Anzac Day and ‘The Old Lie’

I have, for a while now, been contemplating the possibility of writing a few posts about war and, in particular, the way in which we Australians approach our military history.

ANZAC Day, and all that goes along with it, has become (for all intents and purposes) like something of a ‘State Religion’ for Australia. There is the tradition, the ceremony, the sacred space, and the requisite mythology that must accompany such things.

As such, I am acutely aware that whatever I say on this topic, unless it simply affirms the status quo, will no doubt upset some people. To express a point of view that does not conform to the official script has the potential to be viewed as disrespectful at best, sacrilegious at worst. This is why I have chosen to wait until after ANZAC Day this year to write. In the midst of the extraordinary emotion of it all, I see little possibility of reasonable discussion and debate. My hope is that now, after the intensity of the day itself has passed, we are in a better position for such discussion. I guess we will soon see.

In this post, then, I want to discuss what I see as one of the core untruths of the whole ANZAC tradition. Quite simply, I want to challenge the idea that the tragic death of so many young men (and women) has any meaning at all.

Please let me explain.

For many, the idea of fighting—and dying—for one’s nation is a good and noble thing. From at least the time of the Roman poet Horace onwards (and no doubt before), it has been expressed quite clearly that such a notion is to be admired. As Horace expressed it: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori (“How sweet and right it is to die for one’s country!”).

It is my firm belief, however, that such deaths as we commemorate on ANZAC Day were both unnecessary and obscene. Young lives wasted in the service of reckless fools who treated them with scornful contempt as expendable pawns is not ‘sweet’ or ‘right’ or ‘noble’. It’s a tragedy of epic proportions!

Such patriotic, nationalistic propaganda is to be challenged and opposed, not applauded.

Of course, there will be those who will suggest, in light of what I have just said, that I am being disrespectful to the memory of those who fought and died—that I am an ungrateful wretch who does not appreciate the ‘freedoms’ for which our brave servicemen-and-women fought and died.

To those people, I would simply say four things:

1. I have no doubt that many of our servicemen-and-women—at least before they experienced the horrors of it all—absolutely believed that what they were doing was the right thing to do. Many went out of a sense of duty and a belief in the nobility of it all. This does not, however, make it so. It is more a testament to the power of patriotic rhetoric, and the effectiveness of official propaganda machines. The numerous testimonies from many who fought, however, show that such propaganda was often shown up quickly for what it truly was when the horrific reality of war was made known. Such testimonies speak of the futility of it all, and sometimes detail the sense of betrayal felt when such realities were made known.
2. I am also convinced that there were many acts of tremendous courage and bravery in the midst of battle. Again, however, this does not make it ‘right’. Human beings are amazing creatures, and are capable of truly incredible things under certain circumstances. That soldiers would perform acts of exceptional bravery in the midst of raging battle comes as no surprise. That they were put into such situations is cause for regret.
3. I passionately believe in caring for returned soldiers who have been scarred physically and emotionally by their experiences. I am not one of those people who would spit on or despise returned servicemen-and-women. I believe it is our responsibility as a nation to properly care for those who have fought ‘on our behalf’, even if I don’t endorse (or even passionately oppose) the fighting itself. Multitudes of returned soldiers experience significant physical and psychological wounds that require long-term/permanent care. The reality of Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is alarming, and we need to do so much more in regards to the wellbeing of those who are experiencing such things.
4. There is very little or no case at all for suggesting that any of the wars that Australians have fought in have secured our ‘freedoms’. Nearly every one of them have had nothing at all to do with Australia itself. WWII might be argued as a possible exception here, but it can only be argued as such if we were to believe that our ‘enemies’ in that war popped up out of nowhere. War does not begin in a vacuum. There is always a context, and the years (or even decades) before war officially breaks out are extremely important to keep in mind. Once war begins, it is easy to argue that we are simply ‘responding’, but it is rarely, if ever, truly the case.

But there is a more subtle untruth that creeps in too.

