Resurrection - tall order or rising high?

I ended my last piece on “hell 2” with the question that that piece begs: “What about resurrection?” I also said a while back that I would have appreciated someone in my life to give me straight answers. One of the reasons people may have hesitated is that a straight answer often begets more questions. But here goes…

I believe in resurrection, but I don’t believe in life-after-death in the conventional sense of my sense-of-self continuing after I die.

Resurrection is the idea that death cannot contain a person who has truly lived to the full. There is more to the idea than just that, but at the very least, everyone understands it thus far and I think almost anyone can agree to that. People whose lives have been touched by someone who has died continue to hold that person in their memory. The more fully that life was lived, the greater the reverence for their memory both in quantity of people (fame) and quality (authority?).

Going further requires a belief system that I have long since come to doubt. This is not to say I have dismissed it entirely…

The Christian idea of Resurrection is that one day all believers will be bodily and spiritually reassembled to live together for eternity. I have already expressed my doubts about an eternal life-after-death so I won’t go into that here.

Just as science has helped us to see that St. Paul and co had the wrong idea about how the universe is arranged, I believe science is unravelling the substance of physical resurrection. St Paul assumed a three-tiered arrangement of the universe: an underworld of spirits or hell; the earth (flat); and heaven above. He was wrong about that. St Paul also believed in a resurrection of all souls who believed in Jesus, something he thought would happen very soon – even in his lifetime. He was wrong about the timing and I think he was wrong about the bodily resurrection.

But I won’t go into the historical debate here. I think this quote says it all:

"The truth of the Resurrection shouldn't be the real battleground. I think what we want to do is try and rise above that and ask, 'What is the metaphoric truth of Easter?' The real power of Easter is the transformation that, as Christians, we believe continues to happen in people's lives....If Easter is about proving the veracity of some historical event that happened 2,000 years ago, that misses the point." Rev. Steve Huber of St. Columba's Episcopal Church

That about sums it up for me. (You can read more at Religious Tolerance.)

St Paul may have been wrong about the three-tiered universe – a forgivable shortsightedness given that he didn’t have a telescope. But that doesn’t stop us looking heavenward when we pray. Why? Because it is a helpful idea to imagine God and heaven as larger than us – above us – beyond us: God draws us toward an ideal. The metaphor has survived scientific scepticism. I have the same orientation toward the Resurrection. The story of Jesus’ rising from the dead is a powerful metaphor of his new Body in the form of those who choose to follow him and continue his memory in their own lives and commitments. If I doubt the historical validity of the Resurrection that does not impinge on that metaphor and therefore my belief is the more powerful.

I also think that believing in a metaphorical resurrection is more consistent with the idea of Incarnation: God becoming human. When I say, “Jesus lives!” I am declaring that Jesus’ teachings, values and power are real, present and available right in front of me by virtue of the activities of those who follow him.

"For the Son of God became man so that we might become God" Athanasios the Great, Archbishop of Alexandria

Resurrection draws us toward the divine ideal of a fully alive human being who transcends death by virtue of the power of their ideas, commitments, actions, values, teachings and so on.

I am more than merely a “skin-encapsulated ego”. Resurrection is something that begins even before death as my values, ideas, memories, loves infect the people around me. Resurrection is most apparent at funerals where people avoid the bad stuff, preferring to highlight the good. This is not always a bad thing, or at least we should acknowledge that to reconcile ourselves to a person’s mistakes begins the work of resurrecting their life and honouring their memory.

He said it...

In light of earlier posts on heaven and hell as well as today being the anniversary of Gandhi's naughtiness, I want to point to a foreword writen by his grandson Arun Gandhi. He expressed better than I could hope to what I believe. What's more, he says it in so few lines.

9-11

I am reminded by Tobias Winright of Sojourners that today is the 100th anniversary of Gandhi's first act of civil disobedience in Johannesburg. The Gandhi Institute has some useful information about present day attempts to make non-violence a useful part of social change even when dealing with terrorism.

Some people believe that non-violence and civil disobedience are useful strategies when it comes to individuals and groups trying to exercise social change from grass roots but that it has limited applicability to international relations.

It is worth remembering that things like the the Land Mine treaty are ventures that involve nation states. The fight for a World Court (that has teeth) is similarly an attempt to deal with violence at the level of macro politics.

The point of non-violent direct action is that it requires creativity to be exercised as a first resort so that one's dependence on the conventional means of resolving conflict are slowly displaced by more life-giving methods that emerge from one's context. No one method is universal because all situations are unique. Violence is universally failing yet we return to it so often!

Hopefully the UN can use diplomacy (or even sacntions) to prevent war in Iran where the US and UK were quick to rush to war with Iraq.

While you are at it, check out Ze Frank. Oh, and this one too.

Hell 2

Flop this is long!

I started wondering about heaven and hell once. More specifically: who made hell? If God made everything, then surely God created hell, which means God must take some credit or blame for it, depending on your point of view. This is true even if hell is something somebody else created because, presumably, God created somebody. The nature of hell has a marked effect on to what extent God’s creation of hell is palatable. Is hell a place of eternal pain – a consequence of a lifetime of sin? Is hell another chance to change one’s ways? Is hell something we create for ourselves while we are alive? Is hell something we are living in now?

These are all ideas I have entertained and still use to some extent in the sense of Myth. Each one deserves a paragraph or two.

The first idea doesn’t make sense to me. How can “3 score years and 10” of life determine an eternity of pleasure or punishment? The maths seems unjust. Surely those enjoying eternal bliss have a troubled conscience? “Hey Dudes, wanna go watch the Aurora Hades tonight? I hear the conditions are just right for a spectacular display. There’s been a new unseasonably large influx of the damned what with population explosions and contextual theology and all.” Let’s not even begin to talk of the people I love who qualify for hell and how I’m going to feel if I’m on the other side of the fence.

OK, so maybe it’s like a supplementary exam. You failed the first time. You got enough points to get a rewrite, which means you spend your holiday studying but, hey, at least you get a second chance. Problem is, it’s a no-brainer. Someone sits me down and says: “You screwed up and this is your last chance or we put the cement shoes on and dump you overboard. No more Love Boat.” I know what I’m going to do. Which begs the question: how come all the confusing life-stuff in the first place? Why not just get to point and say that? It’d save an awful lot of pain and angst… and paper.

The answer could be that life is a test of one’s character. This begs the question as to what the correct answers are. It still seems jolly unfair cos some people’s circumstances make passing all the more possible according to their own criteria. Furthermore, nowhere is it made clear what the requirements are. Most people just end up following the path of least resistance. And even those who seem to break the mould – well, what is the mould? And who says the mould should be broken. It all boils down to not knowing what the pass mark is…

Somewhere in the equation, life and eternal consequence have to match up in a sensible way. Maybe, my actions in life create the conditions of life-after-death. Nothing much changes, it’s just that I get to see it all in glowing heavenly colours – no more denial. Imagining the worst hell for someone like Hitler best captures this idea. Such a hell would be to spend eternity with the 6-million+ people whose death he engineered, especially if they were kind and forgiving. Which opens the opportunity for Hitler to actually accept that forgiveness and we’re back with the “why not just get to the point,” question again.

Mmm… I hear someone saying “freewill”. That’s important. Life is about exercising choice and life-after-death is the consequence of those choices. I also hear some heckler shouting “grace”. Spoiler. I was on a roll.

I still think that exercising choice and then accepting the eternal consequences doesn’t make sense. I can’t imagine why I would want to stop using freewill after I die. There may come a moment when I get fed up with the 70 virgins and the all-you-can-eat-no-way-it’s-fattening buffet and decide to rebel – just for the hell of it J. What then? Is there another tier to this arrangement, a hidden level in the matrix? Or maybe I just get booted across the divide to spend some time with homosexuals and Hindus. Hopefully I’ll find that sufficiently intolerable that I will see the error of my ways. Can I bounce across again?

Ah, grace. Ja, that’s a good one. We only get into heaven by virtue of God’s grace. There is nothing we can do – we are damned anyway. But forgiveness is ours if we choose to take it. So when do I get to choose: only now in life? Why not after death? Is there a free will off-switch in the coffin? That makes no sense at all. Heaven would be a pretty boring place filled with automatons going, “I told you so.”

Which brings us to the “empty hell” idea. That’s just a nice way of saying hell doesn’t exist. We die and we all hang out together for eternity and we gotta sort out the mess then too, just like we’re trying to do now. Only God’s a little more REAL, so we’re all REALLY motivated! So, again, why not just get to the point! What’s up with the cloak and dagger stuff – now you see God, now you don’t. Ho hum, in circles we go…

Either God has a bizarre sense of humour or there is no life-after-death.

Either: God sets up this world so that we live our lives constantly wondering whether God exists, wondering what the rules are - or not; hoping like crazy we’re getting life squared up – or not; sometimes realising it’s a lost cause and we may as well just give in and love – or not. Then one day we’re taken up to meet the Dude and it’s “Where is your ‘accepted forgiveness’ visa?”

