Wednesday, 21 May 2014

St. Francis and the budget:  Minores and Maiores

I have been anguishing over the budget brought down last week.  I can’t begin to comprehend how it will fracture the fabric of our Australian society which is generally characterised by a sense of generosity and egalitarianism.

The budget targets people who are ‘on the margins’.  People who are disabled, unemployed, refuges, aged and people on lower incomes to name a few.  However, in all the rhetoric and justification the proponents (whether politicians or apologists) are demonising people who fall into these ‘categories’ as improvident or just plain shifty.

Yesterday, in an email to a friend overseas, I mentioned that she would be coming back to a very different Australia.  In her reply she said she had heard that it ‘was not helpful to the small people’.  Now, normally this would be enough for me to make a sharp and probably unkind reply about the use of ‘small’.  Humans are not ‘small’.  People who suffer are never ‘small’ i.e. of little account or influence.

However, I started thinking about this word ‘small’ given to people who struggle on as best they are able and are not members of a wealthy or power group.  It is a word that, while usually used with the kindest intentions, serves to marginalise and patronise people even more.

Then I thought about St. Francis.  Remember, Francis himself was from the rising powerful merchant class – the ‘maiores’ - yet he called his friars ‘minores’ – lesser brothers.  In doing this he put them in juxtaposition to the ‘maiores’, those with feudal and ecclesiastical power.  In doing this Francis stood in loving identification with Jesus ‘who became poor for us that we might become rich’ and therefore all who were poor.

This meant he, his brothers, Claire, her sisters and the lay folk who followed him consciously, deliberately, intentionally became one with of those who were powerless and poor.  This was not only a spiritual choice (if there is such a thing) inseparable from this deliberate choice was the step to abolish the gulf between human beings.  Thus the minores, the underbelly of poor, suffering society, could no longer be hidden and ignored or even spiritualised (i.e. your reward is in heaven; god is punishing you; you are favoured with this suffering).  Francis’ love for and identification with the minores made them visible.

At the same time this identification meant active care.  To lift people from poverty and alleviate suffering was central to being ‘minor’.  Care for the lepers, solidarity with poor workers whether in the countryside or in the burgeoning towns was their vocation.  This was a time of enormous social change as the merchants grew in wealth; they could buy everything from power to knowledge to people.  Many of the earliest guild charters that ensured fairness for the workers were signed in Franciscan friaries.

Over time the Franciscan spirit of minority swept Europe, particularly as the secular Franciscans included workers, nobility and royalty.  Vowed to live frugally, peacefully and justly these people changed their society, economics and politics.  There was a flowering of compassion.

This choice of Francis’, a choice made of passionate love for Christ the poor one who is our brother is at the heart of the Gospel and therefore at the heart of everyone who professes belief in the God of Jesus.  In one way or another, we are all asked to be ‘minores’ i.e. to be in solidarity with our suffering sisters and brothers. To give visibility and voice to those people who will suffer because compassion and human solidarity no longer are part of economic planning.  This asks us to do whatever is possible within our own life context to speak and minister.

I have a problem with language.  As we turn adjectives into nouns i.e. the poor, the disabled, the aged etc. the tendency is to see some amorphous group, to forget that it is a living, striving, struggling, glorious flesh and blood person who is the icon of Jesus that we are talking about.  These collective words have a tendency to distance us from the individual human reality, and so compassion and justice disappear.  We forget that economics is to serve people and create a more equitable society.

So, in thinking about the budget and its potential effects on all of us, I need first to pray.  Prayer brings perspective (to see things through the eyes of God of Jesus) and enables forgiveness and compassion for all, including the supporters of the budget.  Then I need to do what I am able to do within my skills and capacity to remind our government that it is governing for all Australian people.  The quality of a country is related to its care for people who are disadvantaged in order to close the division between ‘minores’ and ‘maiores’.

To be ‘minor’ is not about anger, party politics or division; it is about love, a love that recognises that we are truly sisters and brothers.

