I am he as you are me ....

When the Beatles were in their heyday they wrote a song called, I am the walrus. The opening words describe their life together as a group. ‘I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together’. Later in their life as a group on their last album they sang a song which described their life as they were falling apart, ‘I, me mine’.

In a way this epitomizes our choices as the church and as individuals. We can get sucked into the’ I, me mine’ that is often so prevalent in society and the church, or we can catch the vision and power of our Trinitarian God. The one who says that, ‘I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together’.  This is the life-giving model that the trinity portrays.

And we live in a modern culture that calls out the worst individualism in us. It can become all about how much I get out of the latest federal budget, or how wealthy and influential I can become. We are told that we pay too much in taxes to support the vulnerable, We are told to reject the pleas of the asylum seeker in case they affect our way of life.  I, me, mine! Instead, in the trinity, God challenges us to living as compassionate community. To open our hearts to each other and to the stranger.
...Today as God’s people in this place, we are called to be imitators, not only of “Christ, but more especially, of the trinity. You are called to be imitators of the Divine three in one, the God of mystery who somehow can hold difference together and make a whole, the God who is community and who invites us into the dance to be the ones who choose to live our lives as if we are in community with all other human beings and with all of God’s creation. To live this way is to live a compassionate and justice-seeking life and it is to live a life reflecting the God of community that we find in the concept of the Trinity.

So, next time you here the ‘Father, son and holy spirit’ thing, don’t give it up as ‘just history’ or irrelevant. I don’t think we could be living in a more relevant time to be challenged by the communal nature of God.

The compassionate way.

The Dalai ‘Lama once said “Compassion is not religious business, it is human business, it is not luxury, it is essential for our own peace and mental stability, it is essential for human survival.”

If this is so, if compassion is part of the business of being human and essential for our survival, then we are failing badly when it comes to our treatment of asylum seekers in this country. We have, sadly, entered into a time in Australian society where our sense of our humanity, of what it is be a part of a society where compassion and human rights are valued and basic, is under threat.

And we live also in a time when the nature of the truth about our treatment of asylum seekers is twisted. It perhaps began with the ‘children overboard’ lie, and extends to this time when we are being sold the lie that putting men, women and children into indefinite detention in places like the Manus island detention centre is somehow a compassionate act because it is stopping the boats. The great deception is to disguise expediency and selfishness as compassion and to disguise ugly politics as the protection of Australian society. 

On Palm Sunday we celebrate a story in which traditionally a king or messiah would come into a city triumphant on a great steed, but Jesus chose to come into Jerusalem riding a donkey to reinforce that he was not that sort of king. And though Jesus had been preaching and teaching about peace, compassion and an alternative paradigm of life in which the first are last and the last first, on this day, everyone wanted a powerful, forceful king.

The palm Sunday message calls us to live out Jesus' alternative way of being; to live the compassionate way and to find way to welcome the stranger. On Palm Sunday I will be thinking of those who have sought asylum in this country, particularly those who are on Manus island or Nauru. I will ponder their journey, their sacrifice, their shattered hopes, and I will vow to work and pray for transformation in our politics and society that will bring a better, more compassionate way.

The Dalai Lama also said that “Compassion is the radicalism of our time.” As Christians we are called to shout 'hosanna' to this and to be just such a group of such radicals.

True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar.

In reflection upon the Parable of the Good Samaritan, the time is upon us to more faithfully critique the policies and procedures that impact our neighbors, and in doing so, cooperate with advocacy organizations that assist in the countless efforts directed at structural change. Instead of allowing the robbers and innkeepers of our world to profit from modern day “good Samaritans” who focus solely on responding to the latest crisis, we recognize that the entire road to Jericho must be transformed so that no one is beaten and robbed. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., “True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring.” And so, while charity must continue because of the injustices of our present day and age, our ultimate goal is to reach a point of community companionship in which such acts are no longer required. In the mean time, may we be tormented by the ideal of a common good, and by God’s grace, may we trust that justice will indeed prevail.
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/faithforward/2013/07/when-robbers-and-innkeepers-profit-from-good-samaritans/ 

Peace, be still!

