Second Sunday in Lent

March 16                    NOTES FOR REFLECTION             Second Sunday in Lent

Texts: Genesis 12:1-4a; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3:1-17

Theme:  As we walk to the Cross it becomes ever more urgent to reflect on the fundamental question, why are we going this way?  Surely there’s got to be a better way than this?  That’s at the heart of the struggle Jesus faced in the wilderness last week.  So something in the nature of a question might be a suitable theme for this week.  Perhaps “Are We Sure this is the Right Way?”  Or something equally all-embracing like “Three Good Questions”, based on the recent series by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall (and who isn’t a fan of his?), but more importantly recognising that each of our readings this week has a question at the heart of it.

Introduction.  We start with the call of Abram this week.  In this passage the question is shouted from off-stage, “Are you out of your mind?”  [Come on!  The guy is 75; and suddenly he has decided to up sticks and everything else he owned and head off to start a new life in a land somewhere – but he has no idea where!  You don’t think Sarai was likely to respond, “Are you out of your mind?”]  In the gospel passage Nicodemus, earnest, well-meaning, and essentially a good man of faith, has an equally sincere question to ask: a rough translation might be, “What on earth are you talking about?”  Both of those questions are good questions and the Season of Lent is a good time for us to reflect on them again.  But for me, this week’s prize for the best question goes to St Paul, as he reflects on Abram’s big move.

Background.  St Paul’s question in a nutshell is this.  What did Abram get out of it?  What did he gain from it?  So often, particularly perhaps in the Season of Lent, we place the emphasis on cost; what do we have to give up to be a disciple?  There’s nothing wrong with that question in prospect; Jesus urges would-be followers to think very carefully before committing themselves to him: Luke 14:25-33.  But somehow the question never arises that way in retrospect.  With the benefit of hindsight we see the blessings, and forget the anxieties that plagued us before we set out.

A few years ago I was having a bit of a chat show with a large crowd of people who attended our carol singing before our Christmas Eve Eucharist service: we tend to have a burst of 3 or 4 carols, and then a breather, and during the breather I talk with the people, greeting visitors, asking about their year, and so on.  On this particular occasion I asked an immigrant from the United Kingdom what he missed most from the old country to which he replied with considerable fervour, “Absolutely nothing!”  I must confess I was taken aback, and suspected that he was being more tactful than truthful.  But when I thought about it, and about my own feelings as an immigrant, I realised what he meant.  Of course, we could isolate some things to grumble about – the standard of the New Zealand press, the difficulty in finding really good sausages, or whatever.  But overall, life for us here is so much better n so many ways – and let’s use the religious word “blessed” to make this point – that to think of what we have lost just doesn’t seem to make sense.

I feel just the same about my other great “act of migration” from a well-paid career in law to the somewhat more financially challenging world of semi-stipended ministry.  What have I lost – what did I give up – just doesn’t make sense in retrospect, however troubling such questions might have been for me when I was struggling with the issue of my call.  Of course not every single day since has been an unmitigated joy – some of them have involved vestry meetings and sittings of Synod; there have been days when the darker side of human nature (including my own) has been all-too evident.  And yet, and yet... “Blessing” is the only word that comes close to describing the years that followed my decision to leave my profession and follow those simple words “Come, follow me” that I somehow heard deep within me.

Of course, such calls are individual cases, and for most followers of Christ there is no such dramatic break of domicile or occupation involved.  But this week at St Barnabas we have started a series on “Spirituality & Liturgy”, designed to help us reflect more intentionally on our worship and its role in our spiritual growth.  My basic thesis is that the process of worship is a “recapitulation” of the spiritual journey, and so we began this week thinking about the intention we form each Sunday (or whenever) to “go to church”.  (Note: I want that phrase banned for the whole of Lent (and for ever afterwards): instead, of asking ourselves “do I want to go to church today?” I should ask “do I want to worship God today?”]  That process is a microcosm of the decision to start on a spiritual journey.  In the words of our economists it has a “lost opportunity cost”: if I attend a service in my local church during a certain period of time I lose the opportunity to use that period of time to do anything else – not, of course, something wicked or sinful, but something good in itself – gardening, cooking, taking the dog for a walk, visiting family or friends, or whatever.

So it is with our commitment to the spiritual journey.  It involves a “lost opportunity cost”.  It is not something that we can tack on to everything else we are already doing in our busy lives.  It takes time and patience and commitment.  Like the athlete who must train even when she doesn’t feel like getting out of bed, or the musician who must practise even when he would rather be listening to someone else playing, we must pray even when we don’t feel like it and worship even when it’s raining, if we are to grow spiritually.

