Lent day 16

"Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" (Matthew 6:26)

Pigeons take refuge in a tree when they aren't foraging for food on the ground. In winter without leaves to conceal them, they are more vulnerable to airborne predators. They roost together and on occasions all fly together. In between, individual birds go in search of food and then return. There's a mix of stillness and activity. Nothing stays the same for long. For the predator and the camera, they present an ever moving target. 

There's safety in numbers, also extra energy efficiency achieved from flying together in continually changing formation, that affords greater endurance on the wing as they move from place to place. The interdependence of their life together optimizes the chance of survival in a changing, sometimes, threatening environment. God created them with ability to look after themselves collectively. It's a remarkable design characteristic.

Writing to the church in Rome, St Paul acknowledges different gifts and ministries exercised in the community, but stresses that each disciple of Jesus needs the other. Relationships between them have an interdependent dynamic that fosters growth and makes survival possible in times of trial.

"So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another." (Romans 12:5)

Human beings are social creatures, acting and working together in so many ways, yet each is also a unique gifted individual with strength of will that lets us distinguish ourselves from the crowd - very much a mixed blessing. Individualism may not work for the benefit of others. It can become a threat to the well-being of the whole when someone loses their sense of the Other and others. Each has a uniquely personal relationship with God maker of all, and yet belongs to a community that belongs to God. And that's what ultimately makes us who we are meant to be.

The world exalts the potential for individuality if other can take advantage of by it by creating the illusion we're more powerful and capable than we think we are. Paul invites believers to become more conscious of the gulf between fantasy and reality.

"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your minds" 

(Rom 12:2)

He reminds readers to be realistic about themselves and what they have to offer.

"For by the grace given to me, I say to everyone among you not to think more highly of themselves that you ought to, but to think with sober judgement, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned." (Rom 12:3)

We pray daily 'Lead us not into temptation / save us from the time of trial, for daily life is full of challenges to our sense of reality and understanding of truth, if not actual threats to our well being from a hostile environment or the hostility of others. We desire to respond in love wholeheartedly, but fear and confusion sabotages the best of intentions. As God says in the second Creation story: "It is not good for the man to be alone ..." (Gen 2:18)  

We were made for relationships. Solidarity and community build us up, and keep us safer, just as it is with the birds that find safety and support in numbers. Yet we are all individuals, needing to discover who we are and what we can be and do. 

Jesus taught his disciples to pray, he spoke of the value of withdrawing from others to be alone with God. This is one place where it is safe to be an individual, provided we have not merely made God in the image of our own needs and wants.

Lent day 15

Fridays in Lent are an occasion to think about the meaning of Jesus cross and passion, as a preparation for the last Great Friday, when the biblical story is retold in full as part of the church's liturgy.

Thinking on Wednesday about Moses viewing the Promised Land from high up on the far side of the Jordan Valley, reminded me of the dawn Easter Vigil Eucharist followed by picnic breakfast, shared with friends at the ancient Byzantine church on Mount Nebo back in 1998. The photograph I took of a tall cross with figures representing intertwined serpents on a terrace looking west toward Jerusalem, came to mind.  

It was made by Giovanni Fantoni, and reflects Jesus' reference to a story about Moses, as he speaks to his disciples about his impending death.

"As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up. That whosoever believeth in him may have eternal life." (John 3:14)

He was referring to the account of how Moses dealt with a terrifying plague of snakes in the wilderness.

And Moses made a serpent of brass, and put it upon a pole, and it came to pass, that if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld the serpent of brass, he lived. (Num 21:9)

Looking upon the totemic snake somehow quenched the pain of the snake-bite and the fear it aroused, causing afflicted people to die as much of fright as of poison. A case of 'look and live'. This was the idea which the evangelist John adapted to interpret the meaning of Jesus self sacrifice on the cross, with its power to attract and reconcile people to God and each other. He has Jesus say this. 