When the boat is getting swamped

and the wind and the rain
beat against our faces and drive into our eyes;
when the news bulletins are full of fear and pain,
our leaders point their fingers
and no one takes responsibility;
when women are beaten,
children deal (or don’t) with trauma
and men set their brains aside
for the sake of chemical pleasure;
when the poor are undeserving,
the wealthy are withholding
and compassion is declared a luxury
we cannot afford;
when the weak and the vulnerable go unprotected,
their oppressors go unpunished
and we are no longer outraged by injustice;
then, Jesus,
speak again those words
you spoke to your distraught disciples,
to the out-of-control elements,
and to a planet curtained with tears:
Peace, be still!

 

© Ken Rookes 2015

The Righteous

Righteousness

consists not so much

in keeping oneself free from

all manner of sin and impurity,

(although this could be a consequence for some),

but in living in ways that are governed

by divine principles

of generosity and love.

The sort of foolish care

that treats prisoners with dignity,

recognises strangers as fellow pilgrims,

and offers food, clothing and water

to the least among the forgotten.

The kind of reckless defiance

that befriends the embarrassing,

confronts institutional cruelty and fear,

and supports the claims

of the homeless and the refugee.

The improbable commitment to one’s neighbour

that builds community, creates hope

and strives towards justice.

These, the parable tells us,

are the things that determine

who is truly righteous.

© Ken Rookes 2014

economics of compassion

But in the second part of the story, the ground shifts, the earth moves, and we find ourselves in an entirely different orbit. Jesus now turns to the one who is giving the banquet, the one who functions as Jesus’ patron, and pulls the rug out from under his entire enterprise. ‘You ought not invite people to banquets in order to seek their favour’, he says. One ought not invite one’s patrons. ‘Indeed’, says Jesus, ‘you should not even invite potential clients, those from whom goods and services might be extracted in return for one’s own favour’. ‘When you are preparing a banquet,’ he says to this fellow (and I can see his jaw drop even now), ‘invite only the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.’ In other words, invite only the ‘untouchables’, the very lowest echelon of society, those who are neither patrons nor clients, those for whom there is no economic status at all. Why? Because they could never repay you in a million years. They could never repay you in a million years . . . Can you feel the ground shift? Can you see the tear in those old wineskins? Here Jesus calls the whole system of patron and client into question. He rejects, utterly, the morality of a system whereby people are valued only insofar as they have something to exchange. Only insofar as they are willing to exploit and be exploited. Only insofar as they are able to reduce themselves to relations of usefulness. And he does so on the basis of what can only be called a vision of messianic justice: a strong belief in the patronage of God for all people, a radically different kind of patronage which is given freely and without condition of response. A patronage which gives even the ‘untouchable’ ones a sacred status as children of the Most High God.
Garry Deverell from http://laughingbird.net/ComingWeeks.html

Everywhere I look

Do not neglect to do good
and to share what you have,
for such sacrifices are pleasing to God. Hebrews 13:16
Everywhere I look
I see words, hear a voice
that calls me to love my enemies,
to bear fruits of justice,
to live the grace,
to welcome the strangers,
to visit the prisoner,
to forgive without counting,
to have compassion on the wounded,
to care for my neighbour,
to extend generous hospitality,
to not be afraid,
to treat my fellow mortals
with dignity and respect,
to gather treasure in heaven
and not upon earth,
to guard the interests of the weak,
the vulnerable, the widow and the orphan,
to give the cup of cold water
to the one who thirsts,
to offer food to the one who hungers,
to be a servant,
to make peace,
to be the least,
to follow Jesus.

Everywhere I look.

And these blaspheming party leaders
who tell me they are Christian,
want me to vote for them
so that they may deal cruelly
with the weeping and broken ones,
in order that boats might be stopped.