Many people I speak to, who do see through the patriotic nonsense of dying for one’s country as ‘sweet’ or ‘right’, nevertheless still fall for the lie that I call the ‘myth of retrospective meaning’.

This argument acknowledges the bogus nature of what Wilfred Owen called ‘the old lie’, but nevertheless falls victim to the belief that, even if we accept the futility of the fighting itself, and even if we call out the incompetence and wilful neglect (and perhaps outright evil) of the leaders who sent so many to fight and to die, we can still invest their deaths with meaning if only we live our lives in such a way that their ‘sacrifice’ wasn’t wasted.

This is a popular, and powerful, lie.

There is nothing that we as a nation, or I (or you) personally, can do to make such deaths ‘worthwhile’. Trying to retrospectively invest the meaningless with meaning is as futile a pursuit as the wars themselves.

As far as I can see, this is just another (perhaps more subtle) attempt to keep the myth of noble war alive. The problem is, it’s just not true.

What’s worse, it seems to lead only to the justification of sending yet more into ongoing battles. Nothing changes. No lessons are learnt. More lives are needlessly lost.

I have thus come to the conclusion that such an argument is nothing more than an insidious attempt to overcome the cognitive dissonance that inevitably arises when we seek to confront the Old Lie in the context of the State Religion of ANZAC tradition.

The truth, to my mind, is that the only thing we can do to truly honour the memory of those who fought and died is to embrace the horror of war in all its terrifying reality and let it break our hearts to the point that we can no longer tolerate the sending of soldiers to fight and die in meaningless battles ‘in our name’.

We must acknowledge the utter meaninglessness of it all so that, once our collective conscience is pricked by the magnitude of such wasted life and potential, we might collectively agree: “never again”.

Though the facade of untruth is certainly more comfortable, I believe such reflection is necessary.

Lest we forget.

 

Dulce Et Decorum Est
(by William Owen, 1917).

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Guest Post: Julia Gillard, the Millennium Development Goals, and the Aid Budget

by Max
Collison.

When a federal budget is being
prepared it’s a fair guess that different interest groups are going
to be advocating for more money. It’s also a fair guess that every
advocate is going to be wishing they knew someone who had real
influence in the budget process.

“If only I could have the ear of
Treasurer Wayne Swan for ten minutes, I’m sure he would understand
why <insert cause> needs more budget
allocation.”

Even
better, what if the Prime Minister really ‘got it’ in regards to
the issue being raised!!

And this is what I don’t
understand—and why I’m writing. I’m writing, because Ms Gillard
said she would advocate for the very poorest of the world (which
happens to be the cause I’m focused on here). She may be doing it.
But if I wait for budget night and it turns out she forgot to
advocate…then a lot of people won’t go to school, unnecessarily,
and a lot of people will die, unnecessarily.

After the last budget was handed
down, where the Gillard government kept Australia’s giving to
Foreign Aid at 0.35% of our Gross National Income (instead of
moving towards the promised 0.5% of Australia’s GNI to Official
Development Assistance by 2015-2016—not mentioning the 0.7% agreed
upon by UN members way back in 1970!), Ms Gillard got a new job at
the U.N.

Since June
2012, our Prime Minister has been the co-chair of the UN’s “Millennium Development Goal (MDG) Advocacy
Group”.

To
show what Ms Gillard has committed herself to advocate for, let me
quote from the UN website:

Under the
Chairmanship of H.E. Prime Minister Julia Gillard of Australia, and
H. E. Mr. Paul Kagame, President of the Republic of Rwanda, the
Advocates individually, collectively and in small groups engage
with Members States, civil society, academia,
parliaments, and
the private sector to develop new and ground-breaking ideas and
ways to accelerate MDG implementation. (Emphasis
mine.)

So,
this is the PM’s first budget since taking on the job. And she
seems keen. In her speech to the UN General
Assembly in September 2012, she chose to touch on the MDGs,
saying:

Where the world has fallen
short of ambitious goals, our response must be action, not
disillusion. This is what Australia will do. We will
act.

And
then she went on to quote some examples of what Australia has done
in the past.