And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto myself. (John 12:32)

Did this originate with Jesus and find expression in John's writing? It's impossible to say. What matters is that it truly reflects the experience at the heart of Gospel faith down the centuries. The story of Jesus' passion, however it comes alive in human imagination, leads to a realisation of the infinite love and compassion of God revealed on the cross.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)
    

Lent day 14

A copy of this sketch by Pablo Picasso has accompanied us throughout our married life, usually hung on the wall above the bed. It's not an icon portraying Mary with the infant Jesus, although the mood evoked in this sketch is one of tenderness. The 'Panagia Eleousia' icon - known in the West as the Virgin of Tenderness - depicts quiet and profound intimacy, with mother and child cheek to cheek. 

There is another iconic form, however, the 'Pelagonitissa', known as 'The Virgin with Playing Child', in which Jesus reaches for his mother. The movement is more stylised. The gentle playful movement of the child reaching out to touch its mother's face in this sketch, is far more natural and human.

Icons have spoken to me about the mysteries of Christian faith and the communication of biblical stories since discovering them in student days. Yet, Picasso's essential drawing speaks profoundly of spiritual things in a natural way. It reminds me of a verse from the Psalm so strongly associated with Christ's Cross and Passion, which begins "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" After eight verses of pained lament comes an almost unexpected reaching out towards the Almighty.

Yet You are He who brought me forth from the womb; You made me trust when upon my mother's breasts. (Psalm 22:9)

Picasso practices, experiments with form in this sketch. The mother's body is rehearsed behind the main figure, three practice hands are drawn before the mother's enfolding arms and hands are added, elegant, gentle. It is reminiscent of a phrase from the final blessing of Moses over the children of Israel, made familiar from its use as an introductory verse in the funeral service. The original Hebrew may be more obscure and ambiguous, but with the passage of time, this translation has commended itself more than the alternatives.

The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. (Deut 33:27)

God's love is made known in our lives and relationships, regardless of age, gender, status. It conveys a sense of being sustained, upheld, cherished, secure, which Picasso's sketch captures, and it resonates with the Word expressed in scripture. 

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. (1 John 3:1-2)
  

Lent day 13

This is the view from my sister's house over the Severn Estuary towards Cardiff 15 miles away where I live. The South Wales coalfield plateau with its famous valleys is in the background behind the city. On a clear winter day the snow capped peaks of the Brecon Beacons are visible to a telescope.

For many years this has been her fond glimpse of the place she calls home, where she grew up, and eventually moved away from. Welsh Christians have over centuries given biblical names to villages and places of worship. Being the place where they have learned to re-live the stories of scripture, Wales is thought of as another Promised Lane, blessed by God. This view has therefore often reminded me of Moses at journey's end after his forty year sojourn in the wilderness.

He stood on a promontory on Mount Nebo overlooking the Jordan Valley, absorbing a glimpse of the Promised Land beyond. (Deut 34:1-5) He'd guided the children of Israel through the Sinai desert after their flight from bondage in Egypt to the point where they could enter and lay claim to the land promised them by their ancestor Abraham. This, however, would be as far as he'd go. It was where he would die, having completed his mission. 

Moses wasn't motivated to inspire and lead others by anything he knew for himself about the destination to which God was guiding them. He was willing to take everything on trust because of his fragmentary experiences of divine presence and power, from the Burning Bush to the theophany on Mount Sinai. They were such powerful experiences he was convinced that over-exposure to God would annihilate him. Meeting God is a dangerous experience. As Hebrews 12:29 states "God is a consuming fire." 

Moses keeps God at a safe enough distance from himself and the children of Israel, yet confides in God, argues with God in the midst of awe-inspiring encounters. Despite the fearful reverence God's presence awakens, God's good will towards him is assuring and certain.

"The Lord spake unto Moses face to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend" (Exod 33:11)

The Letter to the Hebrews speaks of faith as "... the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen." (Heb 11:1) citing Moses as one of the great exemplars in the history of faith. He trusted God, accepted God's call to leadership. The memory of God's promise to his forebears was his, but he would die knowing nothing of the reality of the world to which the promise referred.