Sunday, 5 January 2014

The Magi



The Magi

Like so much associated with the Christmas story, I find it is easy to slip into the images of crib, stable, nuclear ‘holy family’ and so on.  The Gospels present the stories of Jesus’ birth in this way to some extent.  Each story within the story is set almost as a separate mosaic within the larger mosaic. 

However, the readers of (or listeners to) Matthew and Luke’s stories would have understood the significance of words, imagery and characters which were drawn from their own Jewish Scriptures, the Jewish Midrashim and from past and contemporary events.  Because of this, these stories became the lens through which the community came to understand the startling depth of God’s acts in Jesus who is named ‘God with us’.

The coming of the Magi in Matthew’s gospel is part of these small mosaics that make up the larger picture.  These ‘astrologers from the east’ (Mt. 2:1) come to the obvious place to enquire about a ‘newborn king’ – Herod’s palace.  They expected to find the child in the place where kings live i.e. the palace.  According to Matthew, this mistake cost the lives of many, many children (Mt. 2:16-18) and in Matthew’s story already the shadow of persecution and death is present.

Herod’s priests and scribes direct them to Bethlehem, so armed with this information and again guided by the star they find the child in the most unlikely of places.  Matthew does not have Jesus born in a stable; a home birth is inferred because Joseph and Mary lived in Bethlehem.  So the Magi (in this story) come to the house of Joseph and Mary - a house probably like most of the others in the town which was home to an extended family of local artisans.

The Magi, as drawn by Matthew, were possibly royal astrologers of a priestly caste used to wealth, comfort and power.  Seeing this baby, proclaimed by both astrology and Hebrew prophecy to be king, born in very ordinary and humble circumstances, would have shattered their preconceptions.  T.S. Eliot in his poem Journey of the Magi, wrote
              
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,…..

The gifts they brought have been interpreted in the Christian tradition as proclaiming Jesus as king, priest and foreshadowing his death.  However, in the ancient world they were the traditional gifts given to a king or a god:  Gold – wealth; frankincense – perfume; myrrh – anointing.  A point overlooked in most commentaries is that these gifts were also medicinal.  They are the gifts of healing.  So these astrologers are honouring Jesus as king, deity and healer of the nations.

Their visit to honour this child brought grave consequences not only for other children in Bethlehem and environs, but also for Joseph and Mary and Jesus.  They became refugees in Egypt because Herod planned to kill any perceived political opposition to him.  The joy of the infancy narratives includes the shadow of persecution and death, foreshadowing Jesus’ life and the reality for Matthew’s community.

Whether the story of the Magi is historical or not, for me is not the main point.  It is the great story Matthew is weaving that tells us what is really happening. 

Some scholars see this story as a Midrash on a Rabbinic Midrash (i.e. a story on a story to explain a significance) that tells of Abraham’s birth that was foretold by astrologers to bring down the king of Babylon and the baby Abraham had to be hidden for some years, so for Matthew Jesus is the new Abraham, progenitor of the chosen people. 

In the family’s refuge in Egypt and return to Judea, Matthew sees Jesus as another Moses who led the Hebrews into the land God gave them.  By likening Jesus to Abraham and Moses, Matthew is telling the Jews and the gentiles in his community that they are all part of the fulfilment of God’s great saving acts.  However, most agree that the story is about welcoming the gentiles into God’s reign and those great saving acts – and into Matthew’s community for whom he wrote.  There is no longer exclusion because of race.

Discussions whether the star was an alignment, a supernova or whether it existed at all seem to me to be irrelevant.  While astrology was forbidden to the Jewish people, there is enough biblical and extra biblical evidence to indicate that it was alive and well.  There is evidence of zodiacs in Synagogues of the time.  Also, Christianity ‘Christianised’ the zodiac as can be seen in many Romanesque and gothic churches.  God is manifest is all aspects of creation thus the zodiac symbols came to represent images of revelation and salvation - a far cry from ‘telling the future’.

Thinking about this story of the Magi, I am reminded that the Magi did not find Jesus in a palace and that in fact the absolute power wielded by Herod was dangerous.  God does not act like this, much as we might like God to do so at times.  Matthew juxtaposes Jesus and Herod and doing so tells us where God is found and what God looks like in humanity.  God’s power manifest in Jesus is not coercive; it is the power of relationships of reverence.

