There is a tension in being one centered in a Biblical worldview. It is the tension that exists between the self and the Messianic action. The Messianic action. What is a messianic action ? For the individual disciple of Jesus it is summed up in Mark 8:34, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves…” I love what Karl Barth has to say about movement away from self. He says, “To follow Jesus means to go beyond oneself in a specific action & attitude & therefore to turn one’s back upon oneself – to leave oneself behind”. Barth argues that this movement “can never be a question of a routine continuation or repetition of our customary practise… it always involves the decision of a new day”. The Messianic action says that disciples are shaped & formed by continuous concrete actions that deny the self in their move towards the other.
Sometimes I am overwhelmed, even frozen by the reality of reality. There is an exquisite complexity to it that threatens annihilation in the mere contemplation of it. Yet the call of Jesus is call to move, to step & to step and to step again. Repeatedly in the Gospels Jesus’ teaching is a call & a command not to grow comfortable & content & static in our own petty kingdoms but to be sensitive to those who inhabit the margins and to be ‘Jesus’ in those places.
This movement away from the self - means we are like pilgrim people freed from the attachment & pursuit of possessions, we are freed from the pursuit of social status & the absolute of family ties. It means we are like wanderers who embrace the path of weakness, resisting the use of force even towards our enemies. Ours is a call to a simple yet purposeful piety filled with integrity – almost transparent and definitely low key in its practice.
I was reading a Christmas story to the kids before Christmas. It was the story of a comet that journeys from a way out there in deep space. It is difficult voyage past stars and the gravitational pull of the planets. Eventually the comet passes near the earth where it becomes a sign that guides the wise men to the place where the babe, Jesus has been born. It occurred to me that this orientation & sensitivity towards the edges is profoundly present even in the beginning of the Gospel narrative. This is an attentiveness, a sensitivity born of those familiar with the Messianic action.
Yet I have a question, “Why does it take outsiders, marginal people like the wise men & the shepherds to identify who is the babe born in Bethlehem ?
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
An Unfamiliar Presence
About 3 weeks ago, I was walking home after visiting a sick friend of mine. I was walking home and I passed a heap of a man lying on the side of the road in the twilight – dark & unmoving.
There was no way I could avoid this guy because I had to pass him to get to my house. Anyway, I passed him and went inside because the dinner hour was nearing. I asked my wife about the man who looked like he was dead on the roadside and she said he had been lying there for a number of hours. She said all that had happened was that when the neighbours, whose grass he had been lying on returned home, they had beeped their horn loudly at him, then wound down their window - commanding him to move on ! He didn’t move.
It took another half-an-hour but eventually I was standing in close proximity to this unmoving figure of a man. His hair was overgrown & mattered, his face darkened by dirt and grime – his clothes unspeakable in their filth. I had a friend with me who could speak good Indonesian. I felt safe. He tried for a number of minutes to find out the unmoving guy’s need, but all he got from him was incomprehensible grunts. Finally we asked a passing local who this guy was and he said, ‘orang gila’ – a crazy person.
Standing before this guy who was unable to speak – lying before me unmoving – in a culture I am only beginning to understand was unnerving. I felt out of my depth – even a little annoyed because it was dinner-time and in my family dominated by the routine of little kids – I was currently the absent Father.
I stood and looked at this vulnerable and unmoving guy, wondering what to do. I stood & stared and chatted about the options with my friend then finally I went back home. Dinner was finished so I related the story to my wife in the kitchen. Ever practical, she asked me, “What are you going to do ?” In the absence of connectedness to this culture or ringing up for the help of some charitable or government agency, I was left with only one option - the concrete action !
I said, “I am going to take him some food”. So I did ! I walked out into the darkness and shortly after I was standing again alone before the darkened figure of the unmoving man. I was struck in those moments by a remembrance of Mt 25 and Jesus saying, “When you do this to the least of these… you do it to me !” It struck me that here in this moment I was standing at the feet of Jesus and this one before me, felt like a stranger. Yet there was something more damning ! My actions on behalf of his needs felt equally strange and unfamiliar. I was standing at the feet of Jesus and I did not know this one before me. I felt ashamed.