Or: Hell and Heaven are a fiendishly clever idea to make us think about these things so much that we’ll realise the urgency of fixing this planet up quick cos THIS IS IT.

I believe… There is no heaven and hell. Death is final in the sense that my self-awareness will one day cease. If there is a heaven and hell, then - to the extent that one can speak of such things in geographical terms - I believe it will be a single place something like Hitler making friends with 6 million Jews. I just can’t see two places working very well.

I still believe that heaven and hell are useful Myths for describing earthly realities. Our choices do have consequences, but the ultimate value of these choices isn’t felt in eternity; these choices affect the here and now. We are creating heaven and hell all around us, all the time. “Who’s in and who’s out?” is not a helpful question anymore. It’s more about “What do you want and what are you prepared to do to help get it?”

Resurrection? One thing at a time…

Out

When I started this blog, I had a hidden agenda. A long time ago, I started wondering if I really believed this Christian stuff. It has been a long struggle to figure out what I believe. I tell people almost daily that they must take responsibility for what they believe, but those words sound hollow, when I have seldom done so myself. I decided a while back that I needed to do so for the sake of my integrity, but also because ideas do not develop and mature without challenge.

So far I have expressed opinions on this blog that tend toward the fringe of what is considered Christian, but it remains within those boundaries. Most people who read this blog have been supportive, occasionally offering questions and even resonance. But I have yet to venture – publicly, at any rate – into the more… err… disturbing (?) ideas that I now consider my own. That is not to say that they are original, but rather that I own them, take responsibility for them and accept the consequences.

This is another reason I named this blog “Dassies Bounce” – I want to see if my ideas can stand the test of debate – can they bounce – “does he bounce?” I have no doubt that I will change my ideas as people respond to what I write – that is part of growing. But will the fundamentals change? That is what I want to see…

I started asking questions very soon after I became a Christian in 1986. I found it irritating when people evaded giving straight answers. Sometimes people would do this because they were covering up ignorance, other times because they hoped the mystery would keep me searching, I guess. I really would have liked some straight answers, especially when I asked, “What do you believe?” but even more when I asked, “But how then can you reconcile…(add conundrum of choice)?” So, stop me if I start to sound like I’m beating around the bush.

I look forward to your interaction. Keep watching to see if something tickles or itches.

"Blessed are you..."

To truly change the world, we have to make ourselves vulnerable. That is part of the essence of the Jesus idea. That vulnerability, while offering hope to the world, can lead to our own demise.

Gunmen recently attacked Yabonga, the organisation Yvette works for. They made off with computers, cell-phones and money. Fortunately, no one was hurt. As a result of this trauma, the staff at Yabonga are considering closing down their VCT project. They correctly recognise that the attack is a direct result of their increased vulnerability as a result of this project.

VCT stands for voluntary counselling and testing. The service is free to the public and anyone can come and be tested confidentially for HIV and receive counselling before and after. The attackers made an appointment earlier on the day of their attack and so were let in without suspicion.

In South Africa, this service is more important than any other single service currently offered in the sector of HIV. Behavioural change most often happens when people are engaged in relationship that is non-judgemental, but informed. If South Africa hopes to overcome this disease, it will be through the implementation of more sites like this.

I believe that there are ways that Yabonga can increase their security without diminishing the accepting nature of the VCT service or doing away with it. But right now the most important thing is for the staff to know that what they are doing is important, even if it is frustrating and bruising.

Perhaps you would consider writing to them – just a sentence or two – to give them courage.

Fresh

My favourite time of the day is the morning. My favourite pasttime has always been running, although biking is catching up. My favourite daughter is Katie. Jurgen, my running partner and Althea, his wife, joined me for an early morning up to Rhodes Memorial. The photos are lekker.

Dhilbert... Dilbhert

Again, thanks Marc for keeping me sane:

http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/the_dilbert_blog/2006/08/silent_h.html

Hell 1

This was from Marc who shares with me an interest in alternative explanations of hell. Marc thinks he might believe in an "empty hell" which is an idea some Christians have borrowed from Universalism. Check the wiki article for more on that. I'll tell you a little of what I believe about hell soon... But first:

Bonus Question on Chemistry Exam (apparently:-):

“Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?”

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.

We can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially with birth and death rates as they are. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added. This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, and then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, "It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you," and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct... leaving only heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."

No safety in number 1

A friend, Clare Davidson, has written an interesting article on the insurance consequences of Katrina. What interests me is the important connections between people that our society refuses to acknowledge. "My wealth is mine, I earned it" - yet there are, in fact, real ways in which individual wealth springs from the unconscious benevolence of others if not the deliberate exploitation of others. Read it at:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/5273974.stm

I got this from Mom and thought it was an opportune connection:

A mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package. "What food might this contain?" The mouse wondered. He was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap. Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning. "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said, "Mr. Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern to you but it is of no consequence to me. I cannot be bothered by it."

The mouse turned to the pig and told him, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!" The pig sympathized, but said, "I am so very sorry, Mr. Mouse,
but there is nothing I can do about it but pray. Be assured you are in my prayers."

The mouse turned to the cow and said, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!" The cow said, "Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's no skin off my nose."

So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's mousetrap... alone. That very night a sound was heard throughout the house - like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey. The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught. The snake bit the farmer's wife. The farmer rushed her to the hospital and she returned home with a fever. Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient. But his wife's sickness continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock. To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig. The farmer's wife did not get well; she died. So many people came for her funeral, the farmer
had the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.

The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness.

Ha Ha Ha

Restless Rock just hocked a huge luugy: http://peterwoods.blogspot.com/2006/08/leeeeb-meeeb-alohnnd.html and check the snotty comments.

Mixing Taale

My mom-in-law, Jeanne, works in the Overberg and brought back two stories from a fishing village school. You won't get this if you don't understand Afrikaans.

The teacher asked her class to name as many fish as they could. So they listed Galjoen, Hake, Snoek and so on. The list was long but the teacher pushed them a bit saying, "Surely you know more than that coming from fishing families?"

One little boy eventually piped up, "I know one more! Break-vis."

During a geography lesson she asked the class to think of places that began with letters in the alphabet, but the class struggled with "f" until some bright spark volunteered "f-lone."

Sermon: wives and husbands

I found Sarah’s comments on the lectionary helpful. Please take moment to read her piece.

Ephesians 5:21-33 has been used to justify the hierarchical arrangement of family life, with the husband as head and the wife as second-in-command. It has been used to justify the deliberate oppression of women in other spheres of life too. Sarah reminds us that this is based on a mistranslation of the original text.

Take, for instance, the New American Standard Version, which places verse 21 (“Submit to each other out of reverence for Christ”) as the concluding line of the previous section which deals generally with how the community should behave with each other. It then inserts a heading and proceeds with the first line of this new section being “Wives submit to your husbands.”

Here are the two ways of rendering the translation of Ephesians 5:20-22:
New American Standard

“…always giving thanks for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father; and be subject to one another in the fear of Christ.
Heading: Marriage Like Christ and the Church
Wives, be subject to your own husband, as to the Lord.”

New Revised Standard Version

“…giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Heading: The Christian Household
Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.
Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord.”

The effect in the NRSV is to make verse 21 the introduction of the section dealing with wives and husbands, so that the idea Paul is talking about here is about being mutually subject to one another in marriage. He then goes on to explain this in detail for wives and then husbands. We are talking about nothing less than a feminist agenda nearly 2000 years before the Suffragettes contemplated it.

It is interesting that Paul uses more space to explain this idea to husbands than to wives. As Sarah reminds us, boys grow up into power, assuming leadership and decision making with relative ease because they are groomed for it. Similarly girls are taught from an early age to be servile. Girls do not easily take on the yoke of power, and wear it uncomfortably when they do. Similarly, boys struggle with humility and serving others. Paul knew this and so spent a little more time explaining this radical idea of mutual service to men who need a little remedial work where humility is concerned. He didn’t spend much time explaining it to wives, as he assumed they were already accomplished. Paul compares the submission of husbands to that of Christ, who, though Divine, humbles himself and becomes a servant of his own creation, even being prepared to die for his beloved.

The other lectionary reading for this week is John 6:60-69, where Jesus challenges those who find his teaching difficult. It is no wonder that at this point in Jesus ministry people are disappearing back home, no longer able to sustain the hard choices he exacts of his disciples. No wonder! Jesus asks of the 12 if they too will leave and Peter responds, “To whom else can we turn?” An interesting response…

Sarah recalls the story of one of Peter’s first encounters with Jesus. He was fishing that day but had had no luck; his nets always empty. Jesus came near on the beach and shouted to the men in the boat to cast their net on the other side. This would have involved rearranging the configuration of men and nets, a tedious process which would go against the grain as these men would have developed an habitual tendency to use one side of the boat. But eventually realising they had nothing to lose they did so. Suddenly, they cannot find enough hands to bring up the net now heavily laden with fish.

