for is to ‘listen to him’. Yet we can turn church into a museum, and I don’t
simply mean when a church closes and the circuit sells the premises. Many of
our congregations are living, flesh and blood museums. We can preserve things
how they were. We can go through the motions. We can honour the traditions of
our ancestors. However, if all we have is the style without the substance, then
we’ve tried to build three dwellings, like Peter.
So – if we really are steeped in the Methodist tradition of
Christianity – do we truly believe that every single person needs salvation in
Christ? Do we believe it’s possible for anyone to find the love of God in
Christ? Do we believe it’s the birthright of all disciples to have such peace
in our hearts that we know we belong to Christ, and that it isn’t arrogant to
claim this? Are we optimistic about how much more the Holy Spirit can change us
into the likeness of Christ? If we do believe these things – if we will let the
Spirit of God ignite such faith in our hearts – then our churches will not be
museums.
3. Dazzle
It’s not only the appearance of the long-dead Moses and Elijah that turns Peter
and his friends into three lumps of jelly, it’s what happens to Jesus himself –
the very act of transfiguration. His face shines like the sun and his clothes
become dazzling white. Here we have special effects to make both Hollywood
movie directors and washing powder manufacturers jealous.
And there are certain parts of the Christian church that go
in for the razzle-dazzle and the glamour. Certain TV evangelists even dress
entirely in white suits. It goes with the image, along with the private jet,
the luxury home and the security guards – just like Jesus, don’t you think?
The question arises, why does Jesus go through this
experience? In addition, why does the voice from heaven speak, not only with
the words ‘Listen to him’ that we have already discussed, but also with
repetition of words from his baptism – ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I
am well pleased’ (verse 5)? Should I order my Mercedes now?
Yes. Er – only kidding. In fact, the Transfiguration is
linked profoundly with the suffering
of Jesus. It comes after Jesus has revealed his identity as Messiah at Caesarea
Philippi, prophesied his suffering and warned his disciples that anyone who
follows him must embrace rejection, suffering and even perhaps death. The
Transfiguration is not an escape from that destiny. It is God’s affirmation of
his Son’s obedience.
What will sustain Jesus as he resolutely travels to
Jerusalem and the Cross? It is knowing that he is the Son of God, and that the
Father loves him. ‘This is my Son, the Beloved’, says the voice. Accompany that
with such an encounter with the Father that his face shines and his clothes
dazzle, and you get some sense that God the Father affirms and encourages Jesus
by deed and word here. Has Jesus forgotten who he is? Does he need reminding of
the Father’s love? No. However, an underlining gives him strength and
encouragement.
If Jesus needed that, then how much more do we? He is Son of
God in a unique way. We are sons and daughters of God by adoption. We are not
divine. However, what is the effect of hearing that voice, affirming that we
are the Father’s children? What does it do for us to know that the Father loves
us? Is it not the foundation we need to live the daring and sacrificial life of
faith?
I only remember one sermon from the weekly communion
services at college during my three years in Bristol. The preacher was Tom Smail.
He preached on the baptism of Jesus, and picked out those similar words: ‘This
is my Son, the Beloved’. He used these words to remind us how God saw us – as
beloved children. I have never forgotten this. When I waver, I go back to this
truth.
Likewise, I remember one main insight from my Ethics tutor.
We were talking about vocation. He described how the traditional Catholic view
had been to confine vocation to the priesthood, the monastery or the nunnery.
The Reformation expanded it to include ‘ordinary’ jobs. But that wasn’t radical
enough, he said. Our most fundamental vocation is not to do, but to be – to be
children of God.
When you know you are a child of God, and when you know the
Father loves you, you have inner resources that are the strongest of
foundations when the storms of life come. The life of faith will bring
challenges aplenty. We can walk into them, knowing the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ loves us for eternity. We can ‘listen to him’, and set out on the
challenges of discipleship.
Technorati Tags: OFSTED, Geography, mountains, transfiguration, CharlesWesley, CharlesDickens, DickensFestival, DickensWorld, ChathamMaritime, suffering, vocation
Introduction
According to OFSTED, the standard of
Geography in our schools is in decline.
This week’s Essex Chronicle interviewed
local people about this. Less than a quarter knew that the largest ocean in
the world is the Pacific. One third didn’t know that Everest was the highest
mountain on earth, and half didn’t know that the mountain range in which
Everest is situated is the Himalayas.
