From the Editor
Several months ago an article by Anglican minister and psychologist George Trippe challenged me to think of myself as a person of the Resurrection. Out of my subsequent musings through this year’s Easter season evolved the theme for this edition of JG. Ironically, today as I have been putting together a JG on Resurrection, a wrecking crew have been turning the condemned house next door into a pile of dust and rubble. Strangely symbolic.
This is my first edition of JG as editor, and I will welcome any and all feedback. Thanks to all who contributed.
Clare
Resurrection and Discipleship
Each Easter I am confronted by the challenge: do I really believe that Jesus was raised from the dead? As in, a physical resurrection and all that? By now, I have thoroughly internalised this question, but in the past it has often been laid before me by more “evangelical” brothers and sisters in the faith. Whether they have been students from campus groups or authors of evangelical texts, the question of belief in the physical resurrection has been critical for them. Frankly, my answer to this question has never been as solid as they (or I) might like: I wouldn’t say an outright no, but I don’t have the kind of conviction in my bones that many people seem to have.
Does this mean I’m not a (good) Christian? Certainly if I focus on the words attributed to Jesus in John’s gospel, “I am the resurrection and the life; those who believe in me, even though they die, will live”, and other such teachings, it might seem that way.
However, we are blessed to have not one but four gospels; not one, but four perspectives on the life and significance of Jesus which the early church considered authoritative despite their differences. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus’ call to his disciples, and in turn to us, is not so much to believe in him but “follow me.” Luke and Matthew also carry this theme. Christian discipleship, for these gospel writers and their communities of faith, was at least as much about commitment and membership in Jesus’ community of followers as about intellectual convictions or a specific understanding of what his resurrection means.
The distinction I’m making here is not the same as the distinction (beloved and often misapplied by evangelicals) between “faith” and “works”. I am trying to understand the different dimensions of what it means to have faith, or to be faith-full. That means, for me, to commit myself to living as if the great story of our faith is true: not the stories of consumer capitalism that bombard us daily, but the Bible and the story of the Christian church(es) through the ages.
What would it mean to live a life governed by the gospel story that Jesus is not dead, but has been raised? Among other things, I’d have to look again at Jesus’ life and teachings, which the religious and imperial authorities found so threatening and which God found so faithful. Rather than seeing Jesus ministry as a prelude to the “real work” of his death and resurrection, I see the resurrection as pointing back to the importance of who Jesus was and what he proclaimed: the “good news” of the kingship (reign) of God; the Beatitudes (and the Woes, in Luke’s account!); the breaking down of social barriers and the building of a radically inclusive community. Life lived for the benefit of others, not just for self.
All in all, what a terrifying prospect! The Easter story that often speaks most clearly to me is the original ending of Mark’s gospel. Written for a community that already knew and believed in the truth of the resurrection, Mark’s original text didn’t end with the triumphalistic hurrahs that were tacked on later, but with the first witnesses being sent back to where they started, back to ordinary life, to carry on the mission of following Jesus. Even though he will now be with them for all time, it’s no fairytale ending. It is a call to keep proclaiming his good news and making it a reality. Sure, they are being asked to believe that Jesus has been raised by God, but worse: they are being asked to live out in their daily lives the implications of this extraordinary event.
As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, ‘Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.’ So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
Mark 16:5–8
Alarm, terror, amazement, fear… maybe these feelings are just as faithful a response to the resurrection as the kind of contented assurance I’ve often been told is the blessing of Christian belief.
Further reading in this vein:
- Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus (1989) and other works (on re-reading Mark’s gospel, and on understanding faith as commitment to live by the Christian Story rather than other powerful narratives)
- Thorwald Lorenzen, Resurrection and Discipleship (1995), on various ways of understanding the resurrection including the one I’ve discussed here. He also has a new (2003) book Resurrection Discipleship Justice: Affirming the Resurrection of Jesus Christ Today that I haven’t read yet.
Shawn Whelan lives in Melbourne with Natalie and their baby son Daniel. Shawn is about to step down as ASCM National Chair.
Because of the Resurrection, we must remain open to the proposition that others can change. Because of the Resurrection we must remain open to the proposition that we can change. This is the intent behind the phrase in the prayer for the day, we prayed just a short time ago. ‘Open the graves of our lives, so that all that has been long buried, may be freed and forgiven.’. We are people of the Resurrection …
We are invited by this resurrection to stand in life with incurable optimism, and to believe deeply in the life of God among us effecting change, healing, reconciling, restoring to life, making whole, loving, loving, loving. Another way in which I frame this [Easter] day in my thinking is to realise that, because of the Resurrection, my response to life is ‘yes’. Yes to life. The resurrection challenges me to claim the courage to stand with hope, to stand for life against fear, cynicism, defeat, hopelessness and despair. ‘In spite of all the evidence to the contrary’, the response to life is still ‘yes’…
So there it is. We gather to celebrate the resurrection of Christ, the dawning of the new day. We are a people given to incurable optimism, who claim the courage to say ‘yes’ to life, who put our oar in the sand with Christ and take responsibility for our share of the work of the risen Christ now.
(Quotes from an Easter Sunday sermon included in George E. Trippe, Who do you say that I am? Reflections on the way of Christ, (2002), pp.26–28, and using a quote (‘In spite of…’) from Morton Kelsey’s Reaching.)
Resurrection in Christian Spirituality
I believe that the resurrection lies at the heart of our faith, but I don't believe this in the traditional sense that Jesus died in a once-for-all atonement for everybody and anyone who doesn't believe this will be lost. The resurrection represents new life—new possibilities where none previously existed—and it is effective in the here and now. It lies at the very heart of the human life.
As we know, the topic of whether the physical resurrection of Jesus actually occurred is being hotly debated in progressive Christian circles. However,
I think that what conservatives and progressives can agree on is that the disciples fell apart after Jesus death, yet later strangely recovered their confidence and enthusiasm and went on to meaningful work in the life of the early church. In essence, they had to learn to know Jesus in another way, to find his guiding and comforting presence inside their very selves.