Peter caught a glimpse of what Jesus was offering.

“In other words, in one moment the big question on Peter's mind changed from ‘Will I catch enough fish today to survive?’ to ‘Can I gather enough people to take in all of this abundance?’ That's what made Peter a fisher of people.” (Breuer).

Peter went from the anxiety of his poverty to seeing how this poverty might be reversed. It was this that made him follow Jesus. He wanted a society in which he and people like him, no longer had to look forward to a lifetime of drudgery. This was the reason so many women followed Jesus, because he offered them the “good news” that the oppression they had suffered for so long could be reversed. It is why, even today, the church is still one of the few places where women are over-represented – because here they can exercise power in ways (almost / sometimes / should be) equal to men.

To follow Jesus is always to engage with the possibility of making a world that is more just. But it is always premised on the change beginning personally. If I want to see change in the world, I must be ready to change my own heart.

Peter and his men had to overcome their habits to cast the net on the other side. Then he had to give up his livelihood and spend long months away from his family. Several times he had to completely re-evaluate his world-view. Even after he became the Rock on which Jesus built the church we find Peter caught in a radical realignment of his prejudices as Paul and others force him to grapple with the Gentile question. Eventually, even Peter, the conservative Jew, dispenses with the requirements Jewish law and Gentiles become equal citizens in God’s Kin-dom.

Becoming a Christian is not about arriving. It is about starting a journey in which every day challenges one’s perceptions, habits and prejudices. One can never become comfortable. But the energy for this process of constant revision is afforded by the hope that the world these changes are making is a world worth living in.

Frentik

I've been swamped and finding it difficult to reflect on life, let alone write.

For those who read this blog, I want to ask your thoughts and prayers for SHADE as it approaches Jamboree V. It is a stressful time and as always, we are short of money.

Also, please remember the Methodist Church. The debate about same-sex unions has become intense with Parliament discussing a Civil Union's Bill. Our Executive have ruled against any minsiter conducting a marriage ceremony for gay or lesbian couples. We intend to protest, and if necessary to defy this ban.

Gun Free SA has been working hard at making sure the Firearms Controll Amendment Bill does not weaken the Act. So far we've been relatively successful, but it strains the organisation's resources at a time we need to be focussing on community work. GFSA also needs to raise a wopping R600 000 to finish the year.

Mmmm, where'd I leave that Lotto ticket...

Cowboys don't cry

This sad story comes from Yvette:

Recently she was driving through to one of the service centres of Yabonga with a colleague when they happened upon a man running toward Jooste Hospital pushing a wheelbarrow. In the wheelbarrow, they could see someone covered by a blanket. They stopped to offer assistance but by the time they had turned around and met up with the man again, staff from the hospital - who must have been alerted by someone else - had already arrived and were helping out.

Yvette’s colleague found this incident sad and wept openly.

He then confessed that he used to work for an undertaker where he was also a driver, ferrying coffins between churches and graveyards. It was a well-paid job, which he was sad to lose. Apparently he was asked to leave because he would cry at the funerals. He found them terribly sad, even though he did not know the person being buried.

I guess that wouldn’t work… the undertaker crying…

Hot water!

Check out Magali's comment for June 06. She sent me a pic of her geyser. Anyone prepared to venture the depreciation on Magali's house as a result of this terrible happenstance?

Check out Wikipedia's excellent article on synchronicity.

One of the most important aspects of my job, is creating significance from seemingly meaningless events, so I take a perverse interest in how human minds recognise patterns - even when patterns aren't actually there.

For instance, people need comfort when grieving and the natural temptation is to resort to the stories of my tradition, like heaven and "God's will". Thus we impose a pattern on a person's life which makes sense of their death. The problem is that the patterns can be more disturbing than comforting: God's will becomes God's punishment.

I prefer to think of life as chaotic and unpredicatable. Coincidences, like Magali's geyser, serve only to illustrate for me how chaotic the world is and how absurd our pattern recognition system can be if we look for patterns without consistency.

The essential thing about being human is choice. Our freedom means we can overcome the chaos of life. But this means being consistent in our choices. By such consistency, I impose upon the world an order. It is a tiny - no, puny - order; a logic which is completely overwhelmed by the magnitude of the universal stream of chaos.

And yet, it is significant. How? The scientific endeavour is a clear example of how the cumulative weight of thousands of tiny, logical efforts has been able to offer humanity the chance at controlling the chaos. Democratic (more than just the ballot) process also demonstrates a remarkable power to "change" history.

If there is a mysterious power at work in the universe, we don't need to alarmed. It is not in bar-codes and 6 coloured rainbows. No, this power is human and the results are far more surprising! What do these numbers mean to you? To me they represent the ingenuity and resilience of the human animal:

1994 Year of South Africa's freedom
1919 Year of the creation of the formula for the chlorination of drinking water
2003 Year of the newest democracy on earth: East Timor
299,792,458 Speed of light in metres per second
3.14159 26535 89793 23846 26433 83279 50288 41971 69399 37510 Pi

Fear

I thought Ze's missive on the recent Heathrow scare a timely wet blanket on the hype. All the inconvenience aside, let's be realistic about what we need to be afraid of. Who are you more afraid of, the fundamentalists in Iran who might be starting a nuclear arms programme or the US Senate, many of whom believe that Israel's recent war on Lebanon is a precursor to the Second Coming and who have their collective finger hovering over a button that controls the biggest nuclear arsenal in the world?

In My Name

We’re using the Heartlines series on SABC as a discussion focus for the confirmation class. This week’s episode is about Faith who comes from rural Natal to Jo’burg after her mother’s death. She comes hoping to earn enough to pay for her sister’s tuition at school. She prays fervently for success but ends up being raped and losing her job cos she was away from work recovering. She ends up being taken in by a Chinese man who helps her recover her hope and she in turn helps him. Because of her ordeal she finds leaving the little shop, where she lives and works with Mr. Lin, impossibly frightening. She becomes trapped in the shop because of her fear.

The scene that seems to me the centre of the story is powerfully symbolic, though I’m not sure if the writers intended it this way. She is cleaning the shop when a pigeon flies in. It is trapped and panics, fluttering across the delicate china on the shelves. Eventually Faith manages to catch the pigeon and slowly walks out with the bird in her hands. When she releases it with a smile on her face, she only then realises that she has walked quite some distance beyond the safe confines of her prison. Though she flees, panic-stricken back into the shop, the healing has begun.

It seems to me that this is metaphor for prayer and an answer to the theodicy question (“Why does God allow suffering?”). In order for God to love, God must be vulnerable, for love by its definition, requires vulnerability. One cannot love someone who is impregnable. One can only love that which one is capable of hurting. So, by creating humans who can love, God creates the possibility of God’s own destruction. God is trapped. God is like the pigeon in the china shop and the only person who can set God free is the one who is trapped there too.

As Faith walks out the shop to her freedom – and the pigeon’s freedom – it is difficult to distinguish whose freedom is being won and who is doing the liberation. In fact, it seems more appropriate to say that Faith and the pigeon need each other.

And so it is with God and humanity.

Jesus says, “Whatever you ask in my name, God will grant you.” We ignore the phrase “in my name” too easily or we make it a rubber stamp on the prayers we send to heaven as if the right postage stamp will guarantee the success of our supplication.

Jesus is asking us to do something very specific. For the ancients a name was the sum of a person’s character. Jesus’ name in Hebrew (Yeshua) means Saviour / Salvation / Redemption / Freedom. When Jesus asks us to pray in his name, he is asking us to pray in that character - the way he lived his life. Prayer is not what we do before a meal or before bedtime, or a superstition to garner God’s favour, or a shopping list of our fears and dreams. I

Prayer is a life lived for freedom – ours and God’s.

Guerrilla Eucharist

Read John 6:24-35

There is an old piece of Jewish humour that tells of a man who had dinner at a restaurant where he ordered the soup of the day. It came with two slices of bread. After his meal the owner of the restaurant came and enquired about his meal. “Lovely,” said the man, “But I would have preferred more bread.”

The next day, the man came back to the restaurant and the owner, recognising this strange patron, made sure that when the man ordered the soup of the day, he had four slices of bread next to his soup. When he checked in with the man at the end of his meal, the man replied, “Lovely as always but, again, not enough bread.”

The owner was perplexed but determined to satisfy his customer, so when the man returned the following day he was prepared. He had asked the bakery to bake two special loaves of bread and when the man ordered the soup of the day, it was placed before him with these two fresh loaves on either side of the bowl. He demolished the lot. The owner approached, confident he had finally done his patron proud. He asked after the man’s meal.

“Lovely,” came the reply, “But I see you have gone back to giving me two pieces of bread.”

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I like the “I am” sayings in John’s story of Jesus for their rich symbolic depth. But I like the John 6 saying most of all because it is Jesus at his most Buddhist. His conversation with the weary seekers who have followed him all over Galilee reminds me of a Buddhist master at his most oblique. Jesus offers smoke and mirrors for their concrete questions.

