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Showing posts with label self-sacrifice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-sacrifice. Show all posts

Sunday, 28 August 2022

Everyone in

Here's the sermon that I preached in this morning's Eucharist at St Mary's Runwell:

When the Covid-19 pandemic began, the government set up an initiative called Everyone In. This aimed to provide a hotel room plus support to everyone sleeping rough on the streets. This new national homelessness strategy proved extremely effective and resulted in a large number of formerly homeless people moving into longer-term accommodation and therefore leaving the streets.

The policy demonstrated that with the right levels of funding and support, homelessness can be almost eradicated. The government's motivation for this approach was not so much concern for homeless people, as concern that Covid-19 would circulate more rapidly and aggressively if homeless people remained on the streets.

Without that imperative driving government policy, approaches to tackling homelessness have now returned to what they were pre-pandemic and the numbers living rough on our streets have risen significantly once again, and will rise further due to the cost of living crisis.

In our Gospel reading today (Luke 14.1, 7-14), Jesus talks about the limitations of charitable activity that is based on calculations of benefit for ourselves but also uses self-interest as a motivation to move towards a greater degree of selflessness.

Jesus lived a life of self-sacrifice without benefit for himself in order to bring love to others. Through the incarnation he gave up equality with God the Father to become the servant of humanity, as the teacher of his disciples he gave them an example of service by washing their feet, and, on the cross, he laid down his own life for the sake of all.

His ultimate challenge to us is to live life for the benefit of others or, as he explains here, to invite and welcome all those unable to repay us for our hospitality precisely because they cannot repay. True love is only true when we gain no personal benefit from it. When we benefit from our relationships with others, even with God, it means that we are not loving simply for the sake of the other but for a range of other reasons.

Jesus recognises, however, the challenge that this poses to people like us - each and every human being – as those for whom self-interest and survival are hard-wired into our being. Therefore, he teaches us by means of the Parable of the Dishonest Steward, a story of a shrewd manager who learns the benefits of relationships through self-interest after losing his job or challenges us to go further towards self-sacrifice by saying in the Parable of the Persistent Widow that, if hard-hearted people, like the Judge in that story, can do kind things for selfish reasons, should we not go further.

On this occasion, he challenges those who are self-interestedly taking the places of honour at a meal by using the logic of their self-interest to argue for greater humility on their part. He says it's actually of greater benefit to you to take the lower place initially and be called up, than to take the higher place and be demoted. He makes this argument, however, to try to start them on a journey towards greater humility and awareness of others, not to simply maintain them in a mindset of self-interest.

So, where, I wonder, are we on this journey towards selflessness? Are we at the beginning, like the guests at the meal, competing for the places of honour but open to the idea that there may be a different way to achieve their goals? Or are we further down the road of selflessness finding ways to be with others that don't involve personal benefit for ourselves? The important thing is to begin and to recognise that it's a lifelong journey.

Like any journey, though, it is one with a destination. The destination towards which we are heading is heaven, a place where we enjoy God, others, and ourselves for who and what we are, rather than for the benefit we can receive from others.

In heaven there is nothing to fix and nothing we need – no more death, mourning, crying or pain - instead there is just the experience of being with others and growing in appreciation for who they are as themselves. That is the reality Jesus is looking towards here with his talk of relationships that don't involve repayments for us. Once we go beyond relationships from which we get personal benefit and move into relationships which are simply about enjoying others for who they are, then we are approaching heaven.

With that mindset, the name of the government's pandemic homelessness strategy takes on additional significance. Everyone in. That's what Jesus is talking about when he says we should invite to our meals those who are normally excluded and cannot repay us. Everyone in. That's what our churches should be like, because they should be providing a taste of heaven. Everyone in.