But
what I’m looking for is what Australia will do.
How will our PM engage with her parliament to accelerate MDG
implementation, if not in the budget? We can’t do more—we
can’t ‘accelerate’—without more money. And we’ve been promising
more money since the 1970 UN General Assembly.

Ms Gillard can advocate in one of
two ways. She can be like an English General at Gallipoli,
encouraging the others to go ahead (while he stays back).
Or she can be like the current British PM, and
lead from the front.

In this past March’s budget, the
UK—under a Conservative government—kept its promise to raise its
Aid budget to 0.7% of GNI.

I think our PM would say that our
economy is stronger than the UK’s.

I think our PM would recognise that
the Australian Labor Party has its origins in opposing the
‘excesses, injustices and inequalities’ of our current economic
system, whereas the Conservative Party in the UK does
not.

So, I’m asking
our PM: “Show me the money!”

Show us all how being co-chair of
the UN’s MDG Advocacy Group means something.

—

Max Collison is a GP
currently practicing in Sydney after a former life seeing how
good aid works in Tanzania and Kenya. He is a co-convener
of the Hills Justice Project.

“Same Love” (or, “Christians, Marriage, and the Uncomfortable Tangling of Church and State”)

Social media has been ablaze of late with sometimes calm, often manic arguments for and against same-sex marriage. The usually (more-or-less) gentle stream of such ‘discussions’ (I use the term loosely) has risen to a fast-flowing torrent in light of the U.S. Supreme Court hearing challenges against the Federal Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), and California’s Proposition 8. You may have noticed those cute (and rather clever) little pink on red ‘equals’ signs popping up all over the place in social media profile pictures.

Now, I am a Christian. Admission of this fact puts me in an interesting position because it seems, at least from the arguments I have witnessed, that my options are therefore quite limited.

I think it’s fair to say that Christians, in general, have not been very receptive to calls for same-sex marriage to be recognised. Though a few prominent Christian leaders (and apparently a significant percentage of us regular church attendees) have, to use a loaded phrase, come out in support of same-sex marriage, it remains the case that Christians have been among the most vocal opponents of any changes to marriage law (both here in Australia and in the U.S.). Sometimes this has been done gently, even gracefully; many times the opposition has been fierce and, dare I say it, quite ugly. In a few cases, there has been something approaching an obsession with ‘homosexuality’¹ as, apparently, the most significant problem in the world today which threatens the very fabric of society(!).

In light of this, probably the most comfortable position for me to take (at least if I were to only surround myself with so-called ‘conservative’ Christians) would be to oppose moves to change the existing legislation which defines marriage as a legally recognised union between one man and one woman.

Alternatively, I could situate myself inside the so-called ‘progressive’ Christian camp  and, like some of those prominent Christian leaders I introduced above (as well as the ‘regular’ church attendees I facetiously mentioned there too), simply agree with the calls to include same-sex partners in current definitions of marriage.

In fact, I don’t support either of these options.

For the record, I think that the Church, in general, has treated members of the LGBTQI community disgracefully, and I strongly believe that there is a desperate need both for deep repentance on this issue and for proactive work in displaying the love and grace that we should be embodying as followers of Jesus. Taking it a step further, I also, personally, maintain that there are ways of reading the Christian Bible that do not view homosexual relations as any more inherently ‘sinful’ than heterosexual ones. Such complex hermeneutical discussions are, however, for another time.

I would, in light of this, like to state quite clearly that I fervently desire that my same-sex attracted brothers and sisters receive the same treatment from our Government as those of us who happen to be opposite-sex attracted.²

However—and it is a big however—I don’t believe the best way of doing this is simply by redefining the current definition of marriage to include same-sex partners.

Don’t get me wrong: I think, at this point, the game is pretty much over, and it is somewhat inevitable that the legislation will be changed in this way (both in Australia and the U.S.). It’s only a matter of time, as far as I can see, and the Church would do well to recognise this point and to comprehend the fact that, once again, it will be viewed as being on the ‘wrong side of history’. You know it’s over when there is a ‘theme song’ as good as this:

But simply expanding the current marriage definition to include same-sex couples doesn’t overcome the fundamental problem with the existing setup.