In Buddhism there is a concept called Tanha, which translated literally means thirst. Its technical usage in Buddhism can mean desire, craving, wanting, longing, yearning, hunger, appetite and so on. The second of the Four Noble Truths describes Tanha as the origin of all suffering. As we seek to fulfil our desires we realise that all satisfaction is impermanent and therefore cannot really satisfy. We may become addicted to transient satisfiers or cynical and jaded, even frustrated, angry and resentful - maybe even murderous.

The third Noble Truth describes the path out of suffering which is to seek that which is permanent. This comes through meditation by which we are enabled to see the permanent things in life.

Jesus says: “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.” Very Buddhist…

In the play A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams, we are introduced to the power of Tanha to destroy. The main character, Blanche DuBois, has a nervous breakdown as a result of her infatuation with her sister’s husband. Blanche travels on a streetcar (tram) called “Desire” in order to get to Stella’s house and this streetcar becomes a symbol of the force that leads to her destruction. Just as her streetcar journey is ultimately doomed, so is her own desire.

It is worth dwelling on that symbol. Desire gives us life and movement. It propels us into new places, friendships, adventures and commitments. All life has desire. Without it, we cease to be alive. And yet, if not held in check, it becomes as destructive as a run-away vehicle, taking us over the edge into our destruction. How closely these three go together: Desire, Life and Death.

Be this as it may, it still seems strange that Jesus replies in the way he does to the faithful who travel so far to be with him. These are poor people, whose last hope is this strange man who listens to their problems and often grants real reversal to their pain and oppression. No doubt they are hungry after chasing all over the countryside for him, hence their question (almost accusation).

So how is it that Jesus be so fuzzy now? (Remember the previous story was the feeding of the 5000) More to the point, how can Jesus be so callous as to suggest that he is the bread these people need in the face of their poverty, when they beg him to use his power to reverse their plight?

But then we should also ask, how can we, who follow Jesus down the generations, hold aloft a morsel of bread in the face of global hunger and proclaim it as this world’s salvation?

“I am the Bread of Life.” Indeed! What arrogance!

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Satisfaction is not guaranteed. In fact the reverse is guaranteed. Even if all the hunger in the world were satisfied, it would not be enough, we would want more…

This is not to say we shouldn’t fight poverty, but we will not succeed if we think we can solve global poverty by only feeding hungry people. We need to address the cause of hunger - the cause of poverty - and that is greed: the insatiable desire for more…

And so in the face of global hunger a morsel is the answer. You will be satisfied when you control your desires, rather than they control you. It is by disciplining our cravings that we approach the mystery of God and consequently, the possibility of righting the world’s injustice. The ultimate answer to world hunger is not in providing food, but in curtailing greed.

So the church should be teaching the rich to fast, and teaching the poor to speak up about the fast they are forced to endure. The poor who are the majority in almost every country of the world need to be shown the power of that morsel. Imagine the poor churches of our country celebrating communion with those tiny wafers in front of the opulence of Parliament, or shopping centres where the wealthy wallow in a glut of consumerism. Imagine them wearing filthy rags and parcelling out those tiny sips of wine, while all around them in the busy intersection luxury vehicles pass by brimming with suits. How about a communion service on pension day at the welfare office, where the bread is replaced by the slip of paper each pensioner signs to receive his or her measly allowance? What about a communion service at a fine restaurant where the celebrants ask for the waiters to bring them wafers instead of the main course? Maybe you have an idea. Rise up and spread the Word…

The Adventure is Now

Read Mark 6:30-56

The disciples return from what must have been a fascinating and arduous trip around Israel, performing the tasks that Jesus had set for them. Jesus’ sending of the disciples was last week’s reading and it has been on my mind, especially the bit where he tells the disciples that if they are not welcomed into a town, they should wipe the dust from their feet and go on. I’ve spent the past week in Namibia – a very dusty place. I received the most fabulous welcome from the men in Oshakati where I attended a workshop on masculinity. Our adventure in Namibia was wonderful and I have yet to wipe the dust off my boots, which remain scuffed and soiled under my Sunday best!

As with other adventures of this sort, I find I need time to assimilate and make sense of what has happened – I feel the need to retreat and dwell upon its significance. Perhaps the disciples felt the same way on their return, but they are instead plunged into a bizarre situation of having to feed more then five thousand people. My life is a little like that – I seldom have (or take) the time to reflect upon my experience.

Socrates said that the “unexamined life is not worth living.” How true. When our busyness prevents us from living in the present, we are not really living at all.

I found, even on our adventure, I was constantly focused on the future. “When we get there…” I wondered how the workshop would go. At the workshop I was looking forward to the adventure in the desert. In the desert I looked forward to being at home. And now I wonder what happened. Because I wasn’t really there. William, my fellow traveler, had an expression he used a few times on the trip: “The adventure begins now.” I want to live like that – in the now.

I have lived my life with a refrain at the heart of my being: “What is real?” It is has energized all my pursuits. It comes out in some of the stuff I have blogged here about Myth. In a story like the one in our text today, the same question may be asked: Jesus divides a handful of bread and fish into a feast for more than five thousand, he walks on water and heals people. What is real?

Our experience in Namibia taught me a little more about what is real. We got stuck for nearly three days in a river called the Guandegab (which is now a swearword in my dictionary). When they say that 4x4s are a good idea in Namibia, this is a very true saying. A motorbike fairs rather poorly in loose sand. We had to wait through the long hot day for the cool night when the sand is slightly firmer and the bikes could get traction. There was nothing to do, but wait. I couldn’t plan, I couldn’t act. Eventually day-dreaming also ends and one… is. I noticed the lizard nearby dancing his strange press-ups on diagonally opposing feet, so that the feet in the air can cool off. I noticed how still the leaf lies, infrequently gently stirred by a breeze out of nowhere, going nowhere. I was me. I was real. Just a few precious moments, I was present. I was alive.

The disciple’s didn’t get their opportunity to reflect, to rest. They were plunged back into the demanding tasks of compassion. When I returned from Namibia, there has been little opportunity to reflect, to rest. The daily tasks of life pursue me. I remember thinking in the desert, how nice it would be to hold Katie again. I remember how before I went to Namibia, I had been thinking, how nice it will be to have a break from Katie. Constantly living in the future, I had stopped living and am in danger of addiction to a future that never arrives.

The question of reality took a surprising twist when I got home and read Peter Wood’s blog about Velveteen Rabbit - a true story :-) – a favourite of Peter’s and mine. It was a fortuitous stumble. It reminded me that reality is more than just me.

That precious moment of drying out in the desert was not the only me. Me was also back home in Katie and Yvette’s heart. Me was also in the hearts of all my friends and family. Me is also in the heart of my enemy. I am not merely a “skin encapsulated ego” (Alan Watts) but also the being that is part of others, what they know of me, and what we share.

Real is when we stop the hurry of our fast-food life and listen to our souls. But real is also when we stop and love.

So I won’t clean my boots for a while, I like them real…

Sermon Ordinary Time July

Read: Mark 6:1-13

When I was exploring becoming a minister, I signed up to become a Local Preacher. Part of the process is that the Local Preacher’s Quarterly Meeting interviews prospective candidates. In those days, the deliberations about each candidate were held in camera, the candidates awaiting their fate outside the meeting. At the time that I applied, my parents had just gone through a divorce and our conservative congregation was rife with the hot gossip that Mom had left because of being a lesbian. Inside the meeting someone asked, “How can Greg be a preacher when he comes from a family like that?”

Fortunately for me, Rev. John Borman, who was chairing the meeting, flinches at nothing. I am told that he responded: “If you’ve been around as long as I have, you will know that the most beautiful lilies grown on the foulest dung heaps.”

I was accepted as preacher and started the long journey that brings me here. I wonder what would have happened, had I heard that question myself, instead of second hand some years later. I wonder what would have happened, if John had not stood up for me.

I wonder how many great people have been imprisoned by prejudice, stunted by their parents, their village or their friends. In this country particularly, what greatness lies buried behind mounds and mounds of destructive judgements.

Understanding Jesus’ situation a little better can help make the greatness possible…

Jesus is labelled the “son of Mary”. Not, on the face of it, a slight, but remember we are talking about 1st century Palestine where one was more usually referred to as a son of one’s father. Jesus’ father is in question. No doubt, if Mary had shared her story, that Jesus had been conceived by God, she would have been seen as a nutter. In all likelihood, Jesus’ father was simply not known. What was known, was that it wasn’t Joseph. And so every time a villager met Jesus they were reminded that he was a bastard.

The villagers also ask, “Where did this man get all this?” I am reminded by Sarah Breuer of the nature of this question in her reflection on the lectionary this week.

The culture of Jesus’ day, more so than Western culture today, was influenced by what anthropologists call “limited good”. The idea is simply that resources are limited and in order for their to be an abundance in one place, there has to be a scarcity elsewhere. But this applies equally to ideas, skills, values and so on, not just physical resources.