But note that what Jesus commends here is also just a stage on the journey. Inviting those who cannot repay because they cannot repay is a way of creating in us a mindset of seeing God in others by appreciating others for who they are, rather than what they can do for us. When we have that mindset, then we are in heaven by being with others and enjoying them for who they are. That is when inclusion becomes reality, with others and ourselves accepted and appreciated and understood and loved as we are. Everyone in. A real taste of heaven. That's the destination towards which Jesus wants us to travel. Have we begun?

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Ho Wai-On - You Are Not Alone.

Tuesday, 2 December 2014

Values and the life of Christ

Yesterday I had the privilege of sharing some thoughts about the values of Christianity with an RE class at Little Heath School. Here is a link to the report on the visit that has been posted on the school website - http://news.lheath.net/2014/12/reverend-evens.html. We thought about values of empathy and self-sacrifice by looking at several different images.

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Luxury - To You Who Gave Me Hope And Were My Light.

Thursday, 15 August 2013

Nothing and everything

In the fertile desert
In the presence of absence
In the stillness of chatter
In the sounds of silence
In infinite simplicity
In the simplicity of the infinite
Life laid down in order to live
Leaving in order to arrive
Kenosis in incarnation
Embodiment in abandonment
Life in death
The possession of nothing
Coincidence of opposites
The first last and last first
All become One
Coinherence
Deification
One with the Son
Being fulfilled in the Word
Speech completed in silence
Unity which is nothing
and everything

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Arcade Fire - Black Mirror.

Sunday, 18 November 2012

The Lion King: Aslan and Jesus

Aslan is the great lion in C. S. Lewis’ Narnia stories. In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Eustace says to Edmund “Do you know him – who is Aslan”?
“Well, he knows me” said Edmund.  “He is the great Lion, the son of the Emperor over sea, who saved me and saved Narnia”. 
There’s a key scene in both the book and the film of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe about the great lion Aslan. In it, Mr Beaver says, “Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great Lion”. Mrs Beaver adds, “If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly”.
“Then he isn’t safe”?  said Lucy.
“Safe”, said Mr Beaver, “who said anything about safe? Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you”.
He is King, he is good but he is not safe. These are three keys concepts about Aslan, the great lion. Goodness is a powerful concept and a powerful way to live but it can also be dangerous.  Not letting wrong or evil win can take you to dangerous places, in life and in relationships, at work, with friends and we’ll come onto that in a moment. But we begin with a different kind of power, the creative power of Aslan which brings the land of Narnia itself into existence.
In The Magician’s Nephew C. S. Lewis tells us how Aslan sings Narnia into existence using only his voice to create and then makes creatures and gives them a commission of stewardship telling them, “I give to you forever this land of Narnia. I give you the woods, the fruits, the rivers…The Dumb Beasts whom I have not chosen are yours also”. Aslan, therefore, has immense creative power and authority over all he has made.
Despite this great power and authority Aslan sacrifices himself for the sake of those he has created. He saves Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy plus all of Narnia by allowing himself to be captured, humiliated and killed.  Aslan agrees to let himself be sacrificed in Edmund's place, the Witch binds him to the Stone Table and kills him there. He puts himself in dangers’ way for a reason as he later explains: "[…] when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead […] Death itself would start working backwards."