Feeling chastised and humbled by the moment, I crouched down and said softly, “I have some food & drink for you... I will pray for you also.” I said a short silent prayer over him then I stood up, turned and walked back into my house. In the morning, I went out to the curb-side to see what had happened to the man & he was gone.
There was no way I could avoid this guy because I had to pass him to get to my house. Anyway, I passed him and went inside because the dinner hour was nearing. I asked my wife about the man who looked like he was dead on the roadside and she said he had been lying there for a number of hours. She said all that had happened was that when the neighbours, whose grass he had been lying on returned home, they had beeped their horn loudly at him, then wound down their window - commanding him to move on ! He didn’t move.
It took another half-an-hour but eventually I was standing in close proximity to this unmoving figure of a man. His hair was overgrown & mattered, his face darkened by dirt and grime – his clothes unspeakable in their filth. I had a friend with me who could speak good Indonesian. I felt safe. He tried for a number of minutes to find out the unmoving guy’s need, but all he got from him was incomprehensible grunts. Finally we asked a passing local who this guy was and he said, ‘orang gila’ – a crazy person.
Standing before this guy who was unable to speak – lying before me unmoving – in a culture I am only beginning to understand was unnerving. I felt out of my depth – even a little annoyed because it was dinner-time and in my family dominated by the routine of little kids – I was currently the absent Father.
I stood and looked at this vulnerable and unmoving guy, wondering what to do. I stood & stared and chatted about the options with my friend then finally I went back home. Dinner was finished so I related the story to my wife in the kitchen. Ever practical, she asked me, “What are you going to do ?” In the absence of connectedness to this culture or ringing up for the help of some charitable or government agency, I was left with only one option - the concrete action !
I said, “I am going to take him some food”. So I did ! I walked out into the darkness and shortly after I was standing again alone before the darkened figure of the unmoving man. I was struck in those moments by a remembrance of Mt 25 and Jesus saying, “When you do this to the least of these… you do it to me !” It struck me that here in this moment I was standing at the feet of Jesus and this one before me, felt like a stranger. Yet there was something more damning ! My actions on behalf of his needs felt equally strange and unfamiliar. I was standing at the feet of Jesus and I did not know this one before me. I felt ashamed.
Feeling chastised and humbled by the moment, I crouched down and said softly, “I have some food & drink for you... I will pray for you also.” I said a short silent prayer over him then I stood up, turned and walked back into my house. In the morning, I went out to the curb-side to see what had happened to the man & he was gone.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Sons of the Name
There is a small verse in Genesis 4, which appears between the beginnings of civilisation & the ending of the Flood that says, ‘At that time people began to invoke the name of the Lord’. That means they invoked the name of the One who is wholly Other.
However by the time of the story of the Tower of Babel the world had turned. This is now the story of the Sons of Shem, or the people of the name, who had ‘one language & the same words’. After the flood, they migrated east to a great plain of Shinar & settled there. Three times the Sons of Shem say among themselves ‘Let us’. ‘‘Let us’ brick some bricks’, ‘‘let us’ build a city and a tower’ and ‘‘let us’ make a name for ourselves’.
What the Sons of the name did made good sense – it was reasonable. Reality dictated that unless they erected a protective structure of order and were very intentional about that, they would be overwhelmed with that most fundamental terror – chaos. The Sons of the name feared they would be dispersed over the face of the earth.
Hesenberg’s principle says, ‘The act of observing a phenomena changes it’. God descends to see the city and the tower that the Sons of the name have built. God descends and God sees. Wholly otherness draws near & things are no longer the same. God discerns a singular people, with a singular language - building an empire of the sun. A self-centred universe is the growing intention of the Sons of Shem.