All of which brings us to the Mount of Transfiguration. Nine
of Jesus’ apostles didn’t make it to the Mount of Transfiguration. Only three
did. That tells you this incident was special, just as the same three
accompanied Jesus in Gethsemane.
And the fact that the incident happens on a mountain also
tells us this is important. Whenever Jesus climbs a mountain in Matthew’s
Gospel, it is a sign to pay particular attention. The words or deeds that
follow will be significant.
So it’s no surprise that when the voice from heaven speaks
here, it ends with the words, ‘listen to him’ (verse 5). You always encounter
the authority of Jesus on mountains in Matthew – from the Sermon on the Mount
(chapters 5-7), to mountain after the Resurrection where he gives the Great
Commission (28:16-20).
Peter and the others certainly need to be reminded about the
authority of Jesus here. Sometimes we do, too. We slip, we compromise and we
dilute our allegiance to Jesus. Peter also needed encouragement for the
difficult task of obeying Jesus. I suggest we do, too. All these things – the challenges
and the encouragement – we find on the Mount of Transfiguration.
1. Heroes
Peter’s first mistake is this. When Elijah and Moses appear, he equates Jesus
with them. He needs to hear that it is Jesus to whom he should listen. He needs
to look up with his friends at the end of the experience and only see Jesus. I
think he’s gone in for a spot of hero worship.
The Christian Church has been altogether too good at
creating personality cults, where we elevate people to a status close to that
of Christ. It isn’t just the Catholic veneration of Mary or loyalty to the
Pope. Protestants are just as good at this trick. Some Christians hang on every
word of church leaders they admire. Listen to members of some congregations
talk about how good life was when so-and-so was the minister, and you’re
dangerously close to a personality cult where people depend on a talented
leader, instead of trusting in Christ.
Is it possible that we do something similar? Here is an
example.
For all the modern hymns and worship songs I pick for
services, it may surprise you to know that I love Charles Wesley’s writing. I
have a problem with some of the tunes allocated to them: I sometimes wonder
whether the compilers of Hymns and Psalms had done a sponsorship deal with the
manufacturers of Prozac. There seems no other explanation for the preponderance
of dull tunes in the book.
However, I have a problem sometimes with people who defend
Wesley’s hymns against other developments in worship. I encountered this in my
first circuit. Some people were quite virulent about my expansion of the
worship repertoire. When pressed to defend the Wesley hymns, it was on the
grounds of superior poetry and musicality. I don’t deny these are important,
but they never mentioned the doctrines Wesley wrote about – doctrines he had
experienced. None of his staunch defenders alluded to sharing in his spiritual
experience.
If only they had, I think they might have behaved
differently. They made Wesley into a kind of hero that he would have abhorred.
They applauded the style of his faith, but not the substance. They were the
least likely to be sharing their faith with others and pursuing holiness of
life.
No – Charles Wesley, and I am sure, John, too – would have
been horrified by the Wesleyolatry that has plagued parts of the Methodist
tradition since their death. They would have been far more likely to urge us in
the way Paul pleaded with some of those to whom he wrote, ‘Follow me as I
follow Christ.’
That is the message of the Transfiguration, too. ‘Listen to
him.’ Jesus is transfigured, not
Moses or Elijah. It isn’t that we should discard Moses or Elijah. But disciples
should follow them in their pointing to Christ.
Who have we made our hero alongside Christ, or maybe even
instead of him? The voice from heaven tells us to get our priorities straight:
‘Listen to him.’
2. Museums
One area of continuity when we moved here in 2005 was to find ourselves living
on the Dickens Estate. You will know that the roads on our estate are named
after Dickens characters and places: Copperfield, Nickleby, Quilp, Barnaby
Rudge, Flintwich Manor and so on.
The continuity was in having come from an area, the Medway
Towns, which had strong links with Charles Dickens himself. Dickens lived in
the Rochester area for some of his life. Every year, the council there makes
some money out of this – sorry, celebrates this – in two ways. There is a
Dickensian Christmas weekend to get you shopping in the area. In addition,
there is a Dickens
Festival in June. Not only that, a large area of the former Chatham
Dockyard (now known as Chatham Maritime) has been given over to Dickens World, which is a museum and
theme park based on the man, his life and literature. They’ll fleece you for
£12.50 before letting you in through the turnstiles.