Perhaps we can treat the death, burial and resurrection of the man Jesus as a metaphor for the process that brings about human freedom.
People are aware at some level of the misery that their own ego has brought them. Perhaps the death, burial and resurrection story is a useful way to look at how the process of enlightenment works. Enlightenment is not so much exposure to new ideas, but rather having one's perception, thinking and way of living radically transformed. We then act from a new ground of being. An old sense of self, despite being very useful in the past, must break down and die to give way to something deeper and more real. A useful analogy might be a snake shedding its old skin. It is a deeply upsetting process for most people, and can feel like a part of ourself has actually died. The story of the resurrection has real power if it gives a person the confidence to enter authentically and bravely into this process of renewal.
Everybody feels an inner call at some time to live out their highest aspirations. The tragedy is that very few actually get serious about it. I believe that outdated theologies are often partly to blame for this. The radical nature and power of the resurrection story has often been cloaked by disappointing interpretations.
David Harman previously of ANU SCM, is now working as a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Wollongong, having obtained a PhD in chemistry from the ANU. He says of his theological position, ‘I believe that the “progressive middle ground” of Christian spirituality and theology is being eroded at one edge by fundamentalism and at another by indifference, but that these forces may, strangely, be just the thing needed to push progressive Christian spirituality to the next level.’.
‘Make no bones about that’
Jesus’ belief in resurrection as portrayed in Mark 12:18–27
This article is intended as a contribution to the various ways Christians have of understanding resurrection. I want simply to contribute another ingredient to the varied dishes of resurrection theology that are tasted by Christians. No theological restaurant has a monopoly on the menu.
Much passion is generated over discussion about whether one could believe in the resurrection of Jesus if his bones were to be discovered in a tomb in Jerusalem. Conservatively inclined Christians assert that Christian faith would crumble if Jesus’ bones were so discovered. Usually they appeal to a sentence in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians for justification of their absolute declaration:
If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins.
1 Corinthians 15:17
Can resurrection occur if the bones remain in the tomb? On the other side of the debate there are those scholars who contend that belief in the resurrection of Jesus is not dependent upon there being an empty tomb. They go further and assert that even if the bones of Jesus were to be discovered, that would not negate their understanding and acceptance of the resurrection of Jesus.
In contemporary piety the stress is on locating Jesus in the heart of the believer. Perhaps the most popular expression of that belief is contained in the chorus of the hymn that declares:
You ask me how I know he lives? He lives within my heart.
However, there is no space for bones to be added to the human heart.
What was Jesus’ opinion on the matter? This article explores whether Jesus, as presented in Mark 12:18–27, believed that certain persons have been resurrected even though those persons’ bones still reside in a known tomb.
Come with me in your imagination to the city of Hebron. We shall venture to catch a share-taxi – it is called a cheroot – from Jerusalem to Hebron, a distance of 30 kilometres. We shall be alert because Hebron is a tense city. Why is it tense? There are a number of reasons but an important one is that it is widely believed by Muslims and observant Jews that the patriarchs are buried there, most notably the bones of Abraham (Genesis 23:9; 25:8–10). Abraham’s tomb has been honoured by the building of the Haram el-Khalil above the Macphelah cave. The Macphelah complex contains a mosque and a synagogue as well as a cave
This is no trivial or archaic belief; peoples’ lives are at stake over it. People are killed in Hebron over the issue of who has primary, or sole, claim, to the city and its sacred tombs. On 25 February 1994 the Jewish killer Baruch Goldstein massacred in cold blood twenty-nine Palestinian Muslims as they were at prayer in the Ebrahami mosque in Hebron. For their part, Jews remember the massacre of their fellow-Jews in Hebron in 1929 by some of the Palestinians living in Hebron at the time.
I have not been able to find any evidence to suggest that Abraham’s bones have been moved from Hebron. I presume that they were believed to be there in Jesus’ day. I wish to contend that the presence of Abraham’s bones in Hebron did not prevent Jesus voicing his belief in Abraham’s resurrection.
The key passage is found in Mark 12:26–27:
And as for the dead being raised, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the story about the bush, how God said to him, ‘I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? [God] is God not of the dead, but of the living; you are quite wrong.
At the risk of sounding like a Sadducee, if it is required that Christians believe that no resurrection can occur while bones remain in the ground, what do we make of Abraham’s tomb at Hebron? If the Macphelah contains Abraham’s bones, does Jesus’ assertion about resurrection in Mark 12:26–27 need to be pulled into line?
Can we believe that a person can be alive and in the presence of God even though their bones are believed to be in a tomb? Can resurrection occur while bones are still in a tomb? My contention is that Jesus, as presented in Mark 12:18–27, believed that to be so.
The impression gained from a straightforward reading of Mark 12: 25–27 is that the patriarchs are alive with God. If we assume that Abraham’s bones remained buried in Hebron up to Jesus’ day (as even to ours), then their presence in the earth does not prevent Jesus asserting that Abraham and his fellow patriarchs were alive with God.
In the debates about resurrection that occur among Christians, I simply wish to make a plea that Jesus or his belief are not excommunicated because of his response to the Sadducees as recounted in Mark 12: 18–27. That Jesus can believe in the resurrection of the patriarchs while their bones were still entombed in Hebron (and in Shechem/ Nablus for Joseph) is not to be pushed aside. It is a belief not only worth noting but, for the Christian community, worth including. Presumably that was a reason that all three synoptic evangelists included the account in their gospels.
Some Christians so want to control faith and put it into the cage of certainty that they are very readily beset by anxiety. This nervousness to control is a disturbing undercurrent rattling the certainty that they aspire to in belief. In their drive to control every doctrine, they are zealous even to tuck God’s shirt in. They cannot cope with disorderly styles of divine deportment. Even how Jesus wears a resurrection shirt can cause them anxiety.