So God acts to confound these plans of men. He descends & his arrival is a speech act. God speaks and the irony of the Sons of the name becomes evident. These men with their singular language do not understand the speaking of the Name of the One who is wholly other – Babel means both ‘Father God’ in oriental languages and ‘confusion’ in Hebrew.
In the Bible truly hearing the name of God equals obeying his commands. In misunderstanding, in not being open to translating God’s name, the fear of the Sons of the name is realised. The speaking of the Name of the One who is Wholly Other releases a great diversity of languages onto the Sons of the Name and they can no longer build their city.
The people of Babel - City of Confusion - are dispersed over the face of the earth.
The Sons of Shem are the forefathers of Abraham. They are now truly the deconstructed people of the Name, wanderers whose very survival will depend upon their sensitivity & hospitality towards the wholly Other.
However by the time of the story of the Tower of Babel the world had turned. This is now the story of the Sons of Shem, or the people of the name, who had ‘one language & the same words’. After the flood, they migrated east to a great plain of Shinar & settled there. Three times the Sons of Shem say among themselves ‘Let us’. ‘‘Let us’ brick some bricks’, ‘‘let us’ build a city and a tower’ and ‘‘let us’ make a name for ourselves’.
What the Sons of the name did made good sense – it was reasonable. Reality dictated that unless they erected a protective structure of order and were very intentional about that, they would be overwhelmed with that most fundamental terror – chaos. The Sons of the name feared they would be dispersed over the face of the earth.
Hesenberg’s principle says, ‘The act of observing a phenomena changes it’. God descends to see the city and the tower that the Sons of the name have built. God descends and God sees. Wholly otherness draws near & things are no longer the same. God discerns a singular people, with a singular language - building an empire of the sun. A self-centred universe is the growing intention of the Sons of Shem.
So God acts to confound these plans of men. He descends & his arrival is a speech act. God speaks and the irony of the Sons of the name becomes evident. These men with their singular language do not understand the speaking of the Name of the One who is wholly other – Babel means both ‘Father God’ in oriental languages and ‘confusion’ in Hebrew.
In the Bible truly hearing the name of God equals obeying his commands. In misunderstanding, in not being open to translating God’s name, the fear of the Sons of the name is realised. The speaking of the Name of the One who is Wholly Other releases a great diversity of languages onto the Sons of the Name and they can no longer build their city.
The people of Babel - City of Confusion - are dispersed over the face of the earth.
The Sons of Shem are the forefathers of Abraham. They are now truly the deconstructed people of the Name, wanderers whose very survival will depend upon their sensitivity & hospitality towards the wholly Other.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Name Calling III
The calling of a name bids a particular other into close proximity to the one calling.
Isaiah 30 speaks of the name of the Lord coming from an unbounded place and he is intense and awful in his coming. The Holy Name of the One – his appearing is described as a speech act. His nostrils burning, thick clouds arising, his lips boiling over with rage. ‘Who is this one who comes ? I do not know him !’ His tongue is like a devouring fire & when His breath reaches me, it overwhelms like an overflowing stream reaching up to the neck ! There is nothing gentle in this speech act. ‘Under the whole heaven he lets it loose & his lightening to the corners of the earth’. This is violence, annihilating consummation – a radical discontinuity, dust & ashes.
My mistake is that I mostly think of God in equilibrium – omni this & omni that. There is power certainly but it is mostly benevolent, expended on behalf of mercy, grace & forgiveness. I rely on that God. Yet this One who comes from beyond the margin of the boundless is perilous and unpredictable. He leaves me feeling anxious but He certainly has my attention. If the Empire of the Same is about to be broken open by something wholly Other, I would rather be overwhelmed by God dangerous and creative – with an angry heart of compassion, the very pain of God - than whimsical, capricious chaos.
The Psalmist says God raises ‘the poor from the dust & lifts the needy from the ash heap’. That is because when he comes in anger, breaking out on behalf of His justice – that is all that is left – dust and ashes. The wonder of it is that the other others are not consumed.