Could it be that in his confusion and fear Peter tries to
commemorate the Transfiguration with his own little museum or theme park? He
blurts out a half-witted idea to make three dwellings – one for Jesus, one for
Moses and one for Elijah. I’m not suggesting he wanted to exploit it
commercially in the way the memory of Charles Dickens is in Kent. But he wants
to put up buildings to mark the spot and celebrate this little bit of history.
Is there anything wrong with that? Why does the voice from
heaven interrupt him while he is jabbering on? Come back to the Dickens
Festival in Rochester for a story, because I think it might be a way into the
dilemma.
For all his flaws, you can be sure of one admirable quality
about Charles Dickens: he cared about the poor. His novels campaigned against
the social injustices of his day. If you were going to celebrate Dickens,
wouldn’t it be appropriate to do so by helping the poor, rather than bowing down
at the temple of consumerism?
Well, at the Dickens Festival, many people would dress up in
the costume of the day, perhaps pretending to be a particular character. In our
last year there, I watched costumed visitors walk past Big Issue sellers,
pretending they weren’t there, and with little appreciation of the sick irony
that they who were celebrating Dickens did not share his care for the poor.
Now do you see the problem? The commemoration and
celebration of the Transfiguration that the Father’s voice from heaven calls
for is to ‘listen to him’. Yet we can turn church into a museum, and I don’t
simply mean when a church closes and the circuit sells the premises. Many of
our congregations are living, flesh and blood museums. We can preserve things
how they were. We can go through the motions. We can honour the traditions of
our ancestors. However, if all we have is the style without the substance, then
we’ve tried to build three dwellings, like Peter.
So – if we really are steeped in the Methodist tradition of
Christianity – do we truly believe that every single person needs salvation in
Christ? Do we believe it’s possible for anyone to find the love of God in
Christ? Do we believe it’s the birthright of all disciples to have such peace
in our hearts that we know we belong to Christ, and that it isn’t arrogant to
claim this? Are we optimistic about how much more the Holy Spirit can change us
into the likeness of Christ? If we do believe these things – if we will let the
Spirit of God ignite such faith in our hearts – then our churches will not be
museums.
3. Dazzle
It’s not only the appearance of the long-dead Moses and Elijah that turns Peter
and his friends into three lumps of jelly, it’s what happens to Jesus himself –
the very act of transfiguration. His face shines like the sun and his clothes
become dazzling white. Here we have special effects to make both Hollywood
movie directors and washing powder manufacturers jealous.
And there are certain parts of the Christian church that go
in for the razzle-dazzle and the glamour. Certain TV evangelists even dress
entirely in white suits. It goes with the image, along with the private jet,
the luxury home and the security guards – just like Jesus, don’t you think?
The question arises, why does Jesus go through this
experience? In addition, why does the voice from heaven speak, not only with
the words ‘Listen to him’ that we have already discussed, but also with
repetition of words from his baptism – ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I
am well pleased’ (verse 5)? Should I order my Mercedes now?
Yes. Er – only kidding. In fact, the Transfiguration is
linked profoundly with the suffering
of Jesus. It comes after Jesus has revealed his identity as Messiah at Caesarea
Philippi, prophesied his suffering and warned his disciples that anyone who
follows him must embrace rejection, suffering and even perhaps death. The
Transfiguration is not an escape from that destiny. It is God’s affirmation of
his Son’s obedience.
What will sustain Jesus as he resolutely travels to
Jerusalem and the Cross? It is knowing that he is the Son of God, and that the
Father loves him. ‘This is my Son, the Beloved’, says the voice. Accompany that
with such an encounter with the Father that his face shines and his clothes
dazzle, and you get some sense that God the Father affirms and encourages Jesus
by deed and word here. Has Jesus forgotten who he is? Does he need reminding of
the Father’s love? No. However, an underlining gives him strength and
encouragement.
If Jesus needed that, then how much more do we? He is Son of
God in a unique way. We are sons and daughters of God by adoption. We are not
divine. However, what is the effect of hearing that voice, affirming that we
are the Father’s children? What does it do for us to know that the Father loves
us? Is it not the foundation we need to live the daring and sacrificial life of
faith?
I only remember one sermon from the weekly communion
services at college during my three years in Bristol. The preacher was Tom Smail.