So the question from the villagers is actually, “How did Jesus come to have so much?” Their jealous question implies some illicit activity by which Jesus comes to his power. Perhaps he has stolen these ideas, perhaps the power he has comes from a nefarious source.

Not only is Jesus a bastard, he is also a thief. Can anything good come from this man? How can he be a teacher?

But Jesus is not held back by such ideas, on the contrary, we see him continue all the way to Jerusalem. What enabled him to rise above these conceptions? I don’t think this was the first time he had encountered such prejudice. Growing up in Nazareth it is easy to see how he may have been conditioned to believe these ideas about himself. On the other hand he may rebelled, in the way that we often do, a reactionary and futile attempt to stand up against the labels; labels we have secretly absorbed too deeply.

Jesus was able to rise above this because he was given - or knew - a different perspective. He believed in the generosity of God. He was not inviting people to help him divide up a limited pie, he was inviting people to a banquet so large that it might spoil for want of more people to enjoy it.

So Jesus invited prisoners, the sick, the poor and hungry to be part of the feast. He commits the double felony of claiming authority and power and then giving it to misfits. As everyone knows, prisoners deserve to be punished for their crimes, God punishes the sick for the sins of the fathers and those who are hungry and poor should get a job.

I have witnessed through the work of SHADE how women who have been told their place –and kept there with violence - from the day they were born have risen above this dominating oppression. They have not given in, nor have they merely rebelled, they have risen above it. And it is amazing how much they have accomplished with seemingly few resources. Liberation has a way of multiplying resources and making new things possible.

What have you come to believe about yourself as a result of the lifelong training you have received in the world? What picture of yourself is Jesus inviting you to appreciate?

Prison Break

To truly be alive, requires risk; the risk to relate, to be vulnerable, to journey, to believe. But to risk requires volition and we are not always free to exercise our will. Trapped by circumstance, fear, oppression, our past or a myriad of other prisons, we cannot make the decisive move. Freedom is a grace won at great cost. I think of the freedom of 1994 and what it cost. A woman sacrifices security and status to ditch an abusive husband. A man gives up his job to follow his heart. A child grieves a broken past and becomes an adult. But once freedom has been won, we have the energy to risk. And so we live.

Risk is dangerous and freedom is expensive. Prison is death.

Katie, Phoebe and I run past a house every day that has a big rottweiler and two small terriers in the yard. Every day, the big roti barks like crazy (and Phoebe goads him). The little dogs follow suit. As we run past, the roti gets more and more agitated and frustrated because he can’t get past the fence. Eventually he takes out either one the terriers closest at the time. When the roti turns back to the fence the little terrier is even more angry and crazy, having been beaten up, but aims all that animosity at Phoebe.

They said it

In the side bar you'll see a link to uMunthu Psychology. You may want to visit it occasionally as Chiwoza is starting to write... At the moment, Chiwoza's field of interest is why people in Malawi engage in risk bahviour even when they know it is dangerous. Obviously this has important implications for Afrrica's struggle against HIV. So keep your eye on that space...

Restless Rock has produced a flood of refelections on death. Sounds grim, but check it out. It left me feeling hopeful.

And if you need some light relief with satircal overtones and a dash of cynicism, don't forget Ze Frank...

Points Political to Ponder from Pres. Katie

I have been told that the world is producing too many girl children because apparently our environment is flooded with oestrogen. Wouldn't that be great. Obviously the scientists who concluded this never studied my family. This is a photo of my latest cousin Jonah Don born yesterday. I am now hopelessly outnumbered but this raises a very important political point. The ubiquitous presence of maleness should present no problem to the ambitious female. When surrounded, simply climb higher… It is particularly important when doing so that one is not held back by the fear of others. Here you can see how, despite my subject's obvious discomfort, I have not shied away from my desire to avoid the stairs. This takes courage and conviction, but the rewards are many, as the triumphant will always take the glory. So, welcome Jonah, your brother Llew will show you where to stand in the pecking order...

Skin Hunger

Whenever Jesus healed he touched. Given the society he lived in the most extraordinary part of these healings is that he touched. He touched women – something a Rabbi was not supposed to do. He touched women who were haemorrhaging – making himself ritually unclean. He touched people with skin diseases – who had been kicked out of their families and villages, forced to live in the wilderness.

Ever wondered why we shake hands? I like the explanation offered by some evolutionary biologists. Our ape ancestors needed to mark their territory but marking one’s territory is a problem when you live in a tree. So instead of using faeces and urine, like so many other mammals, apes use secretions on their hands and feet which automatically mark the trees they are climbing in. This is why your hands often sweat when the rest of you doesn’t or why our feet smell. Shaking hands is throw back to a time we marked our territory with our hands and bonded with family members by sharing our smell.

Shaking hands is like saying: “You and I belong together.”

The movie Fisher King is a modern retelling of the fable in which a prince discovers the importance of touch. The prince goes into the wilderness to test his courage and had a vivid dream in which he sees the Holy Grail surrounded by flame. When he reaches out to grab it, the flames burn him. When he wakes, the wound is real but the Grail is gone. He becomes King but is consumed by his wound and one day in desperation returns to the wilderness to try resolve his pain. Lying in the wilderness, delirious and dying of thirst, he is met by the Court Jester who asks him, “Tell me what I can do for you.” The King replies: “I am thirsty.” So the Jester pulls a chipped wooden cup from his bag and offers it to the King filled with water. As the King reaches for the cup he sees that it is the Holy Grail. He realises that it is not the jewel-encrusted treasure of his previous vision that he needs, but rather the battered old cup offered in the hands of compassion.

Not all touch is good. People who are fighting are touching. Sexual and physical abuse uses touch to injure deeply. Sometimes we refer to people with mental illness as “touched”. But appropriate touch is very important to humans. To loose touch is to cease being human. Touch is literally and matter of life and death.

In old age homes I have hear the term “skin hunger” to describe the peculiar loneliness of people in homes like these. Skin Hunger… We need to be touched.

Rene Spitz in 1945 studied infants in a South American orphanage that were starved of physical contact. Because the staff were under resourced they simply did not have the time to cuddle the babies. Despite having enough nourishment and medical care, a third of the children he studied died for want of a hug. The survivors remained permanently psychologically damaged.

Think of the people who need your touch. Remember the people who touch you. Which people are you afraid to touch, or are you not allowed to touch? Who do you long to be touched by?

When I baptised my first child I remember the sheer terror I felt having to hold this fragile being. I saw myself as incapable of holding something so precious. Deep down I didn’t think I was good enough. That child and the trust of his parents healed me. Nobody knew it, but that touch healed me.

Sermon 25 June Ordinary Time

Read Mark 13:1-8
Inspired by Ted Jennings’ “Insurrection of the Crucified”
Some illustrations from eSermons

This picture has circulated for many years and demonstrates how difficult it is to predict the future. Can you spot Bill Gates? Who would have guessed what Microsoft would become when this picture was taken?

Thomas Watson, chairman of IBM, in 1943 said, "I think there is a world market for maybe five computers."

Popular Mechanics magazine in 1949 made this prediction: "Where a calculator on the ENIAC is equipped with 18,000 vacuum tubes and weighs 30 tons, computers in the future may have only 1,000 vacuum tubes and weigh only 1.5 tons."

There was an inventor by the name of Lee DeForest. He claimed that "While theoretically and technically television may be feasible, commercially and financially it is an impossibility."

The Decca Recording Co. made a big mistake when they made this prediction: "We don't like their sound, and guitar music is on the way out." That was their prediction in 1962 concerning a few lads form Liverpool. Their band was called the Beatles.

As Jesus and his friends walk out of the Temple in Jerusalem, Jesus makes a startling prediction: that the Temple will be destroyed.

As we watch the World Cup being played in huge stadiums let’s remember the impressiveness of Herod’s Temple. The smallest stones in the structure weighed 2 to 3 tons. Many of them weighed 50 tons. The largest existing stone is 12 meters in length and 3 meters high (that’s about as big as this church!), and it weighed hundreds of tons! The stones were so immense that neither mortar nor any other binding material was used between the stones. Their stability was attained by the great weight of the stones. The walls towered over Jerusalem, over 120 metres in one area. Inside the four walls was 45 acres of bedrock-mountain shaved flat and during Jesus' day a quarter of a million people could fit comfortably within the structure. No sports structure in that I know of today comes close.

Is it any wonder his friends were startled by Jesus’ prediction? Actually, yes. Such predictions had been made by others already – it wasn’t news. Jeremiah made the prediction a long time before Jesus and many other pretenders to the title Messiah were making similar predictions at the time of Jesus, so it is strange that the disciples are surprised by this news.

Unless, of course, we have misinterpreted the text. Let’s look at the context. In the conversation between Jesus and his friends that continues up on the Mount of Olives, his friends ask him about the signs of the future apocalypse. Jesus responds by warning them about false prophets who make these kind of predictions about “The End”, of which the Temple’s destruction is one.