But not all shirts need tucking in. There are a good number of resurrection shirts in the New Testament. The one Jesus wears in Mark 12:18–27 may be more angelic than ‘flesh and bone’ in its texture. But Jesus is presented as wearing this shirt. If Jesus wears it, then assuredly it can be worn by his disciples.
Ray Barraclough is convenor of Queensland SCM Area Council. This is an abridged version of a much longer academic article he is currently working on.
For a curious but kind of cool visual reflection on resurrection, check this out.
‘Explore the paradox of Easter—bitter then sweet, death then life, dark then light—with this visual poem, a piece of eye candy.’
It’s about chocolate & chilli.
31-Weeks Along the Journey to a New Life
When Clare wrote the discussion questions for this JG, I thought “Great! This is just the topic for me!” I’m 31 weeks pregnant at the moment, and this pregnancy has been one of the most significant resurrection experiences of my life so far. I had intentions of writing a piece of reasonable length about what I’d learnt about myself through the pregnancy, but to my surprise I found myself stumped when it came to writing it. This is unusual for me. At a time when my internal life is rich, to the point of overwhelming at times, even my journalling has been dry and sporadic. After turning on the computer, staring at it, then turning it off again, I concluded that I am still too much in the experience of pregnancy to write much about it.
What I would have liked to have written, if I had written anything, would have been a description of the parallels between pregnancy and the crucifixion/ resurrection. It would have been about a long uncomfortable lead up, then unavoidable pain that takes you beyond your normal boundaries of self, then through and because of that pain the arrival of a new chapter in life, a new view of self, a resurrection of hope and maybe of connection with God.
I can’t write it yet. Maybe its because I’m not up to the resurrection part. At week 31, I’m not even riding on the back of the donkey yet. I’m just trudging my weary bloated breathless nausea-wracked way towards Jerusalem. Ahead lies unavoidable physical pain for me, and then the end of life as we know it, Captain. Everyone says this parenthood gig is great, but everyone also says it changes you and your relationship with each other almost beyond recognition. Then there are the horror stories of exhaustion, isolation, financial restrictions, physical pain and depression that people describe as an inevitable part of the experience.
There will be something wonderful at the end of the journey though: a baby. I have absolutely no regrets about being pregnant and I feel really, really blessed to be having a baby. It’s not all roses, though, at least not for a worrywart like me.
So, instead of a concise article, I offer this poem. It’s in its adolescent stage and needs a lot more culling before it is done, but the JG deadline rolled around, so here it is.
First some background:
- In my first trimester of pregnancy I turned again to the Annunciation, and to Mary’s experience of pregnancy. I can’t fathom it. How did she say yes to that? She must have suspected what she was bringing on herself and on her family. Where did that courage come from? I can’t imagine ever saying yes to that myself. And how, in her first trimester, did Mary walk all the way through hills to a neighbouring town to see Elizabeth? I was having a hard time getting out of bed in my first trimester. How did she do that? It’s beyond me.
- In my experience, a pregnant woman can find a million and one things to worry about these days. We are always being told about all the ways you can damage your child before they are born just by playing the wrong sort of music to them in the womb, standing too close to microwaves, having a “negative attitude”, not sleeping enough, sleeping too much, not exercising enough, exercising too much etc etc etc. It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible to avoid all the things I’ve been warned about; I’d never leave the bedroom, let alone the house, and then I’d be damaging Baby by not being socially active enough.
- Since last November, Matt and I have been attending Quaker Meetings here in Newcastle for our Sunday worship. The meetings are held at the home of a family who have a range of pets, one being a very pretty cat called Sunday. The irony is that Sunday is the most non-Quaker animal that has ever existed. She’s a violent little thing with a mean streak a mile wide. She seems to particularly enjoy physically hurting older people, bless her socks. Being a Quaker household, they have assumed that Sunday behaves in this manner because she was abused as a kitten (she was a stray). Who knows?
So here’s the poem, as yet nameless.
As my waiting weeks whittle away
I am becoming a cat.
When I lie down,
My pregnant belly must be curled around
Other poses are becoming unwise.
I have looked for icons, and have wrestled with
The Virgin Mother, with her 15-year-old acquiescence.
I’ve looked to pioneering women giving birth alone in leaking tents,
And I have found none of their strength and grit in myself.
My closest comrade is Sunday the Anti-Quaker cat.
Mean-spirited, malicious, scratchy Sunday is my new patron saint.
She would not be bullied into a caesar.
Nor would she feel obliged to familiarise herself with the effects of Mozart on the unborn.
In all things motherly, Sunday would not seek te be Correct.
Instead she would be pragmatic, bold,
Unnerved by fears of failure and collapse,
Scornful of industries that haunt sensible women as they navigate their way to birth,
Dismissing entirely the commodified self-doubts that detach an expectant mother form what her body knows.
Rather, from her bed in the sun, Sunday would intone:
“My days of peace are numbered.
If I require affection, you will be informed.”
Sophia Wooldridge lives in Newcastle and currently works as a clinical psychologist for people with developmental disabilities. She and Matt are expecting their first baby in August.
Global Resurrection – Revelation, Cosmology, Precession
The resurrection of Jesus Christ is a parable for our planet. After his cruel murder by a heedless imperial authority, Christ’s return to life mirrors the big story of the Bible: the hope that the current suffering of our world will be the prelude to a global resurrection.
This article presents an alternate reading of the book of Revelation to suggest how this vision might be realized. It aims to integrate Revelation’s mysterious guiding intelligence with a scientific worldview to articulate a spiritual cosmology of planetary renewal. From my reading, I believe this old book sets Jesus Christ right up there with Galileo, Newton and Einstein as one of the principal sources for contemporary thought on scientific cosmology.