This is the amazing thing about Aslan's sacrifice: by taking Edmund's place, Aslan is able to save Edmund, but also to save himself and everyone else. There's a special power he can access by being a willing and innocent victim.
Through Aslan’s sacrifice we see that goodness is a powerful concept and a powerful way to live but that it can also be dangerous because not letting wrong or evil win can take you to dangerous places. You only find out if you are courageous like a lion when life gets difficult – when a decision has to be made, and the right thing to do is the most difficult. 
Another reason why goodness may be dangerous is that to meet Aslan is "to meet someone who, because he has freely created you and wants for you nothing but your good, your flourishing, is free to see you as you are and to reflect that seeing back to you".
In other words, to see yourself as others see you might be discomforting but it will also always be skewed by the distorting lens of their self-interest. To be unmasked as God sees you is painful because purgative, but is also a path to true liberation. It is merciful because without it we are left in a citadel of self-deception, life's energies being sapped and wasted on bolstering self-regard.
We see this most clearly through one of the most vivid scenes in the whole series which comes in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Eustace – the spoiled child of non-smoking teetotal vegetarians: never a good sign in Lewis – is turned into a dragon. He tries to peel off his skin but finds only another set of scales. It takes Aslan to cut his claws in deep and rip it off – a “feeling worse than anything I’ve ever felt”, as Eustace says – for him to be reborn. Aslan can dig deep enough into Eustace’s life - to his very heart - to make him a completely new creation.
In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader Aslan tells the children that he is also in their world, but he goes by a different name and once, when a young boy could not figure out what Aslan’s name was in this world, Lewis wrote in response:
“I want you to guess. Has there never been anyone in this world who (1) Arrived at the same time as Father Christmas (2) Said he was the son of the Great Emperor (3) Gave himself up for someone else's fault to be jeered at and killed by wicked people (4) Came to life again (5) Is sometimes spoken of as a Lamb... Don't you really know His name in this world?”
Revelation 5:5 pictures Jesus as a lion king when it says: Stop weeping, behold the Lion that is from the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He can open the scroll…”
Like Aslan, Jesus is a creative force. In Colossians we are told that “God created the whole universe through him and for him.Like Aslan, Jesus sacrifices himself for others. He has the courage of a lion. In Gethsemane, knowing he is soon to die, he prays, “Father let this cup pass from me” but then his courage says, “But not my will but yours be done”. Finally, like Aslan with Eustace, Jesus is the light which has come into the world to show up our evil deeds enabling us to repent and be transformed.
The things Aslan does and says in the Narnia stories are, as Lewis said, simply the things Jesus really did and said but the comparison of Jesus with Aslan brings out the sense “that something really quite fierce [or strong and powerful] has taken hold of people” when they turn to God.” As Hebrews 10. 31 says, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” As Mr Beaver said of Aslan, Jesus isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.
This sermon uses material from: http://www.shmoop.com/lion-witch-wardrobe/; http://narnia.wikia.com/wiki/Eustace_Scrubb; http://kezzie-kez.blogspot.co.uk/2007/04/eustace-dragon-meets-aslan.html; http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/9429139/Rowan-Williams-Aslan-is-on-the-knife-edge-of-the-erotic.htmlhttp://cocopreme.hubpages.com/hub/TheIdentityofAslanSymbolismintheChroniclesofNarnia and Stroud, ‘Chronicles of Narnia’.