Far from making predictions about the future Jesus is commenting on the present. He uses a pat phrase mumbled by doomsday prophets to illicit a conversation about their theology and he shows up the dependency his friends have developed for such apocalyptic nonsense. One can almost sense how they hang on his every word hoping he will fuel their curiosity, provide some glimpse of a secret future where only they will be victorious. Jesus friends would have been the first to read Dan Brown’s sensational “ The Da Vinci Code” or Hal Lindsay’s “Late Great Planet Earth”. The disciples are not surprised by the news of the Temple's destruction; they are surprised and even curious that Jesus would agree with the messianic pretenders. Now they want the insider information.

Draw back a little further and the context becomes even more illuminating. Jesus and his friends have come all the way from Galilee to Jerusalem for the show down with the authorities. For these country bumpkins a visit to the Temple must have been like my first visit to the Empire State Building. But maybe even more important: remember the Temple was the bedrock of their faith; the hub of their culture; the residence of God.
When they arrive in Jerusalem, they go straight to the Temple. Jesus guides them to the Temple treasury of all places. There they witness an interesting thing. Wealthy people are bringing their donations to the Temple with great fanfare and acclaim. Kind of like the handover of those ridiculously large corporate cheques made out to worthy causes you seen in the papers every now and then.

But then along comes a bent and battered woman, unnoticed were it not for Jesus. She carries her last resource and offers it willingly and without any acknowledgment.

Then the band of rural homeboys wanders outside and the disciples look up at the towering Temple: “Look at those stones! Look at the magnificent architecture!” How cold those words feel in the face of her suffering. Not only are the disciples hungry for sensationalist futurology but they have completely lost the point of devotion to God.

I used to think that the story of the Widows Mite was there to encourage Christians to give sacrificially. I now understand that Jesus was touched by this woman because of the sadness of her situation, having been bled dry by the Temple bureaucracy because of a misplaced faith in the institution which completely ignores her. The story is there to warn us against the blasphemy of thinking that the Temples we build on the backs of the poor have anything to do with God. They are devil’s work – all the more sinister because of a theological façade.

In the Hobbit by JRR Tolkein, Bilbo Baggins has met Gollum for the first time. Bilbo is lost and needs to find his way out of Gollum's cave. Gollum will show him the way out if he can answer a riddle.

This thing all things devours,
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stone to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.

Bilbo is stumped. He doesn't know the answer to the riddle and after being pressured by Gollum says, "Give me time." Gollum hears the word "time" and mistakenly takes it as Bilbos answer, which of course is right.

When Jesus predicted the destruction of the Temple, he was not predicting the particular event which eventually happened in 70 CE when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and flattened the Temple. In fact he was warning people that all things come to an end, even the supposedly timeless institutions we create for ourselves. I guess that Jesus was in fact rejoicing that this terrible affront to God’s compassion would one day be destroyed.

But if we are impressed with the stature of the Temple and its destruction, there is a far more impressive institution that exists today. There is an institution today, which boasts an income and supports a staff thousands of times bigger than the Temple. It owns more land in the world than any other single institution. It is by far the wealthiest, it affects the lives of more people and is owned by not one single person. I am talking about the Church – the global church.

Such a mammoth enterprise requires considerable financial support. In order to support our buildings and our ministers we must guarantee a solid financial income. While we say that everyone has the same worth, practically speaking those who are wealthy are worth more, because they support the church to a greater extent – or at least, that’s what we think. In fact it is the combined mass of donations given by the poor, like the widow, that creates the church. This giving far outweighs the contributions of the wealthy.

The wealthy are duped into believing that their 1% of gross income is significant while the poor are duped into believing that their tiny mite is enough to please a forgiving God. To have poor, you must have rich and so the Church has historically supported the structuring of society that makes for poor people.

It is this foundation, built on the backs of the poor that is the Church’s final and most terrifying sin. And who is the Church? All of us… When we use our wealth to justify a structure that breaks the back of the poor we are complicit in their suffering. When we know what is happening but do not speak up, we are complicit in their suffering.

Jesus’ words are clear: “It will be destroyed.” Time will consume even the Church.

I am not suggesting that to give to the Church is bad. But I am suggesting that devotion for the Church is misplaced. Devotion to Jesus is all that makes sense. When we give our money we must give it to places and people that need it. When we give our money our hands must follow, for it is our compassion that matters more. Our money should be but a sign that we are prepared to give our lives with singular devotion to the cause of Christ.

Anything less, and we’re just building temples…

A Myth

Maria was thinking about an abortion. She was pregnant with a child she couldn’t afford by a man she knew didn’t care. The humiliation of her poverty was exacerbated by the burden of her decision: the guilt of even considering it. She met someone who cared. They talked. And Maria came to realise that this child was precious to her. She couldn’t let it go. On the eve of her abortion she decided to keep her baby. Her “angel” assured her of God’s love. Her child became a joy to many, an inspiration and there were always people around to help…

Matthew 1:18 (NJB) “This is how Jesus Christ came to be born. His mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph; but before they came to live together she was found to be with child…”

Comment

Check out Ze's comment on Bush's visit to Iraq:
http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/06/061506.html

And Brandan's comment on Youth Day:

HE

“Little girls do not invent games where large numbers of people die, where blood shed is a prerequisite for having fun. Hockey was not a feminine creation. Nor was boxing. A boy wants to attack something – and so does a man, even if it’s only a little white ball on a tee. He wants to whack it into kingdom come.” John Eldredge in Wild at Heart

In church yesterday, I asked some of the kids what kind of games they play. Lisa said she plays with her little horses. She grooms them, feeds them and talks to them. Jean-Pierre likes snakes and ladders. What does he like most about it? “Winning!”

I think of masculinity and femininity as poles on a spectrum. Most people have a mixture of both, while tending toward one pole more than the other. I am not sure whether this is because of the way we are raised or whether this is genetic. From what I’ve read, I think it’s a bit of both.

One thing I am sure of is that the culture I was raised in has failed to control, let alone understand, masculinity. It is why men outnumber women in prison but women outnumber men in church.

I grew up believing that my maleness was a handicap, something I had to control, rein-in lest it get out of hand and I become a rapist or start a war. I became desperately afraid of my feelings, my passion. But fear does not make these things go away, no matter how hard one tries to bury them. In fact, ones passion simply becomes uncontrolled, leading to any number of problems: addiction, violence, misogyny and other anti-social pathologies, or panic attacks, suicide and depression.

Yesterday was Father’s Day – my second one as a new Dad. It has become a very significant day for me – not because I get spoilt by Katie and Yvette, much as I like that – but because I met my Dad on Father’s Day in 1993. There is something words cannot plumb about an experience as visceral as discovering who your parents are. I have known Mom since I was born, but meeting Dad (particularly because I am a man) was like looking at an older version of me. An older version… It occurred to me that I do get to choose something of how I will turn out. What kind of man will I be? What kind of father, husband, friend, colleague? Father’s Day get’s me thinking about that.

I grew up believing that men must be tamed otherwise they become a danger to society. More recently, I have become convinced that this is exactly what we shouldn’t be doing. To tame a lion means caging it. A caged lion becomes at once two things: dead and frighteningly unpredictable. A caged man is no different.

Too many wives complain about passionless marriages, husbands who are absent in everything but their bodies – and even these have become pale shadows of former glory. Too many times I hear people gasp in surprise that the paedophile or serial rapist was such a fine upstanding man in the community. No one saw it coming.

There is something dangerous and frightening about a man. But to tame a man is asking only trouble – or at best it is asking for that man’s death. There is a wildness that needs expression. There is an energy that needs an outlet. But how to do so in healthy ways?

In my bike circle recently, we talked about knives. Not kitchen knives. KNIVES. Like that classic scene in Crocodile Dundee when Hogan’s character is held up in New York by a knife wielding street punk. His soon-to-be-girlfriend says, “He’s got a knife!” to which Dundee says: “That’s not a knife, this is a knife.” He draws out his huge Bowie like a sword sending the punk scurrying for his life.

Interesting thing about a knife is that it is more dangerous when it is blunt. One can become unwary with a blunt knife, thinking it is harmless, when in fact it can still cut. Or one has to use one’s own power to compensate for the weakness of the blade, forcing the implement to cut and running the risk of slipping. A sharp knife on the other hand one is immediately cautious of. You trust its sharpness and so don’t overcompensate for it. You use it carefully, only within the limits of one’s own skill.

Masculinity is like that. There are too many blunt men in the world, blunted by patriarchy, violence or the failure of society to channel the dreams of a boy.

There are not enough sharp men in the world. Men whose example might be Jesus: a man who welcomed the caress of an outcast woman, and embraced children scorned by others, but whose rage was sufficient to single-handedly drive out a crowd of ecclesiastical corruption. A man who feared nothing, not even death, dying for his friends.