I like to imagine Jesus walking in the garden in the cool of the evening with his disciples, just talking about theology, time and love, and how humanity could possibly hope to escape the threat of destruction. The Christian perspective suggests that Jesus, as the messianic genius of Christianity with a visionary understanding of history, was at the centre of these discussions. Jesus articulated a profound vision of the challenge of salvation. Behind his decision to turn to Jerusalem, to offer himself for crucifixion at the hands of the Roman authorities, was a cosmic vision of reconciliation, founded on his personal relationship with God. Clues to the framework for this cosmic vision are suggested in the book of Revelation.
The Biblical vision of the holy city in Revelation 21 is among the most evocative images in the Bible. It includes a vivid description of the twelve foundation stones:
The foundations of the city wall were decorated with every precious jewel; the first course of stones was jasper, the second sapphire, the third chalcedony, the fourth emerald, the fifth sardonyx, the sixth carnelian, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh hyacinth, and the twelfth amethyst.
Rev. 21:19- 20
The twelve jewels are the foundation stones of the holy city, new Jerusalem, the capital of Christ in the new age of the kingdom of love. To make sense, the ideas in Revelation must sit squarely on a scientific foundation, grounded in a natural theology that explains how God is revealed in our cosmos, but sadly they have often been analysed as real possibilities only in an inadequate fundamentalist context.
What can these stones mean? Two of the most respected commentaries on the Book of Revelation1 explain that, by old tradition, the jewels are a cosmic symbol. They represent the twelve constellations of the zodiac, the path of stars traversed each year by the sun from Aries to Pisces. The unusual thing noted by the commentators is that the order of the foundation jewels, compared to the stars, is precisely the reverse of their order in the sky. The jasper first course of foundation stones of the new Jerusalem is understood by tradition to represent Pisces, the last sign of the zodiac, and this reverse order continues through to the twelfth course, of amethyst, which represents Aries, the first sign of the zodiac.
This ‘reverse’ order of the foundation jewels corresponds with the cycle of time known as the precession of the equinox. The equinoxes are the dates each March and September when day and night are of equal length. Precession is a long natural cycle, well known to ancient astronomers, whereby the position reached by the sun in relation to the zodiac constellations each year at the equinox moves slowly backward. The equinox ‘precesses’ around the constellations of the zodiac, making a full circle every 26 000 years, which is known as a Great Year. Precession is caused by a slow wobble in the axis of the earth, like a spinning top, and has been happening in a constant regular rhythm since the origin of the solar system. Thinking in scientific terms of evolutionary biology, this cycle has been going on unchanged for the four billion years of life on earth, or 150 000 Great Years. Over this time, this precession cycle has been part of the cosmic niche for all life on earth.
Precession means the position of the sun against the stars of the zodiac shifts backwards by one sign every 2152 years. At the time of Christ, the March equinox occurred with the sun between the signs of Pisces and Aries. Since then the equinox has precessed through Pisces, and is now almost in Aquarius. Over the next 2152 years, starting in about 2150 AD, the equinox will precess through Aquarius. In purely scientific terms, this is the meaning of the Age of Aquarius.
Understood in these terms, the image of the foundation jewels gives us an intriguing suggestion of the time scale of the Biblical story of the end times, studied by eschatology. The precession of the equinox is the only natural cycle identified to date that matches the Revelation image of the twelve jewels. Through this image, John seems to be telling us that the proper time frame for eschatology is the 26-thousand-year long correspondence between the twelve foundation jewels and the twelve cosmic ages, starting with the Piscean Age in which Jesus lived.
To my thinking, the image of the twelve jewels is a key to the relation between time and eternity, but we have been unable to see this relation for complex cultural reasons. Precession provides the structure of time for the earth against the galaxy, but science has been so captivated by its big discoveries of the universe that it has not focussed on the medium scale cosmic question of how our earth fits in the rhythms of our galaxy.
The big question arising from this material is how we should interpret the prophecy of the holy city in Revelation 21. The Bible tells us the holy city will be a vast cube, with each edge 1,500 miles long. I dream of the new Jerusalem as located in the Pacific Ocean at the opposite pole from the old Jerusalem. The first stage will be the Piscean foundation jewel of jasper, with the Aquarian foundation jewel of sapphire to inaugurate the new age in 150 years or so.
I like to dream of this as a vast engineering project unifying the world in peace. An understanding of the cosmic cycle for renewal suggested in Revelation provides a framework of hope for us as we work for a better world. The resurrection of Jesus Christ shows in microcosm the nature of this grand turning. Life, however slowly, will come from death. As a symbol of unity, stability, love, faith and knowledge, building the new Jerusalem presents a practical understanding of the end times, a way to address the problems of our world including poverty, terror and ecocide, a symbol of global resurrection.
Footnotes
- The Rev. William Barclay, D.D., The Revelation of John (Volume Two), The Saint Andrew Press, Edinburgh, 1959 (The Daily Study Bible);
George Baird Caird, Black’s New Testament Commentaries, The Revelation of St John the Divine, Adam & Charles Black, London 1966.
Robert Tulip is an SCM Friend in the ACT.
Easter is Over… Now What?
Over tea and small talk the week before Palm Sunday, I heard one nice church lady ask another ‘So, are you all ready for Easter?’ The question startled me so much I laughed out loud. Ready for Easter?! The dead man comes back to life; the impossible becomes truth; shattered dreams reform in new light to become the way forward. I had been looking in despair at the shape of my world and not believing in the possibility for change. How could I possibly be ready for the empty tomb? Could I afford to take the tremendous risk of hope and believe in Resurrection? Although year after year the church spends Lent preparing for it, Easter remains a shock to my whole being. I want to believe that what happened once can happen again, but deep down I struggle to have hope that Resurrection can still happen day to day. Not in my world. Not in me.