We are in a similar position. We may have ideas about the future but nothing is at all certain. Life here and now is full of the unexpected. We have little or nothing to go on with regard to life beyond this one, despite the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. His disciples handed on nothing from Jesus about his experience of death, nor of what lies beyond it. All is taken on trust, rooted in our experience of being loved by God. As Paul says:

"We walk by faith and not by sight" (2 Cor 5:7)

"Not all of us will die, but all of us will be changed ..."  (1 Cor 15:51)

     

Lent day 12

I woke up with the image of a brick wall in my mind, and took this photograph outside the back door.

For the past 7,000 years, human beings in different parts of the world have been firing moulded blocks of clay to make building bricks. Air-dried bricks of mud and straw have been found that go back 9,500 years. Both are highly adaptable for use in making boundary walls, shelters, houses, water channels, fortifications, especially in regions where natural stone is too hard or too soft to work with. 

Neil McGregor's 'History of the World in 100 objects has nothing to say about them, yet it's hard to conceive of the known world developing without them. Systematic shaping and arranging of pieces of material for construction is one of humankind's earliest technological break-throughs.

Bricks are mentioned first as a construction material in the story of the tower of Babel (Genesis 11:3-4). In the Exodus story, enslaved Hebrews labour at making air-dried bricks (Exodus 1:14 & 5:7-19) under worsening conditions that drive their bid for freedom. There are dozens of references to building cities, temples, ramparts abound in the Old Testament, but fewer in the New Testament. They do not mention bricks but stones, yet these are of great significance for the growth of the church, and relationships between disciples of Christ.

"Jesus said to them, "Did you never read in the Scriptures?, 'The stone the builders rejected, became the chief corner stone; this came about from the Lord, and it is marvellous in our eyes' " (Matt 21:42)

A quotation from the Psalms, much used to interpret the meaning of the death of Jesus, confirming his role and status as God's Messiah.

"The stone which the builders rejected Has become the chief corner stone." (Psalm 118:22)

Peter's first Epistle also refers to the same passage in his proclamation of Jesus, and the calling of all who become his disciples.

"Come to Him as to a living stone which has been rejected by men, but is choice and precious in the sight of God, you also, as living stones, are being built up as a spiritual house for a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ." (1 Peter 2:4-5)

And Paul too uses the building metaphor in speaking about community relationships.

"For we are co-workers in God's service; you are God's field, God's building." (1Cor 3:9)

Both are clear that whatever our efforts may contribute to the process, God is the master builder, the architect of the worshipping and believing community.

Each building, each wall, each bridge, each channel fashioned of brick has its own story, its own role and function. Each batch of bricks, if not every single brick has its story too, inter-related with that of homo faber - the artisan or architect whose labours caused their forms to appear in the world. It's the same kind of dynamic relationship between utterly simple and utterly complex things that exists in the human body, and between the microcosm and macrocosm of the universe.

There's far more than anyone can imagine or discover in God's creation. "Who can know the mind of God?" as St Paul said twice (1 Cor 2:16 & Rom 11:34), quoting Isaiah 40:13. It's good to marvel at the extent of what can be known, and remind ourselves not to take for granted even the most basic and simple things in the world around us.
  

Lent day 11

"Give and there will be gifts for you, a full measure ...The amount you measure out is the amount you will be given back." (Luke 6:38)

Jesus speaks in the Gospel set for today about generosity in compassion and forgiveness, in which anyone can imitate God's graciousness. The word 'measure' suggested a couple of domestic images.

And an industrial / maritime image - depth of the water measured in a lock as it fills, telling when the water will be a safe enough depth for the gates to open. A ship bears the Plimsoll line on its hull, to measure when the vessel has reached its safe standard loading limit.