How do we sharpen the raw, wildness of men that it can become an implement of exquisite beauty wielded by consummate human skill?

First of all we need good role models. We need fathers who live lives of faithfulness and daring; fathers whose word is their bond; who can be trusted. We need fathers who will risk for the sake of a good cause, even if this is unpopular.

Second of all, we need to understand men better. Instead of dealing with men as if they are responsible for all that is wrong in the world, we need to find ways to heal men of their addiction to patriarchy and false ideas of where their power lies. This means healing women of their co-dependent addiction to the same oppressive systems. What we put in its place is not something we can engineer, but something that must be grown organically once we, together, have grieved the loss of our former power; lest we run the risk of replacing one form of domination with another.

Thirdly, we need spaces where men can learn to trust what is inside them; where they can learn again to play, for play is the school of life’s greatest skills.

There are other things we can do, I s’pose, but these occur to me at the moment.

I am reminded again of the story of Narnia in which Aslan the brave lion is described as: "Tame? Why no! He is dangerous... but he is good."

Earth Sandwich

It's been completed...

The first earth sandwich has been created using a baget, or is that a baquet - er... maybe bukwet. World peace now has a chance. And I don't have to travel to Botswana - damn.

http://scourist.com/

Well done.

Books

I am often asked about what books good people are reading. I wouldn't know...

But a friend of mine has some really naughty stuff to read, which I highly recomend. Brilliant idea Gus!!! There's even stuff I've not read.

Man! whose your dealer Dude!

http://www.gruntlebooks.blogspot.com/

Sad Cubed

Yvette says disasters come in three. This week, she seems to be correct.

First Katie bumped her head on a stair. She was very brave. She only cried a little bit. Her Dad didn’t handle it as well, especially the bleeding – the first time she has bled. The people at the emergency room at Claremont Hospital were great and Katie had a great time interacting with them. What a brave girl! They used superglue not stitches. Evertime I look medicine becomes more like car mechanics...

Then I had my spill on the bike. I have recovered fully. Only a slight twinge. And Sermon on a Mount is back to normal too.

Thirdly, we lost Floyd yesterday. I was heading off to work early when I noticed someone parked in the road ahead just outside our flat. The good Samaritan had spotted poor Floyd lying by the side of the road. She must have been hit on the head by a car and killed instantly. She was still warm so it must have happened seconds before I got there. We buried her last night next to the bird bath so she can continue watching the birds… We'll miss you good friend.

Deep Fried Myths

Two posts below are relevant here: the sermon on myths and the bit about 666.

I’ve taken a passing interest in the growing distaste with fast food culture in popular discourse. I remember being appalled watching Super Size Me while eating my Big Mac and fries. More recently, I’ve followed the development of the book Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser into a movie due to be released sometime this year. Schlosser’s book, more than the movie, is a well-researched and compelling indictment of the fast food industry, particularly MacDonald’s. He recently went head to head with a top Mac Exec in the UK, which You Tube has published on the web in three parts. Here are the links:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dclZxxaB6XE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIWmvCaGta4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIWmvCaGta4

Has this stopped me enjoying fast food? No. Am I a hypocrite? Sheesh!!

One thing that strikes me is that if I am tempted to laugh at those afraid of the Myth of 666, I need to bear in mind the power of the Myth of fast food which dominates my life, particularly in moments of weakness when I am too busy, too tired, too hungry to care.

My human brain is far more pliable than I like to admit. Pummelled by a thousand myths a day, I wonder to what extent I am really in control of my life. I get thirsty when I see an ad for coke, even though I can manage no more than a few sips of the stuff before I balk. I find myself dreaming of my own greatness, walking (nay, almost strutting!) with greater confidence after I watch something like Bourne Identity, even while the cynic in my guffaws at my machismo. I walk into a shinny bright techy shop and find it hard not to whip out the plastic to buy that wonderful new gismo that keeps my coffee warm and does my taxes. I walk out again into the Cape rain and the urge has passed – my plastic breathes. A thousand times a day an urge nearly overcomes me - and sometimes does.

It comes out of nowhere and seems to be the heart of me. Mostly I do not bother to notice, but more recently it has intrigued me. I only have a glimmer of an idea where this stuff comes from. I know generally that it is the interaction of my deepest longings with the skilful manipulation built into marketing devices. But more particularly, it would be exhausting to chase every one of these interactions to their source within. And so I ignore, acquiesce or sometimes (rarely) even conquer. Seldom do I seek to understand. Until that happens, I will never be fully in control…

So… I’m struck by the power of myth, illustrated in both the glorious heights to which marketing gurus have taken this art and the extremes of fundamentalism in the world’s faiths. I am sad that the church has so gloriously failed to promote the best myth of all: Jesus. It surely is more healthy, both personally and globally. But we've made it safe and spiritual.

A simple choice: spend some time fasting from hamburgers, reading a little Gospel instead… mmm… make that to go.

Thank God for grace! The grace to recognise my frailty and vulnerability. Grace to find the strength to change my ways.

Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia

That’s the fear of the number 666. Tembo arrived at work today with news that a group in Parow are warning the public about the dangers of this evil day. They are making using a load speaker on the back of a bakkie to educate people about Satan’s mark. How about that…

Check out Land Over Baptist if you are expecting to give birth today. It provides helpful preventive strategies to prevent the birth of the child of Satan.

Spill number 3... er 4? Shit who's counting

Never, never, ever, ever, brake on a manhole cover. This is probably the most important rule in cornering. I now have personal experience to back this rule up. Hopefully I will now take this rule more seriously.

Going to church yesterday, I braked (only slightly) in a corner going maybe 30km/h. Front wheel slipped out and I went down with my leg pinned under the bike. Eina! Note to self: next time get leg away, the bike does not need a soft landing.

One thing I am pleased with is the protection afforded by my chaps. Despite having my leg dragged across 2m of tar under a 300kg weight, I sustained no serious graze except the scratch caused by the denim I was wearing. Denim is bad! It burns. So sucks to all you cowboy haters. I love my chaps! Go chaps go!

I would have liked to post a picture of my bloodied and broken body, but there is really nothing to see. I have a slight limp and my head is a little swollen from all the TLC, thanks to Yvette, Katie and various other generous souls. Of course, if you are still keen to see the body, you can send an email requesting "Body" and I'll gladly oblidge for a small fee. But it may be disapointing what with the cold and all...

Bits and pieces from Cyberspace

Thanks to those who have sent this useful stuff. I share it here for your edification...

Check out pandora.com for creating your own radio station with only the music you like.


The man on the left, wearing a fabulous vintage chiffon-lined Dior gold lame gown over a silk Vera Wang empire waisted tulle cocktail dress, accessorized with a 3-foot beaded peaked House of Whoville hat, along with the ruby slippers that Judy Garland wore in The Wizard of Oz, is worried that The Da Vinci Code might make the Roman Catholic Church look foolish.

And then seriously folks: check out Manal and Alaa's Bit Bucket...

Sermon Ascension 2006

Read John 17:11b-19

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more."

These are the words of Macbeth, one of the most famous speeches in Shakespearean literature. He is standing on the battlements of his castle facing his enemy who have gathered in a siege that will end with Macbeth’s death. The story of Macbeth is the story of an ordinary man possessed by the myth of his own fate. When his evil choices open a road to his destruction, he believes himself incapable of changing, unable to prevent the inevitable. It is a terribly macabre tragedy. For many people it is a defining myth about the meaning of life.

Every one lives by a story. Whether it is a tragedy like Macbeth, or a comedy or an adventure, we take for ourselves meaning from it that defines our choices and us. The story might be some personal experience, some idea or something we have read. Whatever its source, the story takes on enormous importance in our lives. It becomes Myth.

Not in the sense of myth = untrue. A myth has power not because it is factual, although it may well be a real historical event. It has power because we choose to believe in it. Myth does not have to objectively true - verifiable – in order to have power. It merely must be believed. Belief is not about saying “it actually happened” but rather about constructing meaning in reference to what we believe happened.

Take for instance the “American Dream” which many people believe in, even non-Americans. It is perpetuated in movies and everything marketed as America, like cigarettes and VCRs. The idea is simple: even if you are poor, if you have a single opportunity and work hard, you will succeed and you will be wealthy. Will this actually happen? Probably not, but the myth is powerful and drives many people’s lives.

There are also Myths that have as much power and are less easily dismissed. And not all Myths should be dismissed. Humans create meaning from stories. It is our nature. Take for instance any worthwhile movie that has touched your life. Saving Private Ryan or Dead Poet’s Society or Tsotsi. I am sure you have one of your own… It may be “based on a true story” but actually that doesn’t matter. Its factual basis is not important. (Although it may help us to “buy in”.) What is important are the values and human drama portrayed with honesty and devotion. It is the connection with your heart that makes the movie special. The movie may well have helped you find some needed perspective or the energy to change some behaviour. The movie has become Myth.