© Ken Rookes 2013

Building bigger barns

Building bigger barns

Dwelling in the frantic phoniness
that fills the weeks
between the calling of the election
and the voting,
we are confronted by the various parties’ priorities
for building bigger barns.
We shall gather to ourselves
and lock away for the fearful future
those things that make us rich,
that we value above all else.
We shall erect a barn for the borders
that must be desperately protected
from people who voyage in boats;
poor, fearful, and as wretched as the vessels
to which they have entrusted their lives and their hopes.
Wealth shall be gathered into silos
and defended against the ravages of responsibility
that might see it paying for the big clean-up
that everybody knows will have to come. One day.
There shall be a separate, sheltered barn
for leaders afraid of making decisions
that might prove to be unpopular,
lest they no longer enjoy the favour of the people.
This is democracy, and it has its own barn,
galvanized and gleaming in the sun.
There is also a barn, full and overbursting
with responsible economic policies,
that all of our leaders are required to visit regularly,
to establish their correct credentials,
or else we will not place a number low enough
 in the boxes beside their names.
They say that there is a barn, somewhere,
that holds the nation’s store of compassion, truth and justice.
It is apparently a small barn
and there are no proposals to build a larger one;
besides, its GPS coordinates are believed to have been mislaid.

© Ken Rookes

It would have to be a Muslim

It would have to be a Muslim.

The one who nobody in the audience liked,

or had any time for.

The one we are suspicious of,

uncertain of how she/he might fit in.

Dressed strangely,

living according to another set of rules;

whose motivations we question.

Praying in different ways,

refusing to eat our foods;

a sometimes guest

who ignores the polite conventions

we have so carefully constructed

over these past centuries.

It would have to be a Muslim,

who, when Jesus tells his story today,

about the one who took a chance

and stopped to help the wounded man,

is made into the neighbour-hero.

The Good Muslim,

who causes us all to gasp,

as she/he is offered

as love’s shining exemplar.

© Ken Rookes 2013

Good Samaritan Rap

    

One day there came to Jesus a dude who knew the law,

who tried to trick him; "Man," he said, "You know the score!

I want to find my life in God, tell me what to do!"

Jesus said, "You've read the Scriptures, so you should know what is true;

so tell me what they say!" The man opened up his mouth

and said, "Love your God and love your neighbour as yourself."

"You've got it right," said Jesus: "Now you've really made the scene!"

"But who, then, is my neighbour?" said the man. "What does it mean?"

He said, "You gotta love your neighbour!"

Yeah, but tell us what that means.                     (Twice)

So Jesus told a story, he said, "Once upon a time

a man was going down the road from big Jerusal-ime

to Jericho; sun was shining, he was feeling good,

'til some robbers leapt out of the trees and hit him with some wood.

They took his clothes and money, left him lying in the sun,

all a-bleeding and a bruis-ed, soon his life would all be gone.

He wondered as he lay there whether anyone would come

and render him assistance, yeah, he sure did hope for some.

"Well it happened that a holy man was headed down that way,

but when he say the wounded man, he didn't pause or stay -

he crossed the road and walked on by upon the other side;

he didn't seem to care whether the poor man lived or died.

Another man, a Levite, well respected in the town

came down the road and saw the man and gave a little frown.

He thought, 'I'd like to stop and help, but time I can't afford.'

And quickly moved a few steps to the far side of the road.

"Well the people of Samaria were like fans of Collingwood

all the other people thought that they were really not much good.

So when one came on down the road the battered man thought, 'No,

there's not much chance that he will stop.' But little did he know!

The Samaritan felt sorry, he bandaged up the man,

he put him on his donkey, yeah, he gave him a real hand.

He took him to a pub and gave some money to the Landlord.

'Look after him,' he said. 'I'll pay you back, I give my word'"

Then Jesus asked the teacher of the law, "What would you say;

which man acted like a neighbour to the injured man that day?"

He said, "The man who stopped to help, the Samaritan by name."

"That's right!" said Jesus, "He's the one; now go and do the same!"

You know you gotta be a neighbour

Yeah, 'cause that’s what it all means.                (Three times)

© Ken Rookes

Samaritan

Samaritan

I was glad to turn away

from the midday sun,

to head north to Jericho;

pleased to be leaving behind

the heavy dust of Jerusalem

and its superior people.

I am always polite to Hebrews,

one cannot avoid them altogether,

especially when one is in business.

I nod, smile, flatter, strike the deal, and move on,

knowing that behind their equally polite smiles,

they are even more relieved than I

to see me depart.

The man was lying by some rocks,

having dragged his bruised and bleeding body

into the little shade.

He’d been there for some time,

or so it appeared,

his only company

an abundance of flies; the faithful many

who need no invitation

to make themselves welcome.

Stripped naked

with but a few leaves to maintain his dignity,

he could have been Samaritan, like me,

or one of them. In these moments all such questions

are an affront to God;

his blood was red,

so I stopped.

© Ken Rookes

Sermon poem with theology, hopefully relevant

Can we say we believe in the resurrection
when we cling so tightly to earthly life?
Do we fully walk the paths of freedom
while sisters and brothers live in bondage?
When we are anxious about our possessions
are we truly worshipping
one who gave everything away?
If our focus remains narrow,
can we ever be captive to a vision of the kingdom?
Are not our creeds of the Triune God
anything but dry and dusty dogma
when we ignore Jesus’ call to be united?
If we trust in God’s transforming Spirit
can we fear that which is new?
While we resent generosity
shown to the undeserving,
can we be truly grateful
for the blessings that we have received?
If we fail to respect our neighbour,
can we claim to be truly grasped by divine love?
Can we say we serve the God
who enthusiastically befriends mortals,
and pretend that reconciliation is not our concern?
Suffering may demonstrate faithfulness
but does not prove it;
nor does prosperity.
If we claim that God is in our heart
God must also be in our clasping of another’s hand.
The gospel of grace, once it touches the soul,
must be sung, spoken and shouted
and danced through all of life.

© Ken Rookes

A tale of two boats

Last year  I shared in the leadership of a few retreats which had me thinking about the state of the church, about our need to be honest, to face truth, and to face our feelings. I was led to a sort of playful image, a tongue in cheek symbol. Given the difficulties the church is facing, our aging church, our diminishing numbers, and our dismissing status and role in society, the symbol I chose was of feeling like we were up sh*t creek in a barbed wire canoe without a paddle.  I know it's not an optimistic vision, but it feels real. It fitted in well with the ancient image of the boat as a symbol of the church. Robin prior actually made a model of this symbol and gave it to me after one the retreats.

And that was one boat, and it is real.

But I also have another story.

I have dear friend who is a potter. His name is John and he has the soul of an artist. We regularly have lunch, share veggies and sing a few songs together. He is not a Christian, but he is a deeply spiritual man.

Sometime late last year, he began having a dream of a golden boat, and then dreamed of making such a boat. He sketched, made models, practiced the form and shape over many months. Then a month or so ago, at one of our catch ups, he proudly showed me the finished work. 

I was very impressed and moved, but it took me a couple of weeks to really begin to listen to the message.

Here, in this symbol, was something that stood in stark contrast to my barbed wire canoe, and I began to hear the divine voice speaking to me through it.

This boat is gold, and, unlike the canoe, it has many oars, it is going somewhere and has many workers, and at its centre ....is the cross, a sign of the power of grace and love and the presence of the divine at the heart of our life."

So which is the greater truth?

It is important for us to know who we really are and what we are really facing, and that is powerfully represented for me in the symbol of the barb wire canoe, but the golden boat reminded me that there is more to the church than that.

In the golden boat I am reminded that the church at her best is a precious carrier of the message of God's love and the power of grace and compassion.

So there it is folks. The tale of the two boats. I guess one of them may give us one sense of the reality of our situation, but the other, for me, is a mysterious gift of God. One which is a gift of hope and perhaps a greater truth.

Make of it what you will, but may God bless our journey together, and may just such a golden vision inspire us to be together what God would have us to be.

The meaning of the cross

"What if we see on this cross not a transaction with an offended mountain god, but a revelation at a moment of time of the love which is eternally in the heart of God, lived out in the long trek of Jesus? What if we smile at our failed and compromised images of paid penalties, sacrificial blood, ransoms, and punishments, all of which reflected some truth but also distorted it, and see in this historical moment a climax of lived love and lived hate, of the gods of religion and the God of compassion, of the political suppression of change and the unwillingness to recant on care? Then he died for us, against us, within us, before us - in a moment frozen in time for all time. And perhaps, then, we begin to know. "

William Loader
http://wwwstaff.murdoch.edu.au/~loader/mountain.htm

Christ in the wilderness: The Hen

Stanley Spencer paints like a grounded angel;
his Jesus sprawls upon the earth
as one who is at home in the wilderness
humble. His sad face broods distractedly
over the red hen gathering her precious chicks.
His thoughts will not be contained
within the picture’s frame
At one with creation,
and aware of the complex threads
of interdependence between its creatures,
bird and insect, fox and fowl;
he understands darkly the pain and the dying
that are life’s unavoidable consequence.
When he departs, the hen will be on her own
and her brood vulnerable once more.
Ah, Jesus, you cannot be everywhere;
you will have to allow
‘nature, red in tooth and claw’*
to find her own balance,
and you will have to trust
that those whom you have called
will continue to weepingly reach with love
to Jerusalem’s waiting children,
and all the others.


* In Memoriam A.H.H., a poem by Alfred. Lord Tennyson



© Ken Rookes

The Gospel

"It seems to me that it is a minority that ever gets the true and full Gospel. We just keep worshiping Jesus and arguing over the exact right way to do it. The amazing thing is that Jesus never once says, “worship me!”, but he often says, “follow me” (e.g., Matthew 4:19). Christianity is a lifestyle—a way of being in the world that is simple, non-violent, shared, inclusive, and loving. We made it, however, into a formal established religion, in order to avoid the demanding lifestyle itself. One could then be warlike, greedy, racist, selfish, and vain at the highest levels of the church, and still easily believe that Jesus is “my personal Lord and Savior.” The world has no time for such silliness anymore. The suffering on Earth is too great." http://myemail.constantcontact.com/Daily-Meditation--Compassionate-Action----September-8--2012.html?soid=1103098668616&aid=0dakmIEvssw

Only one thing

Too much smug,

ticket-to-heaven thinking,

(I nearly called it theology),

in the fundamentalist roots

that many of us share. But,

says gospel-writer John

and those who appropriated his name

in later letters, there is only one thing

by which we are made friends

of Jesus.

If the proof is in the eating,

then the fruits are surely

in the doing, the listening,

and the obeying of the commandment.

The agápē word was spoken often

and enacted on more than one occasion

by the man who embodies

self-giving, generosity and compassion.

This utterance at the centre

of his living,

and translated into our language,

has become so tired

that I am reluctant to employ it.

Made a cliché,

the word spills effortlessly

from undiscerning lips,

and only occasionally finds expression

through committed hands

and outraged hearts.

But, it seems to me,

this one thing alone causes God,

(however she is conceived),

to smile;

only one thing.

© Ken Rookes 2012

our mission

Solidarity, compassion, caring, communion and loving. Such values and inner powers can lay the foundation of a new paradigm of civilization, the civilization of the humanity reunited in the Common House, on the Planet Earth.... Our mission is to celebrate the greatness of Creation and connect it again to the Core where it came from and to where it will go, with care, lightness, joy, reverence and love. -Leonardo Boff
http://www.edgeofenclosure.org/proper22a.html

The prophet makes the strangers welcome

Ken Rookes © 2011

Etching and aquatint

Posted in response to events of recent days.
Thank you, High Court of Australia, for lessening our shame.

living from compassion

"Paul has just challenged the Roman Christians to see themselves as the body of Christ. Individuals are like members of that single body. Each member has a part to play. There is no room for rivalry and also no need for it, because our confidence rests not on making ourselves better than others but in believing the gospel: that God values each one of us. God's righteousness or goodness is the foundation of our faith and our being.
What does it look like when people live on that basis? In our passage we see something of the answer. It could easily have come straight from a Jewish teaching manual of the time. There is nothing particularly Christian about it. It represents the best values Paul has learned and now sees as needing to characterise the community of faith. Notice the focus on genuineness and the priority of love. That is no empty commitment. It includes recognising what is not love, namely evil and resisting its sway. The good we are to hold close to is defined by love, not by a set of rules. It is not about not doing anything wrong, but about living from compassion."
from http://wwwstaff.murdoch.edu.au/~loader/AEpPentecost11.htm