I spent much of this year’s Easter season chewing away at the paradox of, on one hand, my faith in Resurrection in a ‘spiritual’ realm, my witnessing of the consistent evidence of Resurrections in the natural world (such as the transformation of our back-yard desert into a field of dancing clover), and my gathering of small moments of hope with which to decorate my life, and yet also my lack of hope in the possibility for change in global interactions and issues, or, in some instances, at a personal, emotional and relational level. Easter is over for another year, but I didn’t manage to tie off my musings into satisfactory conclusions in time for Pentecost, so I offer a handful of loose ends. Perhaps some of these threads will weave into your life tapestry where they are hanging out the end of mine.
The gospel writers again and again recount the amazement of the disciples when they encountered the risen Christ. It struck me that I can’t recall being amazed at Jesus’ resurrection. Since before I can remember, I have absorbed it liturgically in the creedal statements, packed in just between the third day and the ascent to heaven, and it has lost its shock value. This in itself is astonishing! A dead man coming back to life has become part of my ‘ordinary’! However, when I stopped to consider spaces where Resurrection would amaze me, I was overwhelmed. In particular, two friendships that have fallen apart came to mind and I was absolutely floored at the notion that they could resurrect. Those relationships are dead! Their tombs are sealed with whacking great rocks of distrust, anger, hurt, mistakes, pride, fear, disappointment and who knows what else. I don’t know whether I really believe that God works this sort of Resurrection. Imagining it gave me a different handle on how I prayed about those friendships, though, and also a deepening in my comprehension of the gospels’ amazement at Jesus’ Resurrection.
A sermon I heard a while ago said of Simeon and Anna ‘They were wise, not because they were old, but because they knew how to wait, and how to rejoice’. I want change NOW, and am often so busy being aware of the things that haven’t changed that I forget to rejoice in the things that have. I hate living in the Saturday of the Easter cycle. Give me Friday, with the drama and pain, or Sunday with the joy, but not this indomitable Long Saturday. In writing these reflections, I re-read pieces of my recent journaling around the concept of Resurrection, and found an exasperated entry saying ‘not all Resurrections are complete in three days! Some Long Saturdays just go on forever.’ In an Easter Saturday reflection, following the language of the Tenebrae service, I fleshed out what this in-between feels like: ‘The Word became flesh and dwelt among us – and he is dead, the whole country is covered in darkness, the whole world is holding its breath to see if its all over this time, if its was one war too many, one broken heart over the limit, one compassionate act too few, or if the incarnation will continue, the Son rise again tomorrow, our petty small deaths be lifted and worked in our favour, again, resurrected.’ Perhaps we need the Long Saturday so that our wounds scar over and our broken bones can knit and become stronger. Perhaps what I need to be seeking is not an explosion of life from the tombs I sometimes feel trapped in, but an incremental Resurrection. And when it comes, remember to rejoice!
Again and again I find myself slamming up against the stone wall of how powerless I feel in the face of the overwhelming violence and lack of humanity that characterises the world I live in. The cry of Psalm 55 becomes my anthem:
And I will say” ‘Who will give me wings like a dove, to fly away and find rest? …
For I see violence and strife in the city …
Inside lives destruction; tyranny and treachery never absent from its central square.’
Psalm 55 vv.6, 10, 11
In part, my sense of despair arises when I don’t see how change is possible. I am with Thomas, wanting to see nail scars before I will believe in Resurrection. God, however, does not need Thomas to get the plan in advance in order for it to work. When I believe that change I can’t foresee is not possible, I put myself in the place of God, failing to trust that God’s plan is good even though I don’t have it figured out. God promises to be for all time a God of Resurrection. My job is not to make Resurrection happen, but I believe that if God tells me that Resurrection is possible, it is. My task is to keep fronting up at the tomb with my spices hoping that today will be the day the stone has been rolled away, or perhaps simply to point to the grave our world is plunging itself into and name it for what it is: death. Perhaps believing in the Resurrection is about knowing what the difference between death and life is, decrying death, celebrating life, and trusting that life will conquer.
One of my favourite Easter songs includes the lines ‘Celebrate your bold election/ You were born for Resurrection’1. I love it because it gives me an identity grounded in the promise of life. However, it also has the uneasy truth within it that we are born to die, because a Resurrection first needs a death. I have the genetics of both death and life shaping me. Next year, the Feast of the Annunciation, March 25th, falls on Good Friday, which I think is a fitting correspondence. Life and death, the beginning and the end, are at all times present. We live forever in the ‘both’.
With all these tangents of Resurrection thought pulling me in different directions, I come again to the gospel stories of the Resurrection, with my favourite being the account of John. The desolate cry of Mary, ‘they have taken away my Lord’, resonates. Here is humanity, raw and pained. Jesus in response doesn’t give Mary a theological treatise on Resurrection, or a clever parable, or even words of explanation. He just looks at her and, in my interpretation, smiles, holds out his arms and says with a tone of familiarity, love, gentleness and a touch of slow smile, ‘Mary.’ When I am falling apart, when I’m raging at the unfairness of life, when I’m confused and bruised and weeping, I see that slow, warm smile and hear ‘Clare.’ It gets me every time! I can’t quite explain it…
Footnotes
- Norman Habel, ‘Born for Ressurection’, All Together Again, 1983.
Clare SCHULZ works as a historian in the heritage industry in Perth, and has recently taken on the role of JG editor.
Human
There are times you comprehend
You’re not as pure as you pretend
When all you do seems like a sham—I feel like that today
I hold ideals I cannot reach
I do not practice what I preach
And all my best intentions I invarialy betray
I feel so unfit for the role
Of trying to mend the planet’s soul
But there’s no superheroes lining up to take my place
It might seem inappropriate
Regardless, I still give a shit
Maybe being a hypocrite’s my ticket to the human race
Surface charms I don’t possess
So I’ll just have to do my best
With the humble hand that I’ve been dealt—my only cards to play
But what of all the little one
Who’ve seldom had time in the sun?
Does my self-centredness neglect a world in disarray?