Our own past experiences can also become Myth. A woman raped at a young age may find the buried nightmare unleashes fear and rage in all her relationships. A past failure predestines every future venture. We live (and die) by these past events, which loom over us. Very often the facts of the event become blurred and it is difficult to recall exactly what happened but the emotional content remains powerful and determining. And while these events we can say actually happened, and movies are primarily fiction, this is just commentary. The weight and power of the Myth is not determined by historical reality, but by imagination and emotion. Sometimes a movie can help heal a past personal trauma; a case of one Myth becoming more important than another – and yet movies “aren’t real life”.

An interesting illustration of the power of Myth comes from our own Bible. I learned about this from Walter Wink’s Engaging the Powers.

When the Israelites were taken to Babylon in the 6th century BCE, they found themselves in a terrifying situation. It is something very difficult for us to understand. Everything that they valued, that was precious to them as a people, had been destroyed. They were in a foreign land with no hope of return, surrounded by a strange and threatening culture. Being in the minority they were inundated by Babylonian ideas.

One of these ideas was the Babylonian myth of creation. In this story, there is a battle between the gods in heaven, which eventually results in the murder, and disembowelment of one the gods. As her innards are spilled in a fit of violence, the earth and humanity come into being from her entrails. It is no wonder that the Babylonian empire accomplished such horrific acts of genocide long before that term was coined, given the story of the their origin. Their myth lent legitimacy to their conquering ways.

In order to combat this pervasive propaganda, the priestly remnant of Israel in exile, wrote the story of Genesis 1. Did creation happen exactly this way? Is it historical? Who knows? But it actually isn’t important…

Read the Babylonian myth of creation next to Genesis 1 and notice the startling contradictions. For the Israelites, creation was organised and sensible. At the end of every day of Gods creative process, God says, “It is good!” Creation is loved and blessed. What a sharp contrast!

These myths present us with a choice. Live by the myth of redemptive violence or embrace the myth of creative love. It is ironic that right now the land that gave birth to these myths is embroiled in a daily struggle between these two myths as the USA continues to occupy Iraq.

When Jesus prayed the prayer in John 17, why did he pray for unity? Knowing that he was about to be taken from the disciples, why not pray that someone else would be inspired to take over from him? Why not request a succession plan from God? Why not even ask for someone to write Jesus’ life story down? Instead he prays for unity: “That they may be one, as we are one.”

The idea of the Body of Christ was a stroke of genius. The idea that the collective group of Jesus’ followers become the very presence of Christ in the world after his Ascension accomplishes two critical tasks for the Jesus Movement. Firstly, it means that Christ remains present to the world, despite the absence of his physical body. Secondly, it means that Jesus followers have a means to learn and continue learning all that Jesus taught. The Word remains flesh.

Unity is a difficult aim, as any study of church history will attest. Coming together across ever kind of prejudice and barrier does not come easily to the human race. But when it happens, when people make the effort to cross those barriers – for the love of Christ – they discover the power of diversity. The Gospel comes to life.

The idea of the “Body of Christ” is surely the most powerful Myth ever created for it holds out the promise of peace on earth, and provides a method for achieving it in the example of Jesus.

The story of Jesus comes as a new myth and shatters our allegiance to every other kind of myth. More than that, it infiltrates the false myths that cripple our future and heals of unhealthy attachment to false identity.

As we celebrate Christ’s return to heaven, let us reflect on our commitment to the extraordinary Myth of the Body of Christ to which we belong and which holds the hope of God and the earth. Where our commitment has lagged, or waned, this is an opportunity to recommit ourselves to living out this Myth more fully. Where some prejudice still lingers, some relationship remains estranged, some injury or failure still rules our lives, let us give ourselves, in daily discipline and rejoicing to the Myth that will save the world.

Zefrank

Another one of my favourite weirdoes is a guy called Zefrank. His latest exploit is the Earth Sandwich. It's a brilliant idea... I hope you'll take part...

http://www.zefrank.com/sandwich/

Laughing Inbox

Bumper Sticker in Jozi:
Prevent Aids: Take a shower
Conserve water: Use a Condom

Homemade ZOO:

Points Political to Ponder IV from Pres. Katie

“Give me the friggin’ cell phone!” This is I at a restaurant when the Minister of Sport and Recreation wouldn’t let me have the cell to make a call. Thought I’d post this for my detractors who think I’m just a baby. Grrrr!

They said it better than me

Check out Rock in the Grass for comments on Synod. I am impressed with his ability to suck something good out of a monstrously boring – no, frightening spectacle of ecclesiastical masturbation. The two most exciting moments in Synod were eager, sincere and bright individuals ready to take on the system and another preparing to create a bubble outside the system. As I said, have a look – before I get carried away…

While at Synod, I caught up on some movies I been meanin’ to watch. One was OK, but not worth writing about. The other was brilliant: “Lord of War” It’s a look at the global arms trade. Two scenes stick in my mind. Both are at the beginning, so this isn’t a spoiler.

Yuri Orlov, played by Nicholas Cage, stands on a carpet of bullets surrounded by gutted buildings with the distant sounds of war behind him. He says: “There are 530 000 000 firearms in the world today. That’s 1 gun for every 12 people. The only question is…. How do we arm the other eleven?”

A little disc of mettle is placed on a conveyor belt, proceeds into a press and is punched into a bullet casing. We continue to follow its progress through the factory, strapped to the back of the bullet, into a box full of its compatriots. The box is shipped, smuggled, stolen and eventually lands on a dock somewhere in Africa. We watch as a soldier picks us up, loads us into a magazine – darkness. Sounds of gun fire and we pop up into the barrel, looking down the tunnel into sunlight BANG we’re flying, into the head of a boy SLOP. End.

Amnesty International are punting the film and its definitely worth watching. But get involved… Check out the Million Faces Campaign.

A friend of mine has taken out his frustration with Religious Militarism on a pathetic personality here in Cape Town. He is impersonating “Pastor” Peter Hammond. For the vitriolic rubbish, passing as inspired activism check out the real Peter Hammond. This is definitely not “said better” but then there is Paintball Pete. You may remember that Mr. Hammond was the one who took his children on a paintball rampage last year. His son shot a trick-or-treater from the back seat of the car. And what’s more Hammond and his wife endorsed this behaviour… Sheesh!

Good God Ad

http://www.stillspeaking.com/media/

Have a look at the ads for United Church of Christ in the States. Won't work if you haven't got broadband or lots of free dial-up time.

We've been Zumed

The first trial of Jacob Zuma is over. The verdict is that he is innocent of rape. While I don't understand fully the ins and outs of the legal system, and while I am prepared to trust the judiciary on this fine point, I do think some travesty of justice has been committed. By his own admission, Zuma has abused the trust of his wives, abused the power of his position, both as statesman and as the complainants mentor-"uncle". My abiding image from this trial will be the Zuma supporters outside the court:- African mothers with placards reading: "Rape Me! Rape Me!" Jacob Zuma - 1; Women's rights - o.

Apart from this, Zuma's defense, despite the recent apologies in his televised interview, have set this country back a few years in our work against AIDS. Another speed bump in the government's dealing with this issue.

I leave the final word to "Madam and Eve" :

I love Sow Thefrica

Our friend Renée works for Ons Plek, a shelter for female street children. During the recent blackouts the Ons Plek shelter was plunged into darkness – a scary situation for the only residential house in the middle of the city. Recognising their vulnerability, Renée phoned the City to find out if the blackout was widespread. The operator informed her that people were stealing electricity and so Renée should expect even more “black powers”.

Wind in Betties Bay is a serious problem. The roof of Leopard’s Rest has suffered severe damage over the last few years and Mum called in a structural engineer to assess the damage. As the conversation drifted the elderly engineer waxed lyrical about the state of engineering in the country. We learned that NASA has no black engineers because black people don’t understand straight lines… “I mean, have you ever seen a square hut in the Transkei?”

Yvette had to organise an event for her work recently. The sound was organised by one of her staff who contracted a “DJ Tools” to do music and sound at the event. An hour before the event, DJ Tools hadn’t pitched and Yvette called his cell but it was off. So she called his home and his wife answered: “He’s on his way. He had a problem with the car. The radiator water run away. But he has borrowed the neighbours vehicle.” As she hung up, she saw DJ Tools coming down the road, his sound equipment piled high on a shopping trolley.

Katie Quickie

Katie is almost walking and talking. She stumbles between chairs and tables and walls. She mumbles her own language constantly. And she loves prunes.

She is full of bruises from her constant bumping into various objects. I can't work out if this is because her little body is growing faster that her brain's software can update her internal body map or because she's a slow learner.

She's also sleeping through the night now, even though she's still pretty snotty. And she goes down without the boob. This has caused mixed feelings for the Minister of Environmental Affairs, whose new-found freedom now carries the burden of wondering if she is redundant.

Parenting is a confusing, funny, shocking, roller coaster exercise. All I know for sure right now, is it's fun and Katie loves prunes.