Hebrew scripture uses a variety of words to represent the concept of measurement, whether of length volume or weight. Fair measures are a vital practical component of justice. Security is more possible when people agree to acknowledge a common standard. For justice to be impartial, for fair trading to take place, measures for the purposes of comparison are essential. 

The Torah is unequivocal about this, and for good reason.

Thou shalt do no wrong in judgment, in measurement of weight, or capacity. Thou shalt have just balances, just weights, a just ephah, and a just hin; I am the LORD thy God, who brought you out from the land of Egypt. (Lev 19:35-36)

Egypt, where unjust inhumane labour conditions were laid upon those bonded Hebrew labourers.

Thou shalt have a perfect and just weight, a perfect and just measure shalt thou have: that thy days may be lengthened in the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee. (Deuteronomy 25:15)

God alone gives without measure, according to need and circumstances, but makes this demand of his Covenant people for their own good. Length of days is a divine blessing. It is also the outcome of living securely, free of deadly conflict, because acceptance of common measure circumvents many a dispute and resentment.

Several of the prophets denounce the use of false weights, and there are four verses among the Proverbs that speak of God's abhorrence of this kind of cheating, for their use is intended only to deprive someone of what is rightfully theirs, for one's own benefit.

A scrupulous evaluative idea of justice was the accepted norm for Jews in the time of Jesus. He vents his indignation on the preoccupation of scrupulous devout people with trivia, when much greater issues remained in need of close attention.

"Woe to you Pharisees, because you give God a tenth of your mint, rue and all other kinds of garden herbs, but you neglect justice and the love of God. You should have practiced the latter without leaving the former undone." (Luke 11:42)

Jesus also says:

"Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much." (Luke 16:10)

The 'dishonesty with little' consists in refusing to place things in context, and give them the value and priority they deserve. It's something each of us has to work hard on, especially when the pace of life and its confusion of demands distorts perspective. How important it is then to use the opportunity Lent presents to step back and regain a just sense of proportion.

Second Sunday of Lent

Gulls escort a trawler into port at the end of a fishing trip, hoping for that small share of the harvest which humans aren't interested in.

The working day for seafarers hunting fish may have started eighteen hours ago, keeping vigil in the darkness after casting nets. Waiting for shoals to shift with tidal currents, waiting for the moment when enduring in patience is rewarded with the first of several tries to land a catch. The work is tough, the journey may be risky when the weather is uncertain, no matter how much better conditions are now than they were in generations past.


Lake Galilee is not the ocean, but today's fishermen would recognise that those who worked on much smaller craft bringing home fresh water fish to eat or to sell two thousand years ago, needed the same qualities as themselves to earn a living. Patience, endurance, strength, resilience, courage, and the ability to rely on each other to stay safe while bringing home the fish.

It's not surprising Jesus sought out a handful of fishermen to accompany him, to be his first partners and inheritors in the mission of God's kingdom.

Jesus called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me." (Mark 8:34)

Many in his audience were women. Their daily labours in the fields and at home weren't the same yet his words would equally be understood from their experience of taking second place, supporting  and feeding their spouses and children, caring for others, putting them first - the burden of responsibility and trust, as well as any burden of suffering and enduring in patience which life might present.

For many of us today in wealthy western society life is far less arduous and insecure than it was in times when physical labour was the dominant means of earning a living. Other kinds of hardship and anxiety burden us, different kinds of crisis come to test us. Are we ready? Does the discipleship of faith in God through Jesus Christ give us the essential training and self discipline needed to be ready for anything? How can we find out if we really have such strength of character? The lifestyle change proposed to us by the season of Lent gives us an opportunity to find out.

Sundays in Lent, as all Sundays, are festive days, albeit a little restrained and sober. Days when we celebrate Christ's resurrection, his victory over evil, sin and death. It gives us a momentary respite, but also an opportunity to reflect on the progress made with our Lenten choices this past week. How did I do? How focused was I, how easily distracted? How well would I cope if life was really tough? How easily would I forget the graciousness and generosity of God? How well could I be relied upon to be the person I think I'm meant to be?