The Magi followed their star and it led them where they did not expect.  The end of their journey asked for a complete conversion of mind, heart and expectations.  Like the Magi, how often does our faith journey call us to this conversion?  We kneel before this baby with the Magi in our giftedness, wealth and splendour, a bit travel stained and weary and know that our gifts, wealth and splendour are all already gifts given to be given away.  If we are a travel stained and weary because of our journey we know that in the receiving and giving of God’s gifts it is all part of the journey and we have the promise that God will wipe away every tear from our eyes.


For further reading:


Tuesday, 24 December 2013

“…. and the soul felt its worth…"


“…. and the soul felt its worth…”[i]

I find this line from the French carol translated into English as ‘O Holy Night’ deeply moving.  I am reminded of Jesus’ words in Matthew 10: 30-31 – ‘Yet not a single sparrow falls to the ground with your Father knowing it…..so do not be afraid of anything.  You are worth more than many sparrows’.  Such tenderness, such reassurance.

Time and time again the Scriptures remind us of how precious each person is to God.  Not in some abstract, theoretical way as a unit of value, but precious as a new born child is precious, as a treasured friend is precious, as a lover is precious.  The Holy One under the name of Divine Wisdom says ‘I found delight to be with the children of humankind’ [ii]

God keeps reminding us of our preciousness because it is just too much for us to take in.  However the more we allow this deep identity we have to change us the more we will know each person, each part of creation is sister and brother

In silence as we allow our own gaze of love rest on the crib we begin to know what Dante called ‘the love that moves the sun and other stars’[iii]  Little wonder that mystics understood Incarnation as the marriage of Divinity to humanity so close is our life in God.

St. Francis of Assisi loved the feast of Jesus’ birth and he always celebrated it with tender exuberance because ‘the Lord of glory became our brother’ and everything, absolutely everything is now sister and brother.  Again, this is not as a theory but as a living fact, a way of living.  The crib of Greccio grew out of this passionate love; he wanted everyone to understand the love that impelled God who became poor for us.

St. Francis frequently prayed, ‘Who are you Lord, and who am I’.  Over and over again he would pray these words which evoked tears of sorrow for his failures in responding to Love, he would weep because ‘Love is not loved’.  Then he would break into joy that could not be contained in himself and he would stutter with joy, he would dance with joy in the knowledge that Love keeps on loving, that Love is relentless in tenderness and forgiveness.

So, gazing at this baby, in the knowledge of the grown man who taught, healed, died and rose, we become aware, even if dimly, of how and how much God loves us and all creation.  Not abstractly but from within but flesh of our flesh.  God enfleshed in Jesus is God-with-us most truly, irrevocably and for all eternity.

In the end words fail, only the heart can begin to savour the mystery of this Love ‘and the soul felt its worth…’


[i] Oh holy night!
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
[ii] Prov. 8:22-31
[iii] Paradiso Canto XXXIII

Wednesday, 18 December 2013

The eight days before Christmas



The Gospel readings from 17 to 24 December intensify the drama of these waiting days and women are at the heart of it.

The Gospel for the 17th recounts the genealogy of Jesus according to Matthew.  This is Jesus’ identity traced back to Abraham.  The genealogy told the rest of the community who you were and a ‘good’ genealogy meant honour.  As the names roll on in their historical and numerical groupings the reader is caught up in the flow of names of the forefathers of Jesus.  At certain points the flow pauses to name foremothers – Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheeba (identified only as wife of Uriah) and Mary.  In a world where identity was named through the fathers, these women are significant.

All these women were vulnerable because there was something questionable about their lives according to the culture of their times but here they are heroines in the unfolding of God’s relationship with Israel.

Matthew’s Gospel for 18 December reveals why Mary is in the company with the women of the genealogy.  She is pregnant and not by her betrothed husband.  Joseph’s ‘justice’ or uprightness was to separate from her quietly rather than expose her to shame and possible execution.  It took a dream of an angel to reassure him.  I wonder how often in later years he must have looked at Jesus and wondered, wondered at these mysterious events.

