Steps on The Way

Last night I was listening to the radio while getting ready for sleep – in this case not a good idea since it made me waken up and start thinking! Stephen Nolan’s R5Live newspaper review guests were arguing quite aggressively with a caller. The issue was whether or not the Bahrain F1 Grand Prix should take place while pro-democracy protests were being violently suppressed. They said no, and she said yes – if you can race in China with its poor record of human rights then you can race in Bahrain. If sporting links with a state are to be broken then governments should give a lead and advice, and they haven’t yet done so.

Consistently, the studio guests said that with China it is important to be on the inside helping to build relationships. We need to influence political development towards democracy at a time when there is not a full-blown attempted revolution, although there are other human rights issues. The difference with Bahrain is that, with the continuance of the ‘Arab Spring’ and the drive towards democracy in the Gulf, the ruling elite are, at this moment, engaged in the repression of legitimate protest. In the present social ferment the wealthy elite are seeking to use F1 as a showcase to the world that all is well in Bahrain.

I do not claim to have much wisdom to offer, but what struck me about this argument was that both sides were taking a pragmatic stance and neither side was taking a consistent principled stance. For example, if we fast forward to next year’s race, according to the argument of the studio guests as long as the civil unrest in Bahrain had been sufficiently suppressed, (as in China in 1989) so that all was quiet by then, it would be ok for the Grand Prix to take place regardless of how many people have been killed or imprisoned. That does not seem to me to be a workable policy, never mind a moral one.

Perhaps principled stances cannot be applied consistently across global situations because of political realities. But if that’s the case then at least we ought to recognise the fact and try to lay out some kind of guidelines for those seeking to pursue their legitimate business whether sport or not. Both business and sport are political realities: if you don’t do politics you don’t do life. The question for us is not whether or not we can separate sport and politics – we can’t, as has been proved so often. The question is where, when and how are we going to allow sport to be used politically, by us or by others? Debating the issues around this requires the involvement of sporting organisations and politicians. But it also needs input from theologians and ethicists to keep the discussion honest because we know that the lure of money and power are strong influences on our pragmatics.

Some reflections given at today’s vigil at St Peter’s.

St Peter’s Good Friday Reflection 2012
‘Woman, behold your son.’ John 19:27

Family relationships are rarely easy, perhaps particularly those between children and parents. This has been famously expressed by Philip Larkin in ‘This be the verse.’ We’ll miss out the first couple of lines for the sake of discretion, but then he writes:
‘They fill you with the faults they had,
And add some extra just for you.’ And he finishes with the advice not to have any kids yourself.

This scene at the foot of the cross of Jesus does not happen in a vacuum or out of the blue – there is a family background and a social context. In the Gospel of John we do not have the birth narratives that we can romanticise in the way we do with Matthew and Luke, and indeed the Mother of Jesus is not even named in John. She appears in the story of the wedding at Cana in chapter 2, dropping a heavy hint to Jesus that he should do something about the lack of wine. So apparently his Mother believes that he is special, but we have no idea how his Mother projects forward to the outcome of Jesus’ specialness. On the other hand, in chapter 7 his siblings are deeply cynical about Jesus, goading him to go to Judea to see if he can persuade people who are less gullible than Galilean peasants.

And now his Mother stands at the foot of the cross. Whatever outcome she had pictured in her head or hoped for in her heart, this was not it. She had thought that she understood him and his place in the history of God’s people but now she is bewildered. This is disaster; this is desolation and despair. There is pain and shame here, and most importantly there is death. Her firstborn son for whom she had so many hopes is unquestionably about to die. The Romans will see to that. The joy and celebration of the wedding at Cana has evaporated and things have come to this pretty spectacle. This is the end. The end of hopes and dreams for him, and what is going to happen to me?

When we look at this scene not from the foot of the cross but from the cross itself, we find that Jesus, despite the agony of crucifixion, has such lucidity and awareness not only to know that his Mother is present beside him, but that, as her firstborn son he still has a responsibility towards her. There is no doubt that he, the family provider since the death of Joseph, is no longer going to be able to make that provision for her and so he entrusts her care and keeping to one of his dearest followers. It’s the only thing he can do – none of his siblings are nearby.

This saying of Jesus, ‘Woman, behold your Son,’ has an implicit double reference. Jesus’ Mother is to look upon the beloved disciple as her son from now on and in him she is to find her hope for life. But the reason she must do this is because she is beholding her own firstborn son in his final moments upon a Roman cross and, at least for the moment, she must let him go to fulfil his destiny in death.

Was at Craigmillar Park today giving the reflection at the 7.45 Breakfast Service. Here it is.

Holy Week 2012 reflection – Tuesday

The passage we read from John 12 is packed so full of rich theological reflection on the life and mission of Jesus that we could be here all day and only scratch the surface of it. So you will be glad to know that I am only going to mention one point from it, but one that, though it is mentioned less often than many, is a very important observation for people like ourselves.

One of the well known running themes in John is what Jesus calls his ‘hour.’ This hour is the decisive climax of his ministry that leads to his suffering, death and resurrection. In John 2, when his mother asks him to sort out the lack of wine at the wedding in Cana, he says to her, ‘My hour has not yet come.’ Later, as Jesus is facing confrontation in the temple area, the gospel author twice comments that no-one could seize him as his hour had not yet come. Now, Jesus says his hour has come and he unpacks the meaning of this by using the metaphor of the planted wheat seed dying in the ground to produce a great crop. But what is it that causes Jesus to say his hour has come? What happens to make him sure that this is the time?