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Switchfoot - This Is Home.

Thursday, 16 August 2012

The Dark Knight Rises

Having watched The Dark Knight I commented that it was the theme of sacrifice and substitution, which runs throughout the film, that set up the possibility of a sequel and may become the most interesting development emerging from the film. Having seen The Dark Knight Rises tonight that is unquestionably the case as, like Harry Potter, with its conclusion the series becomes an imaginative retelling of the 'Greatest Story Ever Told.' Alfred plays Judas to Bruce Wayne's Jesus while Peter's denial features both in Foley's reluctance to commit to the resistance and also in the use made by Bane of Commissioner Gordon's confession speech. To cap it all there is even a resurrection appearance included. Why is that stories of those who make the ultimate sacrifice for others retain their power and fascination even in what often seems to be a cynical, sceptical and selfish age?

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Extreme - Peacemaker Die.

Thursday, 10 May 2012

Self-sacrifice and distinctive Christianity

I’ve read Andrei Tarkovsky’s Sculpting in Time immediately after Sam Norton’s Let us be human and have been fascinated to find that both have been addressing the same issue; that only by becoming more distinctively Christian can we engage constructively with the crises of our times.

For Tarkovsky, writing in the 1980s, the crisis is that of competing ideologies where the “assertion of class or group interests, accompanied by the invocation of the good of humanity and the ‘general welfare’, result in flagrant violations of the rights of the individual, who is fatally estranged from society.” The individual either “becomes the instrument of other people’s ideas and ambitions” or else becomes “a boss who shapes and uses other people’s energies with no regard for the rights of the individual.” He argues that “the laws of a materialistic worldview” are that “selfish interests ... make up a ‘normal’ rationale for action.” Modern man, he suggests, “is not prepared to deny himself and his interests for the sake of other people or in the name of what is Creator.” As a result, “many of the misfortunes besetting humanity are the result of our having become unforgivably, culpably, hopelessly materialistic.”  This is particularly dangerous because “we seem to have a fatal incapacity for mastering our material achievements in order to use them for our own good” and “have created a civilization which threatens to annihilate mankind.”
For Norton, the contemporary presenting issue is that of peak oil; limits or a peak to the volume of fossil fuels which can be produced leading to a decline in production. Because our “contemporary way of life in the affluent West is built around the easy availability of cheap liquid fuel,” peak oil inevitably means significant change and challenge for our culture. However, it also exposes an underlying predicament, “that exponential growth cannot continue within a finite environment.” Exponential growth – “the continued doubling of a quantity over time” – has been worshipped as an idol within Western society because such growth in water use, food production, steel production, and our economies generally “has led to great abundance in the rich countries, and a much higher quality of life for those who live in industrialised countries.” Our “way of life has been built around the maintenance of exponential growth – and as that way of life crashes into ecological limits, so too will that way of life.” Norton writes that for this way of life to come to an end will be a blessing, because “our present way of life is a terrible, terrible pestilence on creation.”
So, the presenting issues which they address differ but the underlying issue or predicament which they identify is broadly similar. Both also criticise the place that science has come to assume within our society.
Norton argues that the “origin of our frenetically anti-phronetic society” – phronesis is practical judgement - “lies in the political assertion of science at the expense of Christianity.” This has taken two forms; first, “to say that scientific truth is the only truth” and second, that what we gain from processes of scientific investigation is more important than anything else. To make these two assertions downplays “the knowledge and awareness that can come through understanding poetry or art or great fables and stories” and also the passing on of wisdom which “is conducted through the rites and practices of religious faith, the telling of stories and sharing of rituals that embody and express a particular way of viewing the world and asserting a particular pattern of value.”   
Tarkovsky uses a more poetic and ambiguous image to again say something broadly similar:
“Seeing ourselves as protagonists of science, and in order to make our scientific objectivity the more convincing, we have split the one, indivisible human process down the middle, thereby revealing a solitary, but clearly visible, spring, which we declare to be the prime cause of everything, and use it not only to explain the mistakes of the past but also to draw up our blueprint for the future.”
Tarkovsky argues that “the individual today stands at a crossroads, faced with the choice of whether to pursue the existence of a blind consumer, subject to the implacable march of new technology and the endless multiplication of material goods, or to seek out a way that will lead to spiritual responsibility, a way that ultimately might mean not only his personal salvation but also the saving of society at large; in other words, to turn to God.”
Similarly, Norton, after saying that our “way of living – the western way of life, with its excess consumerism and mindless destruction of creation – this way of life destroys life,” then writes that the “vision of Christian life, of full humanity, is that there is a way of life shown to us by Christ which allows us to be all that God intends us to be.”