He preached on the baptism of Jesus, and picked out those similar words: ‘This
is my Son, the Beloved’. He used these words to remind us how God saw us – as
beloved children. I have never forgotten this. When I waver, I go back to this
truth.
Likewise, I remember one main insight from my Ethics tutor.
We were talking about vocation. He described how the traditional Catholic view
had been to confine vocation to the priesthood, the monastery or the nunnery.
The Reformation expanded it to include ‘ordinary’ jobs. But that wasn’t radical
enough, he said. Our most fundamental vocation is not to do, but to be – to be
children of God.
When you know you are a child of God, and when you know the
Father loves you, you have inner resources that are the strongest of
foundations when the storms of life come. The life of faith will bring
challenges aplenty. We can walk into them, knowing the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ loves us for eternity. We can ‘listen to him’, and set out on the
challenges of discipleship.
Technorati Tags: OFSTED, Geography, mountains, transfiguration, CharlesWesley, CharlesDickens, DickensFestival, DickensWorld, ChathamMaritime, suffering, vocation
Introduction
According to OFSTED, the standard of
Geography in our schools is in decline.
This week’s Essex Chronicle interviewed
local people about this. Less than a quarter knew that the largest ocean in
the world is the Pacific. One third didn’t know that Everest was the highest
mountain on earth, and half didn’t know that the mountain range in which
Everest is situated is the Himalayas.
All of which brings us to the Mount of Transfiguration. Nine
of Jesus’ apostles didn’t make it to the Mount of Transfiguration. Only three
did. That tells you this incident was special, just as the same three
accompanied Jesus in Gethsemane.
And the fact that the incident happens on a mountain also
tells us this is important. Whenever Jesus climbs a mountain in Matthew’s
Gospel, it is a sign to pay particular attention. The words or deeds that
follow will be significant.
So it’s no surprise that when the voice from heaven speaks
here, it ends with the words, ‘listen to him’ (verse 5). You always encounter
the authority of Jesus on mountains in Matthew – from the Sermon on the Mount
(chapters 5-7), to mountain after the Resurrection where he gives the Great
Commission (28:16-20).
Peter and the others certainly need to be reminded about the
authority of Jesus here. Sometimes we do, too. We slip, we compromise and we
dilute our allegiance to Jesus. Peter also needed encouragement for the
difficult task of obeying Jesus. I suggest we do, too. All these things – the challenges
and the encouragement – we find on the Mount of Transfiguration.
1. Heroes
Peter’s first mistake is this. When Elijah and Moses appear, he equates Jesus
with them. He needs to hear that it is Jesus to whom he should listen. He needs
to look up with his friends at the end of the experience and only see Jesus. I
think he’s gone in for a spot of hero worship.
The Christian Church has been altogether too good at
creating personality cults, where we elevate people to a status close to that
of Christ. It isn’t just the Catholic veneration of Mary or loyalty to the
Pope. Protestants are just as good at this trick. Some Christians hang on every
word of church leaders they admire. Listen to members of some congregations
talk about how good life was when so-and-so was the minister, and you’re
dangerously close to a personality cult where people depend on a talented
leader, instead of trusting in Christ.
Is it possible that we do something similar? Here is an
example.
For all the modern hymns and worship songs I pick for
services, it may surprise you to know that I love Charles Wesley’s writing. I
have a problem with some of the tunes allocated to them: I sometimes wonder
whether the compilers of Hymns and Psalms had done a sponsorship deal with the
manufacturers of Prozac. There seems no other explanation for the preponderance
of dull tunes in the book.
However, I have a problem sometimes with people who defend
Wesley’s hymns against other developments in worship. I encountered this in my
first circuit. Some people were quite virulent about my expansion of the
worship repertoire. When pressed to defend the Wesley hymns, it was on the
grounds of superior poetry and musicality. I don’t deny these are important,
but they never mentioned the doctrines Wesley wrote about – doctrines he had
experienced. None of his staunch defenders alluded to sharing in his spiritual
experience.
If only they had, I think they might have behaved
differently. They made Wesley into a kind of hero that he would have abhorred.
They applauded the style of his faith, but not the substance. They were the
least likely to be sharing their faith with others and pursuing holiness of
life.