In the Gospel texts of the following days we contemplate Elizabeth, another vulnerable woman who bore the social and religious stigma of childlessness which was seen as being cursed by God and now facing a dangerous birth because she was older than normal child bearing age.

Did Mary visit Elizabeth for mutual comfort and support?  The older woman having the wisdom of experience and the younger woman filled with hope despite uncertainty about the future.  Two women carrying the mystery of God join forces.  Luke’s Gospel depicts these two women as vulnerable, faithful – the anawim of Israel, the poor ones.  And precisely because of this their meeting results in explosive joy as they sing of God’s salvation and favour.

For Luke these two women epitomise how the mystery of Jesus is welcomed and understood by those of little account in the large scheme of the chosen people.  Just like the women of Matthew’s genealogy.

Luke parallels the annunciation to Zachary and the annunciation to Mary.  Zachary – the priest, representative of Israel before God did not understand.  His loss of speech is more than physical, it is symbolic of his inability to understand and proclaim the mystery.  However, Mary and Elizabeth, women who had no official role understood this momentous manifestation of God.  Later Luke follows this theme with the shepherds.  This mystery is grasped by the most unlikely people.

Angels too are busy in these narratives.  They come to invite, proclaim, reassure, direct, honour and admonish.   The presence of angels heightens the drama.  They symbolise God’s courtesy – no coercion, always invitation.

So as the great feast draws closer, in this time of heightened anticipation, we are invited to sit with these female ancestors of Jesus who held onto a promise at each historical moment of Israel’s history; with Joseph bewildered, compassionate to Mary and obedient to God; the angels, busy and joy-filled; and above all with Elizabeth and Mary both life-bearers, bearing more than physical life, life that is faith, life that is God who is fecund, life that explodes in joy.

In the midst of our Christmas preparations, may we share in the expectant hope of these people of the Gospel.  We never know when angels in strange disguise and in unlikely places may want to whisper words of invitation to us.  May we wait with them in joyful hope.

Friday, 6 December 2013

The Splendour of God



The Splendour of God 

The entrance antiphon for today (Friday of first week of Advent): 

The Lord is coming from heaven in splendour to visit his people, and bring them peace and eternal life.

‘Splendour” what an evocative word this is.  Often it is used to describe some sort of pageantry – the splendour of a royal wedding, the splendour of a lavish spectacle, the splendour of cardinals in procession.  It is connected with political (in the widest sense) power.

We use it too to describe something of beauty – the splendour of a sunrise, or a breathtaking view.

I have a friend who uses it with great enthusiasm as a word of praise – a splendid person, idea, meal etc.  She uses it so well that it allows the recipient to feel delight in their bumbling actions, appreciated by her and that they could do and be even better.

This antiphon proclaims how God will visit us – in splendour.  This splendour is not that of power and pageant it is the splendour of the crib.  God redefines power and glory.

The Gospels claim we find the splendour of God in a child born into uncertain times, into a family displaced at the whim of a ruler and living under foreign rule, a family so threatened with death so they had to escape.  But despite all that, the new life of the baby gives hope and a family is formed in which love, protection and wisdom abide and grow.

Representations of the crib usually have an ox and an ass as part of the display.  This is not just a sentimental idea.  It refers to Isaiah 1:3 - ‘the ox knows its owner, and an ass, its master’s manger; but Israel does not know, my people has not understood’.  We are asked to see this domestic scene with the eyes of God who comes in splendour in Jesus.  So contradictory.

Perhaps this is closer to the use of splendour used by my friend.  The splendour of God comes in ways that have little to do with pageantry, display of dominating power or hubris.  The splendour of God resides in the broken ones of this world; wherever forgiveness, love, compassion, care for others are found; where sisters and brothers call an end to displacement, exploitation, violence in all forms. It is found when we know in our deepest self how God delights in us, gives us God’s own life and power to see and be the splendour of God.

Then perhaps we can see the splendour and beauty of this earth and each sister and brother.