Their different vocations – of film-maker and priest – then lead them to develop slightly different emphases in the working out of the way that leads to wisdom and spiritual responsibility.
The key for Tarkovsky is to rediscover “the Christian sense of self-sacrifice,” “the Christian ideal of love of neighbour”:
“Concerned for the interests of the many, nobody thought of his own in the sense preached by Christ: ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’ That is, love yourself so much that you respect in yourself the supra-personal, divine principle, which forbids you to pursue your acquisitive, selfish interests and tells you to give yourself, without reasoning or talking about it; to love others. This requires a true sense of your own dignity: an acceptance of the objective value and significance of the ‘I’ at the centre of your life on earth, as it grows in spiritual stature, advancing towards the perfection in which there can be no egocentricity.”
Tarkovsky’s can be seen as a slightly individualistic conception of the spiritual way. It is one which sees little value in the contemporary Church:
“Not even the Church can quench man’s thirst for the Absolute, for unfortunately it exists as a kind of appendage, copying or even caricaturing the social institutions by which our everyday life is organised. Certainly in today’s world which leans so heavily towards the material and the technological, the Church shows no sign of being able to redress the balance with a call to spiritual awakening.”
Tarkovsky’s alternative to the Church is art:
“In this situation it seems to me that art is called to express the absolute freedom of man’s spiritual potential. I think that art was always man’s weapon against the material things which threatened to devour his spirit. It is no accident that in the course of nearly two thousand years of Christianity, art developed for a very long time i the context of religious ideas and goals. Its very existence kept alive in discordant humanity the idea of harmony.
Art embodied an ideal; it was an example of perfect balance between moral and material principles, a demonstration of the fact that such a balance is not a myth existing oly in the realm of ideology, but something which can be realised within the dimensions of the phenomenal world. Art expressed man’s need of harmony and his readiness to do battle with himself, within his own personality, for the sake of achieving the equilibrium for which he longed ...
Art affirms all that is best in man – hope, faith, love, beauty, prayer ... What he dreams of and what he hopes for ...
In a sense art is an image of the completed process, of the culmination; an imitation of the possession of absolute truth (albeit only in the form of an image) obviating the long – perhaps, indeed endless – path of history ...
Finally, I would enjoin the reader – confiding in him utterly – to believe that the one thing that mankind has ever created in a spirit of self-surrender is the artistic image. Perhaps the meaning of all human activity lies in artistic consciousness, in the pointless and selfless creative act? Perhaps our capacity to create is evidence that we ourselves were created in the image and likeness of God.”
Norton, by contrast, sees a much more significant role for the Church:
“The heart of what the Church is about is worship, because worship is where we learn to be different. Worship is the primary means of making disciples. This is why worship and getting worship right is so important, because worship is where we come into the presence of God formatively, and we are formed differently. We hear the word, we share the sacrament and that changes us ... Spiritually, this is the answer to the predicament which our civilisation faces. This is where we learn the wisdom that is the antidote to the poisonous asophism which afflicts our culture. The Church Fathers said ‘The Eucharist makes the Church’. I want to add ‘The Eucharist heals the world’.”
This focus though does not in any sense mean that he thinks that the church has perfectly fulfilled this role. Instead he writes:
“For all the things that are going wrong in our world the church must confess its own responsibility. It is because the people who have custody of the knowledge of God and whose duty it is to teach that knowledge of God have failed in their task that our civilisation has come to be in the predicament we now have to endure.”
Tarkovsky might well agree. While the Church, not the Arts, are Norton’s main focus, we have already noted his valuing of the Arts. He also writes that “the common recognition that science has too important a place in our cultural life has only been able to be voiced at the margins of society, amongst poets and playwright – those whose scientific credibility is not strong.”
He calls us to “get on with the task of building our cathedrals of justice, forgiveness and kindness in our communities, and walking humbly alongside the Lord, who is with us, letting Him teach us what it means to be human”:
“All of which is saying that the practice, the actual living out of Christian faith comes before the proclamation. The living out of the faith is foundational because that is what gives the words their weight. The practice is something which changes us on the inside and radiates out into our wider lives.”
It would seem possible that Tarkovsky had not encountered a contemporary church practising the faith in the way Norton describes and it would be interesting to know whether such an encounter would have changed his view of the Church. His injunction to “love yourself so much that you respect in yourself the supra-personal, divine principle, which forbids you to pursue your acquisitive, selfish interests and tells you to give yourself, without reasoning or talking about it; to love others” is  a focus on “the practice, the actual living out of Christian faith” about which Norton writes.      
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Olga Sergeeva - Kumushki.