When I am overwhelmed with trouble I am often silent & inactive in equal measure. I retreat inwards, waiting for the equilibrium to return. Yet when oppression births injustice, God breaks forth and his voice is majestic and heard, indeed his nostrils, lips, tongue and breath quiver with his purifying, terrible activity.
I think the thing I react to most is that this is not a God I am familiar with – Yahweh – God of righteousness & justice – totally Other breaking out in Holy bedlam !
That I may stand in the presence of God like one before the blast furnace and survive it. To rise up from the dust & the ashes – penitent, poor and needy - surely that is newness & wonder & resurrection. Outwards & downwards !
Isaiah 30 speaks of the name of the Lord coming from an unbounded place and he is intense and awful in his coming. The Holy Name of the One – his appearing is described as a speech act. His nostrils burning, thick clouds arising, his lips boiling over with rage. ‘Who is this one who comes ? I do not know him !’ His tongue is like a devouring fire & when His breath reaches me, it overwhelms like an overflowing stream reaching up to the neck ! There is nothing gentle in this speech act. ‘Under the whole heaven he lets it loose & his lightening to the corners of the earth’. This is violence, annihilating consummation – a radical discontinuity, dust & ashes.
My mistake is that I mostly think of God in equilibrium – omni this & omni that. There is power certainly but it is mostly benevolent, expended on behalf of mercy, grace & forgiveness. I rely on that God. Yet this One who comes from beyond the margin of the boundless is perilous and unpredictable. He leaves me feeling anxious but He certainly has my attention. If the Empire of the Same is about to be broken open by something wholly Other, I would rather be overwhelmed by God dangerous and creative – with an angry heart of compassion, the very pain of God - than whimsical, capricious chaos.
The Psalmist says God raises ‘the poor from the dust & lifts the needy from the ash heap’. That is because when he comes in anger, breaking out on behalf of His justice – that is all that is left – dust and ashes. The wonder of it is that the other others are not consumed.
When I am overwhelmed with trouble I am often silent & inactive in equal measure. I retreat inwards, waiting for the equilibrium to return. Yet when oppression births injustice, God breaks forth and his voice is majestic and heard, indeed his nostrils, lips, tongue and breath quiver with his purifying, terrible activity.
I think the thing I react to most is that this is not a God I am familiar with – Yahweh – God of righteousness & justice – totally Other breaking out in Holy bedlam !
That I may stand in the presence of God like one before the blast furnace and survive it. To rise up from the dust & the ashes – penitent, poor and needy - surely that is newness & wonder & resurrection. Outwards & downwards !
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Spirit Resonance...
The lite touch of God’s glory in the world is like the unexpected arrival of rain. Suddenly, leaves are dipping involuntarily in asymmetrical acknowledgement of its presence – a persistent shower giving lustre to the world & heightening awareness.
The Psalmist says that, “day after day pours forth speech and night after night declares knowledge… of the glory of God - yet there is no speech nor are there words…” While the lite touch of God’s glory is ever present, the sense of its arrival is always subtle. It builds in degrees, inhabiting the peripheral of vision or the graduated silences out on the edges of constant noise.
That our vision and hearing are dim to its arrival is witness to our routines of busyness and distraction.
That the activity of God’s glory in the world shapes our daily situation is beyond question. Glory lends intention to secret acts of mercy and kindness. Glory intensifies hope and endurance when the real is all too abrasive & unfriendly, Glory makes forgiveness the unthinkable possibility that dances in the midst of a hurting relationship At its most compelling the Glory of God ignites a passion for justice that burns & is vigilant, restless & creative.
When the dipping dance of the leaves ceases, the enduring effect of rained out rain is that cleansing wetness that soaks into every crack & crevice – absorbed into pores of everything it touches.
Drips hanging like jewels are the multitude of mundane moments touched by the finger of God.