It is, on the surface, a very simple request from a group of people who want to meet Jesus. The thing is, this is no ordinary group of rural Jewish people or even of the elite classes from Jerusalem. These people are Greeks. We are not told if they are Jews of the diaspora or so called ‘God-fearers’ – non-Jews who were attracted to Jewish faith and life. The implication is that they were the latter. The scenario is that these Greeks come to Philip, a man with a Greek name, asking to see Jesus. Philip goes to Andrew, another man with a Greek name, and the two of them go to tell Jesus. The Greeks then fall out of the narrative altogether, but they have already played their decisive walk-on, walk-off role. They appear out of the blue as if in confirmation of the observation of the Pharisees in the verse immediately prior, ‘Look how the whole world has gone after him.’

The narrative purpose of the Greeks can hardly be overstated: they are a sign of the universal significance of Jesus. Yes, he was a Jewish man of a particular time and he never left a very limited geographical area, but when we read this Gospel with our eyes open we understand that Jesus is God’s man for the world – indeed, God’s Son for the world. Now that the Greeks want to meet him, they also become a sign that this is the time for Jesus to give himself for the world. His hour has very definitely come. The time for global redemption has arrived.

In these Greeks, those of us who follow Jesus and who were not born Jewish can see a reflection of ourselves. He has entranced us as he attracted them. All across the planet people from every tribe and tongue acknowledge him as Lord and although the church in the West is in decline, the world-wide Christian community is growing. It seems after all as if the whole world is going after him.

But the story of the seed reminds us of the cost of salvation for Jews and Greeks alike: the suffering of death before the glory of resurrection. We give thanks to God that his purpose of salvation is global and that we are embraced in it.

The other day my wife and I were in the car listening to Radio 4 – that’s her station of choice; I’m more of a Radio 5 Live man myself. But we are united in listening to Classic FM for music! I digress.

It was Woman’s Hour and I felt something of an interloper to begin with, but soon was drawn into careful listening to an interview with the new leader of the Welsh National Party, Plaid Cymru. I probably do not share many of her political views, but when she was described as a radical, feminist republican, she was more than happy to accept these labels, explaining what each of them meant to her. Though republican, she had nothing personal against the Royal family and would treat them with respect as individuals. It is with the monarchy as an institution that she has a problem. I guess that the older I get the more I sympathise with her views at this point, but the main thing that struck me was the consistency of her policies, and how differently I perceive her Scottish counterparts.

One might have thought that the SNP had been in existence long enough to have ‘off the shelf’ policies on the main issues around independence. Apparently not so. Not only that, but the independence being pursued seems to me to be ‘Independence Lite’ that seems little different to ‘Devo Max.’

Shall we keep Sterling? Apparently, although one might have thought an independent country would have its own currency, or the Euro, rather than the currency of the country from which we want to separate.

Surely we won’t still be linked to the Bank of England as bank of last resort? Apparently we will, with the fiscal constraints that will mean for our monetary policy.

Will we be a republic? Apparently not. The Queen will still be Queen rather than having our own President a la the Irish Republic.

In other words, major institutions that one might assume would be ditched or changed will, in fact be retained. In what sense, then, will Scotland be independent if it votes ‘Yes’ in the coming referendum? It is hard to know, and even harder to understand why a party whose prime aim throughout its existence has been withdrawal from the UK wants to keep these institutions of the Union.

As a congregation we follow the main Christian festivals, but don’t follow the Lectionary readings. However, each year between Christmas and Easter we retrace the story of Jesus in one of the Gospels (including John). This year we are reflecting on Luke and during Lent I’m using Tom Wright’s book on Luke, ‘Lent for Everyone – Year C.’

So, I’m now rereading some of the material I have already used for Sunday studies and I’m thinking about it again. It’s amazing how having another look at a passage can open us up to the fresh impact of things that we saw before.

The story of the calling of the first disciples in Luke is told quite differently from the other Evangelists, and in Luke 5:1-11 the central character among the disciples is Peter. It was his mother-in-law whom Jesus had just healed; it was his boat that Jesus borrowed from which to speak to the crowds on the shore. One senses from the story that Peter was still very sceptical about Jesus, although a depth of respect for who he was and what he had done meant that he tolerated the advice of Jesus (a carpenter from inland Nazareth) that he, Peter (a born-and-bred fisherman from the fishing town of Capernaum), should trawl the nets again in daytime when they had caught nothing all night at the prime fishing time. ‘OK Boss, but it’s a waste of time.’

The unexpectedly huge catch of fish not only gives Peter a new and startling insight to the nature of Jesus, it also shines a light into his own soul. He sees for himself the kind of sceptical, negative and pretty faithless person he has been and is deeply conscious that he is not worthy to associate with Jesus.  ‘Go away from me Lord; I am a sinful man,’ is all that he can say. But Jesus has other ideas. It is exactly because Peter has become aware of himself and the gulf between them that Jesus can take him, form him and use him to draw people into the Kingdom of God. Yes, there are plenty of other times when Peter will need sorted out, but this initial turn-around was so important.

As I thought of this afresh I began to wonder if it’s only when we get to the point of saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord,’ that we come to the best place for Jesus to take us into his circle and use us for his Kingdom.