Honesty’s so hard to bear
Humilating to declare
As mixed motives and double standards stare me in the face
It’s painful to unearth it
God, I hope it’s worth it
But maybe being imperfect is my ticket to the human race
When my heart gets in a spin
It feels like I am twelve again
Over-analysing everything I do or say
Perspective scurries out the door
My dignity is on the floor
I’m on my knees still clutching at this innocent bouquet
If love appeared before my face
Would I recognise its grace
Or would I hold out for some shollow Hollywood cliché?
We’re not that different you and I
We all fall short, but still we try
To soothe the restlessness that burns within us everyday
A thousand different path we take
Through all kinds of grand mistakes
In our essential yearning for the ultimate embrace
Reality has called by bluff
I sometimes think I’ve had enough
But maybe being a fool for love’s my ticket to the human race
Words and music © Mark Baumgarten.
Mark is an SCM WA friend who actually makes a living out of playing music.
What give YOU hope?
“Prayer gives me hope. When I see God’s footprints in my life as answers to prayers I am encouraged and strengthened.”
“When I see people’s lives transform as they pass through our church I am also given hope.”
“1.618 (the golden number). Out of all the chaos, nature reflects this ratio, which suggests a foundation and order to life.”
“No matter what, I’ll always be loved by my Creator.”
“I heard the CEO of Argyle Diamonds recently talking about how the company has a responsibility to make life better for the people who live in areas that they mine. They had done a study that showed that, in the time that Argyle Diamonds had been mining, the quality of life of the 15 000 aborigines living around there had declined. What gave me hope was that he cared, and really wanted to do something about it.”
“The sun on my back
Breathing clean air
Seeing a friend smile
Being able to help someone
Kids laughing and having fun at school ”
“Love gives me hope. Yep. Without it everything else is useless.”
“Dreaming.”
“Hope comes from someone believing in me. Hope comes in the form of a smile. Jesus believes in me!”
“My children. When I was a kid things were bleak and difficult and I found hope in recognising that things could be different. Now with my own kids I am witness to that difference in them.”
“What gives me hope is that I keep stubbing my toe on God.”
“Mainly prayer—it gives me hope; every time every day I know that if I pray, God will always answer me. No matter how difficult things are, my relationship with God gives me hope.”
“Quite simply, the expectation of enjoying my life in the future as much as I do now.”
“The fact that I will always be forgiven.”
“By seeing others engage with our broken world and not lose hope—I figure if they can do it maybe I can too. For me this is perhaps the most valuable benefit of having healthy mentors / role models (with Jesus being the ultimate role model in this sense).”
“Watching how children relate to each other.”
“Hearing my staunchly Republican American friend express doubt at the policies of George W. Bush.”
And then there were the people who didn’t like the question:
“Hope is not a noun, but a verb. The question is: what gives me energy to go on hoping? What is it we are hoping FOR? Until I can work out the end point or goal of my hoping, I can’t figure out what is is that gives me hope.”
The above is a compilation of responses from various ASCM voices to the question: “What gives YOU hope?”
Pick up the Phone
We are waiting …
God the faithful,
Protector, Comforter, Aid, Love,
Holy One, In whom we trust,
The phones are ringing on the dead.
How long?
How long are we to wait
While we tear each other apart?
We are hoping, hoping;
We belong to you, faithfil God
But there seems little space lift to rejoice.
The phones are calling:
Be alive!
O God O God, be alive!
Somewhere waiting for a bagged black body
To answer, to pick up a briefcase,
To step off a train and be home.
Waiting, waiting,
Hoping.
Here is death in a wrenched metal cage;
Death in the faces of millions on the streets
Crying out in fear and anger: No!
Death in the language of the politicians
Spinning votes from the threads of shattered lives;
Death in the accusations and fear;
Death, Death, and the phones calling:
Be alive!
O God O God, be alive!
Hoping. hoping, as the bodies stiffen
And the words flow thick and choking.
We are waiting …
Waiting …
O God in whom our hope has rested
Pick up the phone.
A reflection on Psalm 33, written in response to an article in The Age after the Madrid train bombings that quoted a rescue worker saying ‘On many bodies, we could hear the person’s mobile phones ringing as we carted them away.’
Beyond Ourselves
There are many in our day who suffer a crisis of identity. Western culture appears to have been suffering this crisis for some time. This crisis comes when our identity as human persons is exclusively linked with what we do, the outcomes we aim to achieve and the recognition we desire to receive. It is a crisis in the way we balance our uniqueness with our anonymity in the context of a universe which is large and complex beyond our wildest dreams. In this crisis we live with death as a stagehand, forever in the background and not permitted to enter the narrative of our lives. At root this is a plague of the mind and heart in which a healthy perspective on our lives is abandoned. This crisis may be characterised by a fear of being forgotten, of losing the good regard of others, of unfavourable comparison with others or of not making the ‘grade’ in some way. If only we could be recognised for the terrifically skilled, brilliant and shining example we are to the rest of humanity!
Perhaps when the acknowledgement so desired is not forthcoming our friend anger makes itself known. Our expectations might have seemed realistic and well thought, but alas! Perhaps we rage to find our life appearing meaningless when what we thought our ‘success’ depended on is far removed from the reality we actually live. Upon some awakening of consciousness, we may feel depressed to find that we have become so deeply embedded in ourselves, or that our spirit has given up and gone in search of a more inviting home.
A clear and ever present danger comes when this crisis of identity is couched in terms of ‘spiritual’ aspiration. Perhaps all along we have been in search of spiritual achievement and recognition, forgetting Jesus’ wise encouragement to his followers to ‘not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you they have received their reward.’ (Matthew 6:5). It is too easy to put self at the centre of ‘my’ spirituality and to avoid the reality that the ‘power and glory’ are not ultimately mine for the taking.