No – Charles Wesley, and I am sure, John, too – would have
been horrified by the Wesleyolatry that has plagued parts of the Methodist
tradition since their death. They would have been far more likely to urge us in
the way Paul pleaded with some of those to whom he wrote, ‘Follow me as I
follow Christ.’
That is the message of the Transfiguration, too. ‘Listen to
him.’ Jesus is transfigured, not
Moses or Elijah. It isn’t that we should discard Moses or Elijah. But disciples
should follow them in their pointing to Christ.
Who have we made our hero alongside Christ, or maybe even
instead of him? The voice from heaven tells us to get our priorities straight:
‘Listen to him.’
2. Museums
One area of continuity when we moved here in 2005 was to find ourselves living
on the Dickens Estate. You will know that the roads on our estate are named
after Dickens characters and places: Copperfield, Nickleby, Quilp, Barnaby
Rudge, Flintwich Manor and so on.
The continuity was in having come from an area, the Medway
Towns, which had strong links with Charles Dickens himself. Dickens lived in
the Rochester area for some of his life. Every year, the council there makes
some money out of this – sorry, celebrates this – in two ways. There is a
Dickensian Christmas weekend to get you shopping in the area. In addition,
there is a Dickens
Festival in June. Not only that, a large area of the former Chatham
Dockyard (now known as Chatham Maritime) has been given over to Dickens World, which is a museum and
theme park based on the man, his life and literature. They’ll fleece you for
£12.50 before letting you in through the turnstiles.
Could it be that in his confusion and fear Peter tries to
commemorate the Transfiguration with his own little museum or theme park? He
blurts out a half-witted idea to make three dwellings – one for Jesus, one for
Moses and one for Elijah. I’m not suggesting he wanted to exploit it
commercially in the way the memory of Charles Dickens is in Kent. But he wants
to put up buildings to mark the spot and celebrate this little bit of history.
Is there anything wrong with that? Why does the voice from
heaven interrupt him while he is jabbering on? Come back to the Dickens
Festival in Rochester for a story, because I think it might be a way into the
dilemma.
For all his flaws, you can be sure of one admirable quality
about Charles Dickens: he cared about the poor. His novels campaigned against
the social injustices of his day. If you were going to celebrate Dickens,
wouldn’t it be appropriate to do so by helping the poor, rather than bowing down
at the temple of consumerism?
Well, at the Dickens Festival, many people would dress up in
the costume of the day, perhaps pretending to be a particular character. In our
last year there, I watched costumed visitors walk past Big Issue sellers,
pretending they weren’t there, and with little appreciation of the sick irony
that they who were celebrating Dickens did not share his care for the poor.
Now do you see the problem? The commemoration and
celebration of the Transfiguration that the Father’s voice from heaven calls
for is to ‘listen to him’. Yet we can turn church into a museum, and I don’t
simply mean when a church closes and the circuit sells the premises. Many of
our congregations are living, flesh and blood museums. We can preserve things
how they were. We can go through the motions. We can honour the traditions of
our ancestors. However, if all we have is the style without the substance, then
we’ve tried to build three dwellings, like Peter.
So – if we really are steeped in the Methodist tradition of
Christianity – do we truly believe that every single person needs salvation in
Christ? Do we believe it’s possible for anyone to find the love of God in
Christ? Do we believe it’s the birthright of all disciples to have such peace
in our hearts that we know we belong to Christ, and that it isn’t arrogant to
claim this? Are we optimistic about how much more the Holy Spirit can change us
into the likeness of Christ? If we do believe these things – if we will let the
Spirit of God ignite such faith in our hearts – then our churches will not be
museums.
3. Dazzle
It’s not only the appearance of the long-dead Moses and Elijah that turns Peter
and his friends into three lumps of jelly, it’s what happens to Jesus himself –
the very act of transfiguration. His face shines like the sun and his clothes
become dazzling white. Here we have special effects to make both Hollywood
movie directors and washing powder manufacturers jealous.
And there are certain parts of the Christian church that go
in for the razzle-dazzle and the glamour. Certain TV evangelists even dress
entirely in white suits. It goes with the image, along with the private jet,
the luxury home and the security guards – just like Jesus, don’t you think?
The question arises, why does Jesus go through this
experience? In addition, why does the voice from heaven speak, not only with
the words ‘Listen to him’ that we have already discussed, but also with
repetition of words from his baptism – ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I
am well pleased’ (verse 5)? Should I order my Mercedes now?