The Psalmist says that, “day after day pours forth speech and night after night declares knowledge… of the glory of God - yet there is no speech nor are there words…” While the lite touch of God’s glory is ever present, the sense of its arrival is always subtle. It builds in degrees, inhabiting the peripheral of vision or the graduated silences out on the edges of constant noise.
That our vision and hearing are dim to its arrival is witness to our routines of busyness and distraction.
That the activity of God’s glory in the world shapes our daily situation is beyond question. Glory lends intention to secret acts of mercy and kindness. Glory intensifies hope and endurance when the real is all too abrasive & unfriendly, Glory makes forgiveness the unthinkable possibility that dances in the midst of a hurting relationship At its most compelling the Glory of God ignites a passion for justice that burns & is vigilant, restless & creative.
When the dipping dance of the leaves ceases, the enduring effect of rained out rain is that cleansing wetness that soaks into every crack & crevice – absorbed into pores of everything it touches.
Drips hanging like jewels are the multitude of mundane moments touched by the finger of God.
Name Calling II
The calling of a name identifies a particular other. It focuses attention & begins conversation. The calling of a name initiates movement in a particular direction.
To be immersed in the focused speaking of a name, a discordant cacophony of a multitude speaking as a community. To be immersed is to stand and let a unique bounded moment unfold around you.
The other evening was the first night of Idul Fitri – an all night of muslim prayer marking the end of the fasting month.
I was standing on a roof - in the anonymity of the night. Here & there the mere suggestion of shapes & surfaces marked my particular place in the world but my hearing told me otherwise. I was immersed in a uniquely bounded moment of a tremendous speech act, a multitudinous calling of the name of the One. From the front, now behind, to the side, the other side… an unbroken multi-vocal charge of different utterances converging, rising to crescendo then falling again… a creative gaggle of voices congregating around the speaking of the name of the One.
Yet there is a contrast, another speech act. It is the unending calling forth of my name by the One. It is a creative utterance that is uniquely unbounded - a self-involving moment. It calls me out from the anonymity of the night & into a world of light and encounter with particular others. It calls me to become familiar with the cadences of particular voices, engaging in a particular situation, immersed in particular stories.
Like the smoke of burning leaves that is a barb to my eyes or the pungent sickly smell of rotting garbage that taunts my nostrils. To be immersed in the speech act with particular others begins in speaking words with little meaning, the sounding of which is harsh and unfamiliar. To remain in the creative gaggle of continuing conversation in context after different context etches out a new space of meaning shared. I am shaped & held by the words and the stories of particular others. The stretch of it building & intensifying my presence in the world & my relation to the One.
To be immersed in the focused speaking of a name, a discordant cacophony of a multitude speaking as a community. To be immersed is to stand and let a unique bounded moment unfold around you.
The other evening was the first night of Idul Fitri – an all night of muslim prayer marking the end of the fasting month.
I was standing on a roof - in the anonymity of the night. Here & there the mere suggestion of shapes & surfaces marked my particular place in the world but my hearing told me otherwise. I was immersed in a uniquely bounded moment of a tremendous speech act, a multitudinous calling of the name of the One. From the front, now behind, to the side, the other side… an unbroken multi-vocal charge of different utterances converging, rising to crescendo then falling again… a creative gaggle of voices congregating around the speaking of the name of the One.
Yet there is a contrast, another speech act. It is the unending calling forth of my name by the One. It is a creative utterance that is uniquely unbounded - a self-involving moment. It calls me out from the anonymity of the night & into a world of light and encounter with particular others. It calls me to become familiar with the cadences of particular voices, engaging in a particular situation, immersed in particular stories.
Like the smoke of burning leaves that is a barb to my eyes or the pungent sickly smell of rotting garbage that taunts my nostrils. To be immersed in the speech act with particular others begins in speaking words with little meaning, the sounding of which is harsh and unfamiliar. To remain in the creative gaggle of continuing conversation in context after different context etches out a new space of meaning shared. I am shaped & held by the words and the stories of particular others. The stretch of it building & intensifying my presence in the world & my relation to the One.
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