And as St Paul’s great question reminds us this week, the question “how much is this going to cost?”, is soon replaced by a joyous exclamation: “look how much I’ve gained!”  [Those who remember Helen Reddy’s great feminist anthem may recall a couplet that goes something like, “Yes, I’ve paid the price, but look how much I’ve gained.”  Sorry, that just popped into my mind for some reason.]  Why in this Season of Lent are we walking the path that leads to the Cross?  Ask me that question on Easter Day and I’ll sing you the answer: “Christ has risen!  Look how much we’ve all gained!” So it doesn’t scan – but it’s still great news, isn’t it?

Genesis.  Here’s a trivial pursuit question to begin with, one that quite a few people who ought to know better get wrong.  From whence was Abram called?  If you think the answer is from Ur of the Chaldees, think again.  His father brought the family out of that great city heading for Canaan, but got as far as Haran and decided that would do.  Abram is called from Haran.  The simplicity of this short passage is the key to its strength.  God calls, Abram, promising him great blessings.  Abram obeys.  That’s it: no request for I.D. (how do I know you’re God – you could be a scammer.) No asking for more time to consider and to consult the other stake-holders.  No requests for insurance or guarantees.  Not even the obvious question, “Go where?”  Sometimes people ask me how they can know God’s will for them.  I always answer that that’s God’s problem, not theirs.  If God has not chosen to make his will clear to us we’re free to choose for ourselves.  The Bible shows that that is rarely the problem: it is when we know what God’s will is and we don’t want to do it that things become more difficult.  Ask Moses.

Taking It Personally.

• Put yourself in Abram’s shoes.  He has heard God calling him to journey off into the unknown.  How will he convince Sarai?  What will the neighbours think?  Does he attempt to construct a logical explanation for what he is about to do; or does he simply state that it is God’s will and therefore is not open to discussion?  Is he excited at the prospect, or dismayed, or indifferent?
• Can you recall an occasion when your faith led you to make a decision that your nearest and dearest found inexplicable?
• Now put yourself in Sarai’s shoes.  How would she respond to Abram’s news?
• Can you recall an occasion when one of your nearest and dearest planned a course of action based on faith that you thought imprudent? How did you react?

 

Romans.  St Paul’s great question offers him another opportunity to develop his favourite theme of God’s grace.  Whatever Abram received, and Paul will come to that shortly, it wasn’t by way of reward for past good works.  Abram had not earned God’s favour.  In fact we know very little of Abram’s character, except for one extraordinary characteristic.  He was open to God – in other words, he was a great mystic.  He heard God speak to him on a number of occasions and his response was always the same: obedience.  Not obedience in the sense of grudging compliance with come provision of law backed by threat of penalty.   (Nor simply a “doormat” response, as the powerful narrative of the near-sacrifice of Isaac brings home to us.) As Paul makes clear, Abram’s calling preceded the coming of the law; so this has nothing to do with good and evil, it is not a matter of ethics.  What this story is about is spiritual formation writ large; a recognition of God, a willing surrender to God, resulting in spiritual growth and much blessing.

 

 

 

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• What have you gained from your faith in God?  Take some time to ponder that question.  Make a list.  How many items are on your list after 15 minutes?  Give it another 5 minutes.  Now how many items are on your list?  Give thanks for each one of them
• Keep your list with you all week.  Add to it as other items come to mind.  Give thanks for each new addition.
• Take your list with you to the service on Easter Day.  Do the same on Pentecost.  Reflect on the difference a practice such as this can make in your awareness of God’s goodness and grace.

 

John.  In this great narrative we see the two worlds in which we live with extraordinary clarity.  Again we notice that Nicodemus is not one of those tiresome know-alls who were for ever trying to entrap Jesus or trip him up.  This man is a genuine seeker after truth, but he has made the mistake that so many intelligent, well-educated people make.  He believes he can think his way to the spiritual truth.  Jesus teaches him differently.  We have two natures, born in two different ways.  We have our human nature acquired in the usual way from our human parents.  But we also have a spiritual nature, which can only be born in and through the Spirit.  The passage ends with two verses that have had very different “careers”.  Verse 16 has achieved superstar status, perhaps the most memorised verse in the whole of Scripture.  Verse 17 is widely ignored, particularly by the evangelical wing of the Church.  Jesus came to save the world, not to condemn it.  And on a related theme, verse 16 says the alternative to eternal life is not eternal punishment but extinction.  If we do not accept the gift of life we perish (cease to exist), we don’t fry for ever and a day.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Read slowly through this passage, preferably aloud.  This is a passage to be listened to.  Try with Nicodemus to grasp what Jesus is saying to you.
• Focus on verse 8, phrase by phrase.  Follow the analogy with the wind.  We feel it, we know its reality, even if we have no idea what has caused it to suddenly “get up”.  So it is with the Spirit, says Jesus.  What do you make of that?
• How might we apply this teaching to Abram’s experience as recorded in our first lesson?
• Now focus on verses 16 and 17.  Notice that they are a couplet, not two separate ideas.  How would you summarise Jesus’ teaching in these verses?
• What insights have you drawn from this passage to help you towards spiritual growth?