Yes. Er – only kidding. In fact, the Transfiguration is
linked profoundly with the suffering
of Jesus. It comes after Jesus has revealed his identity as Messiah at Caesarea
Philippi, prophesied his suffering and warned his disciples that anyone who
follows him must embrace rejection, suffering and even perhaps death. The
Transfiguration is not an escape from that destiny. It is God’s affirmation of
his Son’s obedience.
What will sustain Jesus as he resolutely travels to
Jerusalem and the Cross? It is knowing that he is the Son of God, and that the
Father loves him. ‘This is my Son, the Beloved’, says the voice. Accompany that
with such an encounter with the Father that his face shines and his clothes
dazzle, and you get some sense that God the Father affirms and encourages Jesus
by deed and word here. Has Jesus forgotten who he is? Does he need reminding of
the Father’s love? No. However, an underlining gives him strength and
encouragement.
If Jesus needed that, then how much more do we? He is Son of
God in a unique way. We are sons and daughters of God by adoption. We are not
divine. However, what is the effect of hearing that voice, affirming that we
are the Father’s children? What does it do for us to know that the Father loves
us? Is it not the foundation we need to live the daring and sacrificial life of
faith?
I only remember one sermon from the weekly communion
services at college during my three years in Bristol. The preacher was Tom Smail.
He preached on the baptism of Jesus, and picked out those similar words: ‘This
is my Son, the Beloved’. He used these words to remind us how God saw us – as
beloved children. I have never forgotten this. When I waver, I go back to this
truth.
Likewise, I remember one main insight from my Ethics tutor.
We were talking about vocation. He described how the traditional Catholic view
had been to confine vocation to the priesthood, the monastery or the nunnery.
The Reformation expanded it to include ‘ordinary’ jobs. But that wasn’t radical
enough, he said. Our most fundamental vocation is not to do, but to be – to be
children of God.
When you know you are a child of God, and when you know the
Father loves you, you have inner resources that are the strongest of
foundations when the storms of life come. The life of faith will bring
challenges aplenty. We can walk into them, knowing the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ loves us for eternity. We can ‘listen to him’, and set out on the
challenges of discipleship.
Technorati Tags: OFSTED, Geography, mountains, transfiguration, CharlesWesley, CharlesDickens, DickensFestival, DickensWorld, ChathamMaritime, suffering, vocation
Introduction
The painter Edouard Manet is now recognised as one of the great masters of
Impressionist art, but his career didn’t get off to a very promising start. His
first ‘commission’ was as a sixteen-year-old sailor visiting Rio de Janeiro. The
ship’s cargo of cheeses had deteriorated during the long sea voyage, and Manet
was asked to touch up the rinds, which had been damaged on the journey. Unfortunately
the paint which he used had lead in it, and the cheeses caused a local outbreak
of lead poisoning.[1]
Beginnings. For Manet, a disaster. For some of us, an
embarrassment. But sometimes, beginnings show us in microcosm what is to come. Beginnings
can show us the foundations on which the subsequent building will take shape.
In Jesus’ case, we have a story of beginnings here. Matthew
records the beginning of his public work in today’s Gospel reading. In this
short episode, we see some key features that would mark Jesus’ life from now
on.
However, why look at these foundational features of Jesus’
life? Because it’s interesting? No. Because Jesus is our model for life and
discipleship. What might we find?
1. Movement
Some translations say that Jesus ‘withdrew’ to Galilee. You could understand
that, given that this follows John’s arrest (verse 12). But if it is a
withdrawal, it’s a strange one. He hardly goes undercover. This is not the
disappearing act of a stock market trader who has lost his bank between three
and four million pounds!
No. The movement of Jesus is not a withdrawal to hide away,
in case the same forces who despatched his cousin John come knocking for him. Jesus
makes a tactical move to a place where he can launch his public ministry
fruitfully. There is no cowering in the face of opposition here. Admittedly,
Capernaum might be a favourable location: it was within the more tolerant Galilee.
On the other hand, Galilee was historically a base for the Zealots who opposed
Roman occupying forces with terrorist-like guerrilla tactics. And – as the
quotation from Isaiah shows – it was known as ‘Galilee of the Gentiles’. Some of
the synagogues excavated in the area show this influence: when I visited in
1989, you could see the signs of the zodiac on the floor of one, indicating an
interest in astrology. That suggests a fusing of Jewish faith with something
the Scriptures forbid.
