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: