730 things — Day 103 of 365

 Today I was thinking about church, and what it is for, and the vision we hold as faith community in a society that seems increasingly to be in turmoil, gripped by discontent in the steadily increasing masses in poverty and marginalisation, and greed in the decreasing wealthy élite. Someone described capitalism as essentially a massive Ponzi scheme and so it is. Unfortunately the hinterland of resource upon which the centre seeks to draw is steadily expanding — both ecologically and politically, that is both in terms of the Earth's resources and in terms of humanity seen as mere resource. 

As human concern focuses on the spectre of destruction and conflict that sits over our age, religion is drawn in to the antagonisms, and becomes about preserving territory and tradition.

Where I live, the church denomination I belonged to reminds me of a day centre for old people, small congregations clinging with determination to large buildings they cannot maintain without pulling in financial resources from the community, taking what they can while they can, holding on to the last in an effort to keep everything as it used to be.

Thinking about this, I asked myself about the life of Jesus, and his vision and approach — and it occurred to me that even the youngest of my five children is now older than Jesus was when we crucified him. 

Jesus said he came not to bring peace on Earth but a sword — and I thought about what that might mean. I'm not sure about this, but I don't think he meant he came in any sense to wield a sword. Remember how he said those who live by the sword will die by the sword, and how when he was arrested and Peter drew a sword and cut off the ear of the man in the arresting party, Jesus told him to put up his sword, and healed the man. 

But his arrival on Earth did bring conflict and antagonism. From the outset — starting with Herod — people were out to get him, and bring him down, motivated by jealousy because their power bases were the political or religious constructs, houses of cards really, where Jesus brought something undeniably authentic and spiritual in nature; and irresistible power. They couldn't subvert or conquer the power so they tried to snuff out the man.

Therefore in effect, what he did was to absorb into himself the violence his coming aroused. He brought not peace on Earth but a sword — but he didn't use that sword against others; he either avoided its thrust (as in walking away from the mob convened to stone him, or taking to the road as a refugee under Joseph's protection in childhood), or allowed it to pierce and hurt him, in his broken body nailed to the cross. He took it and transmuted it by forgiveness into the spreading radiance of healing and peace that characterises his realm.

So in thinking about how in this current time to keep faith with Jesus, I think there must be something about learning the alchemy of transformation that he showed us to do. It's the way of the wounded healer — the Messiah who must suffer and die — that Mark's gospel sets out to teach. The metamorphosis of our perception of power as the one who sits at the top of the heap and gives orders, to the Taoist vision of the sea that is king of a hundred stream because it sits below them: "Behold, I am among you as one who serves."

Surely part of our discipleship in learning this Quiet Way is the art of relinquishment — learning to let go, not to grab and clutch; to believe in the flow of grace and blessing that is the fountainhead of life, and open our hands in the stream. You cannot hold the power of God, you have to just let it flow through. 

This was the mistake Peter made on the Mount of Transfiguration — "Should we build three little shelters, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah?" Jesus didn't even dignify the stupid question with a reply, but still a couple of thousand years on we see the faith community hell-bent on the same project. Three little shelters. Can that house the power of God?

Meanwhile at home, I continue astounded by the detritus I accumulate. I thought 730 things seemed rather ambitious as a throwing out exercise, but the stuff does keep on being there to unearth. Recently I bought some new clothes, so things that were in the discard pile had to be re-allocated as things to swap out rather than accounted as reducing my stash of belongings. And I wondered if I might not actually manage to discard 730 things. But they do just keep showing up. 

Like this.

A cheap dental kit I bought at some point in the last few years. The pointy things are useless because they are as sharp as needles and serve only to inflict gum injury – and the mirror is unnecessary (to me).

And a presentation box in which I was given some earrings as a gift long ago. 

I don't know if I still have those particular earrings because I can't remember which pair it was, but I kept the box — the same old refrain: "It might come in handy." It didn't.