So there were pros and cons to Jesus basing himself in
Galilee, and Capernaum in particular. It could be tough, but there were the
prospects for a sympathetic hearing, too. We can be sure of this: Jesus wasn’t
one to batten down the hatches. He didn’t go on the defensive in the face of
difficulties.
I used to know a vicar who had previously been a travelling
evangelist. He said that whatever town he visited in order to conduct a
mission, the local Christians always told him the same story: ‘It’s so hard for
the Gospel here.’ They might even tell him it was the hardest town in the
country for Christian faith. My friend would have no truck with this. He was
not prepared to let their stories daunt him. I think he had a Christ-like
attitude in taking that stance.
It is easy to feel daunted about the prospects for the
Gospel today. Certainly, there are hard places and factors that discourage us. However,
Jesus does not allow us the excuse to pull up the drawbridge and retreat inside
our Christian castle. He calls us to be on the move, looking for opportunities
to be Gospel witnesses. The movement may be geographical – to a new place. The movement
may be one of change in an existing situation.
It is not that I am guaranteeing hordes of converts swarming
into the church. The Jesus who moved about his native country so much in three
years of public ministry saw as many people put off by him or reject him as he
did embrace his message. But wherever he went, he brought light to people
living in darkness. And he calls us to be on the move for the sake of the
Gospel. Moving forwards, that is, not retreating.
2. Message
Jesus has a simple message: ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near’
(verse 17). You want foundations? You have them here. In these words is the
core of Jesus’ message. The kingdom of heaven has come near – what will your
response be? In Jesus, God’s reign comes close – how will you react? More
bluntly, God rules – what are you going to do about it?
God rules. Jesus will demonstrate that. He does so in this
passage, with the healings. He will do so in other ways, with his command over
nature, and by teaching with authority – unlike the religious leaders. God rules.
God does not simply have the title of king, God acts as king. Jesus shows this.
How will people react? Some will respond with joy. It will lead to them
following Jesus. Others will follow while the going is good, and then slip
away. Others will be offended. They will oppose him, and kill him.
One thing you don’t see is apathy. It was hard to encounter
Jesus and just shrug your shoulders as if nothing had happened. Because something
had happened. Someone had happened. You had to lean one way or another. You couldn’t
stay in the middle of the road.
When John Sentamu was enthroned
as Archbishop of York in November 2005, he pointed to this issue in his
enthronement sermon:
“The scandal of the church is that the Christ-event is no
longer life-changing, it has become life-enhancing,” he said. “We’ve lost the
power and joy that makes real disciples, and we’ve become consumers of religion
and not disciples of Jesus Christ.”
Perhaps that is our problem. Jesus never meant his message
to be life-enhancing, something that would make a good thing better. You can
see plenty of adverts for such products in a consumer society. However, Jesus
is not a product. Jesus is Lord, and he represents his Father, the King of the
universe. Jesus is not a deluxe addition to life. Jesus is life or death. We rely
on him, not on touching wood.
If we truly believe this, it will show in our lifestyles. There
will be something special about us, not just as individuals, but also as the
community of the church. People will say again, ‘See how those Christians love
one another.’ Society will be alternately seeking us for help, and in awe of
us, keeping their distance. If the world can see that Jesus orders our lives,
and the difference that makes, we shall earn the right to speak and challenge
people to walk in his ways, too. While Jesus is just a consumer choice, though,
we shall have no such cutting edge to our proclamation.
3. Mission
I have dim and distant memories of starting Sunday School as a small boy. In the
Beginners’ Department, we marched round in a circle to put our offertory in the
box, singing the same song every week: ‘Hear the pennies dropping.’ They were
such joyful days, singing away, that I bawled my eyes out when I moved to the
Infants’ Department on Promotion Sunday one year.
The singing left a mark on me in those early days. If I ever
see a book of the old CSSM Choruses, I have fond memories. When Rebekah first
came back from the Edward Bear Club at St Mary’s singing ‘Wide, wide as the
ocean’, I went misty-eyed.