In our more lucid moments, when the waves of desire for achievement, recognition and activity die down, we might come to ourselves as did the Prodigal Son. Our life becomes pervaded by a growing deep appreciation for all that is. The afternoon glow of sunlight speckled through native bushland is a joyful delight. The patter of much needed rain upon the roof is a sweet melody. The courage of a fellow human being in the face of trauma is balm for one’s self-obsession. Somehow one’s soul sings a seemingly timeless tune of being with something Beyond but in the Midst. All is relevant and everything has its place. Nothing is to be compared with anything.
These ‘lucid’ moments provide some healing for our crisis of identity. They present the possibility of living beyond our fear of being forgotten or going unrecognised. These are not moments to be achieved or moments guided by a timeframe of our own making. We are reminded that to savour life in this way is to know and be known beyond the confines of self and culture. To savour life in this way is also to move from a crisis of identity to an identification with life. It is to move from being embedded in oneself to being embedded in something Greater than self.
Can we identify the moments in our life innervated solely by the Beyond? How can we live such that our light is no longer hidden under the bushel basket of our concern for recognition and achievement?
Matt Lamont lives in Newcastle with Sophia and is employed as a social worker.
Consultation On Climate Change
Our land and ocean is our life,
Our land and ocean is our love,
Our land and ocean is our faith,
Our land and ocean is our hope for the future generation in the Pacific.
Let all the islands rise and sing and to our God their praises bring,
On strings and drums God’s might proclaim to shout the glory of God’s name.
Pasifika, Pasifika, with throbbing reef and coral shore,
For fish and shell and mighty whale, for all God’s gifts our thanks we pour.
In the vast Pacific Ocean lies the small island of Tarawa, the capital of Kiribati. Kiribati is a nation of 90 000 people distributed throughout 33 coral islands and atolls located in the central pacific where the Equator meets the International Date Line. From the 2–5 March 2004, 23 young people from 12 different Pacific Island Nations plus Australia, Norway and the USA gathered for the Pacific Conference of Churches in association with the World Council of Churches ‘Regional Youth Consultation on Climate Change’. Immediately after this, from 6–11 March, 22 additional adult delegates plus numerous facilitators and regional staff join with the youth delegates to attend the ‘Pacific Churches Climate Change Consultation’. The following report and reflections are based on my experiences attending these events.
Visitors to Tarawa, will experience the warmth and care of a close compassionate community. Kiribation people live in villages, which are composed of several families living in a small area rich in community and fellowship. Children are raised not only by the immediate family, but also by the village community. Food is representative of connectedness. A family prepares each dish and when it is time to eat, all the families in the village come together and share the meal together. Every meal is a welcome feast, blessed by dances and celebration, pouring out the love that was put into the preparation. Life is lived in the open within the support and structure of a close community.
Dancing at official welcome feast
The Island of Tarawa is filled with beautiful palm trees, people and sunshine, a paradise that is truly one of God’s creations. However, paradise is under threat. In the Pacific, the sea level is rising. Here it is a fact not a theory. The influence of Climate Change in the Pacific is felt in many aspects of life: the degradation and loss of natural resources and ecosystems, the loss of land, the loss of species, and extreme weather events, to name a few. “…if nothing is done as a matter of urgency, Kiribati like other small island states and low lying costal areas…will continue to suffer in silence the ongoing and increasingly unbearable adverse impacts of climate change and sea level rise…”1. In the Pacific, the most significant effect of climate change is the rise in sea levels resulting from the thermal expansion of the oceans.
Climate change is often thought of as an environmental problem, caused by larger industrial nations, such as the United States and Australia. In this context, it is easier to ignore the problem, as we all know that Pacific Island countries are not responsible for this problem. Unfortunately, while the countries of the Pacific contribute least to the causes of climate change, we will be amongst those most as risk from its negative impacts.2
Like many Pacific Islanders, I had to a certain extent always thought of Climate Change being caused by larger northern hemisphere industrial nations such as the United States, but Australia? Surely we are not that guilty?! Climate Change affects us in Australia! One of the most significant revelations I experienced during the Youth Consultation was realising that many Pacific Islanders view Australia with a similar attitude and distain to that many with which Australians view the United States of America. I was the representative of Australia and subsequently suddenly felt that I was being held responsible and expected to explain Australia’s actions on the issue of Climate Change.
Why is the Pacific Region so vulnerable to Climate Change?
The Pacific region is made up of 22 small-island developing states and territories, many of which are low laying atolls with limited land, human and financial resources. Pacific Islanders depend upon limited natural resources for their existence. Fishing, tourism and agriculture dominate the economies of the Pacific Islands and these sectors all stand to be affected by change in the climate. Pacific Islands are already susceptible to natural hazards such as cyclones, storm surges, droughts and flooding. Scientists are predicting that climate change will see such extreme events happen both more frequently and more intensely.3
In Kiribati, communities are already beginning to observe changes in their natural environment, consistent with those predicted to occur with climate change. Villagers have been forced to move houses to retreat from the rising seas. Traditional burial grounds near the coastline have come under increasing threat and several are now below the high tide mark. Flowers for garlands, an integral part of the traditional dances that tell the history of the islands are becoming harder to find. Traditional weather forecasters are finding it more difficult to predict the weather and the motu of Tebua, Tarawa, which used to be a landmark for fishermen, is now under water.
I have been aware of the predicted problems of climate change and listened to many lectures discussing expected sea level rise but these have always been portrayed as distant events. It would be several years before sea level rise would have any significant affect. It was a strange feeling to be standing on the edge of the water, looking into the lagoon and having old men and women point out the old high tide mark. They also pointed out where their grandparents and other relatives were buried and where the sandy grassy strip above the high tide mark used to be, the place they used to play as children; all were now under water. Sea walls are being built around Tarawa to help minimise the effects of further sea level rise; but should it really have had to come to this?