And one song in particular formed its shape on my memory. ‘I
will make you fishers of men, if you follow me.’ Of course, it quotes our story
today. Jesus sees two fishermen, Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, casting a
net into the lake (verse 18), and he says, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish
for people’ (verse 19). They leave their nets straight away to follow him
(verse 20), and he repeats the summons to James and John, the sons of Zebedee
(verses 21-22).
It was common for young men following a rabbi to imbibe both
his teaching and his lifestyle. However, normally, the young man would make his
own approach to the rabbi. It was highly unusual for the master to take the
initiative in calling someone to follow him.[2]
But that’s what happens here: Jesus says, ‘Follow me’. He is
intentional about gaining disciples. For mission is at the heart of his life. Not
only that, the disciples are to reproduce that emphasis on mission, if they are
to imitate him. Thus, it becomes, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for
people.’
Mission, then, for Jesus, is not an optional extra for
particularly enthusiastic disciples. It is for all. Not all of us are
evangelists (research suggests about one in ten might be). However, we are all
witnesses. We all have a part to play in God’s mission.
I read a
moving story[3]
along these lines yesterday. A man who rejoiced under the name Catfish
occasionally darkened the doors of a church building. He wasn’t regular, like
his wife. He was diagnosed with cancer. Someone regularly visited him in
hospital. Twice, the visitor asked Catfish if he’d made his peace with God. Every
time, he gave the same answer: ‘The Lord’s Spirit don’t strive with me anymore,
because I denied him and I missed my chance.’
The third time he visited, Catfish was waiting to die. The visitor
said, ‘You know what I’m going to ask, I want to know if you’ve made your peace
with God.’ Back came the usual answer. ‘The Spirit don’t strive with me
anymore. I’ve missed my chance.’ The friend squeezed Catfish’s hand, looked him
in the eye, and said, ‘My God is more merciful than that.’ Catfish broke down
in tears and found the peace of God before he died. All because one friend had
the courage to fish, and tell him what God was really like.
4. Ministry
The story naturally ends at verse 22, but for some reason the Lectionary gives
us verse 23, which is the first verse of the next episode in the Gospel:
Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues
and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every
sickness among the people.
Here, Jesus puts it all together and applies what he has
already modelled. There is movement –
‘throughout Galilee’; the message – ‘proclaiming
the good news of the kingdom’; and there is mission,
as he heals the sick.
I can sum up the theme of Jesus’ ministry by recounting a
story. I mentioned earlier that I visited the Holy Land in 1989. When we
visited Galilee, we had the privilege on the Sunday morning of attending a Melkite
church[4]
in the village of Ibillin. The priest was a Palestinian man called Elias Chacour[5].
He is internationally famous for promoting reconciliation between the warring
communities in the Holy Land. Since his church was in communion with the Pope
and most of us weren’t Catholics, there was a delicate question about receiving
Holy Communion from him. We expected to hear that we couldn’t partake, and at
most could receive a blessing. We reckoned without Elias Chacour. He said, ‘Nobody
ordained me to check someone’s membership ticket. You are all welcome at the
sacrament.’
It was pure grace. No checking whether we met his standards;
Father Elias gave the bread and wine to all who would receive whatever God
would give them. And in that simple but rebellious act, I see an echo of Jesus.
As he travels around Galilee, preaching and healing, there is no hint that he
only offers the benefits of the kingdom to those who are good enough, to the
respectable, to those who tick the right boxes. He gives the love of God in
every way, to all and sundry, in an unconditional manner. He is not like the church
I once heard of that used to bus in elderly lonely people for socialising and a
meal, but which would not feed them until they had agreed to listen to the Gospel.
Jesus behaves here like the sower of his famous parable, who recklessly and
generously threw the seed here, there and everywhere, and waited for the
results. May the same sense of abandon characterise the way we spread around the
love of God.
[1]
Simon Coupland, Spicing
Up Your Speaking, p 203 # 193.
[2] Donald
A Hagner, Matthew
1-13, p 76f.
[3]
Via John
Meunier.
[4] The
Melkites are ordered like the Eastern Orthodox, but are in communion with Rome.
[5]
See his books Blood
Brothers and We
Belong To The Land, or his biography The
Other Side Of Welcome.
Technorati Tags: EdouardManet, Impressionists, discipleship, JohnSentamu, CSSM, EliasChacour, SimonCoupland, DonaldHagner, JohnMeunier, Melkites
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