Kiribati is not the only Pacific Island nation affected by climate change. Every delegate told a similar story of increased extreme weather events, the loss of lands, and the degradation of natural resources. Climate Change in the Pacific is a reality, directly affecting the lives of many people every day. Yet, the Australian and American Governments are still refusing to sign and ratify the Kyoto Protocol. I really do not understand the world. “Climate Change, climate variability and sea-level rise is not just an environmental, but also an economic, social and political issue for Pacific Island countries. It strikes the very heart of their existence”.4
I would like to thank the Council of Churches in Australia for giving me the opportunity to attend the Pacific Churches Consultation on Climate Change. I hope that through sharing the story of my visit to Kiribati I can encourage people to think about the issue of Climate Change and realise that effects of Climate Change are touching the lives of many people in the Pacific right now.
Footnotes
- Government of Kiribati statement at UNFCCC COP6, 2000.
- Climate Change in the Pacific, WWF 2003
- Climate Change in the Pacific, WWF 2003
- SPREP, 2001
Rachel Anderson is SCM national secretary, and currently the only known SCMer in Tasmania.
News from the Movement
Western Australia
Semester 1 has been both very exciting and very challenging for the ASCM in WA. Exciting in that we have more members, more meetings and more happenings than we know what to do with. Challenging as we do battle with the UWA Guild to become affiliated, produce the most fantastical National Conference and prepare for the departure of Bronwyn as WA Staff Worker.
The success of O-Day provided us with many new contacts, who have been slowly incorporating themselves into the SCM-WA fabric. Shared Space, our shared meal and discussion evenings, continue their popularity. Taking on the topics of ‘why is social justice Christian?’, ‘our story and our faith’ and ‘the ASCM story – with Shawn’. The visit of Shawn Whelan to our UWA group exposed our new membership to the world of ASCM and WSCF and hopefully got a few people excited about the ‘bigger picture’ of our small group!
The ASCM-WA UWA group has flourished this semester holding regularly fortnightly meetings, with discussion topics and material provided by the group members. We are currently attempting to convince the Guild of our importance to student life on campus (very easy!) and then we will join the ranks of the Guild Affiliated on campus. The ASCM-WA presence on other campuses has dwindled, with members now only meeting for Shared Space. We will be finishing the semester with a Pizza Night to celebrate the passing of another set of exams.
Our main energy has been put into providing the ASCM with the fun-est and most engrossing National Conference possible. We have drawn on our Ecumenical Network and Interfaith contacts to provide the informative and stimulating input. We will have passionate discussions of all this in our small groups as well as over coffee. And our social committee (Kate & Bronwyn!) has been working overtime to make sure your down time isn’t a downer! Undoubtable there will be a few games of the ‘Mathew Hallis Magical Modified Word Game! Check out the Conference Ad for all the details!!!
The departure of Bronwyn as the WA Staff Worker for WA is a sad time for ASCM-WA, but we look forward to seeing her taking up the role of National Coordinator in July. We are currently searching for a replacement and hope to make an announcement soon.
STOP PRESS STOP PRESS STOP PRESS
SCM WA Area Council has offered the position of WA Staff Worker to Anne Fitzpatrick, and hopes to welcome her into the job at National Conference. Anne has a strong community arts background and has had a long involvement in projects both within her Anglican parish and in the local community.
New South Wales
One of the highlights of Semester One 2004 for the NSW SCM was the Camp we held over the ANZAC day long weekend on the NSW Central Coast themed ‘Over This Violence Thing’. In the tradition of the National Council of Australia (NCCA) Youth Network the camp was part of the NSW SCM response to the Decade for Overcoming Violence. Through a series of wonderful workshops, panel discussions and practical exercises we confronted violence and its impact on our lives and experiences. Through our talking and listening and questioning of assumptions we deepened our inquiry into the nature of violence and what it really means to be called to live a life of active non- violence. One person said of the camp:
“Violence is such a negative for most of us that we do not always acknowledge its presence in our lives. It was good that everyone shared openly from their lives, and set the stage for the sessions that followed.”
There were about 14 SCMers at the camp, gathered from all over Newcastle, Canberra, Melbourne and Sydney and with lots of fellowship, food, singing and chatting we had a great break away from the routines of our everyday lives. With panel speakers covering topics like Violence and Legal Aid, Ecumenism, Homophobia and International Movements for Non Violence we had a fascinating array of perspectives and opinions on the issue of violence in our lives.
The other event that was held in NSW was the Pride Week forum at Sydney University called “Queering Christ”. This forum was a great collaboration between the SCM Queer Project and Queer Campus Christians and attracted about 30 people from both Sydney University and the wider community. There was also some media coverage of the event with an article appearing in Sydney’s queer community paper The Sydney Star Observer and a story being aired on 2SER FM about being queer and Christian.
Looking ahead for 2004 there are currently plans in the making to get together to write Human Rights letters on a regular basis. SCM will also have a presence at the Youth Ministry Expo Day which is being hosted shortly by the NCCA Youth Network.
No other branch reports were received. The e-mail lists suggest that the Vic crew have been getting a bit of on-campus action happening, people in the ACT like eating Indian but will try anything if its cheap, and Queenslanders must talk to each face to face because they don’t e-mail much!
’Cynicism might be an appropriate reaction to injustice that can’t be changed. Hope is an appropriate response to a task that, while difficult, is imaginable …
Struggle confronts pain. Struggle produces joy …
Hope is one of our duties. But that does net mean it is easy. Real hope—the belief in the authentic underpinnings of hope in illegitimate structures of authority is radical. The willingness to act publicly on that hope and that belief is radical …
Even if I’m wrong, I’d rather be wrong with hope than cynicism. I’d rather be naïve than hip. I’d rather work for a just and sustainable world and fail than lose hope.’
Robert ‘Bob’ Jensen, Professor of Journalism
Jubilee Grapevine is a publication for students across Australia, and friends of the Australian Student Christian Movement, to provide a forum for discussion, stimulation and challenge in a Christian context, encouraging a student voice with an emphasis on being open, ecumenical, active and critical. This document is the web version of that publication.
Opinions expressed in this document do not necessarily reflect the views of the editors or of the movement as a whole.
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