What I would actually like to see, taking my cue from people like Tony Campolo, is a complete overhaul in the way all unions are legally recognised.

We are currently in this weird situation where the Church (and other recognised religious institutions) perform wedding ceremonies on behalf of the State, and it’s something that I just can’t get my head around. For me, the whole concept is hopelessly, utterly flawed.

The reason for this is that Australia is actually a secular nation. While there will be many who would protest against this declaration, I think it’s fairly clear that Australia is not, and really never has been a ‘Christian’ nation as such (whatever that actually means…). While the argument is a little harder to make in the context of the U.S. (even though the ‘Founding Fathers’ were, for the most part, quite clearly broadly deist in outlook rather than specifically ‘Christian’), I still think it’s clear that the essential separation of Church and State in the U.S. fits the definition of ‘secular’ that I will offer shortly.

To my mind, this is actually a (really) good thing.

Church and State don’t really mix well! All you have to do is read a little bit of history to discover this fact.

At the same time, however, both Australia and the U.S. are not (and never really have been) secularist nations. And nor should they be.

I don’t know if my distinction is a legitimate one, but as far as I can see it’s an extremely important distinction to make.

For me, ‘secular’ simply means that our government is not controlled by a religious group. We are tolerant of (or perhaps, more positively, we are able to embrace) a range of beliefs—or no belief at all—and we are able to freely elect representatives to stand on our behalf in the legislative bodies. Essentially, the definition of ‘secular’ is about defining negatives: the State is not overtly or specifically religious. ‘Secularist’, on the other hand, concerns the active opposition to or rejection of religious belief. This mindset pushes ‘religious’ worldviews to the periphery, and promotes the nonsensical idea that religion is purely a private matter that really shouldn’t make it into public (religion-free) spaces. This sort of idea is currently seen in much of the militant ‘new atheism’ whose advocates, somewhat ironically, can only be described as fundamentalist missionaries in their zeal.

Australia, I think, is thus a secular nation (and I would make the same argument for the U.S.) What this means, at least to me, is that matters of legal recognition should therefore be taken care of by representatives of the State.

As such, I would suggest that all ”marriage” in Australia should essentially be the job of the State, and the State alone. Couples wishing to have legal recognition for their partnership should be required to attend a meeting with a designated representative of the State to formally recognise the legally binding union, from which all rights and responsibilities of a legally recognised union are put in place (superannuation, taxation, etc.).

What this would mean is that the secular State could therefore recognise with these ‘civil unions’ whatever types of partnerships they wished to recognise (including same-sex unions), based on the support (or otherwise) of the voting public.

If, after obtaining this legal recognition of their relationship, a couple wished to have a religious element included (as would be their right in a nation that accommodates a range of belief systems), they could attend whatever church, mosque, synagogue, temple, garden, beach, or living room they liked to have religious blessings of whatever kind offered over their union. This means that hetero couples who wanted their union recognised “before God” could do just that. It also means that same-sex couples who wished to have their union blessed in the sight of whatever god they worshipped could do the same, by finding a religious organisation willing to do so. (My assumption here, of course, is that same-sex couples would only really want to be part of a religious organisation that welcomed them, so conservative religious groups could still refuse to add blessings to such unions, if they so desired, and deal with the subsequent issues pertaining to how relevant they are to such a society. I’m pretty sure this works for such religious groups and for those who could be bothered debating with them, so everyone’s happy!)

To my mind, this is exactly the sort of thing that the Church and other religious organisations should be doing. We have no place acting on behalf of the State in these matters, and the sooner we recognise this fact the better. So many of our problems in this debate stem from the fact that we have allowed this blurring of the lines between Church and State. Conservative Christians (and others) are now in the terribly uncomfortable position of trying to defend a theological position which is (sort of) bound up in current legislation, while at the same time trying to protect against the State ‘over-reaching’ into the affairs of the Church in regards to changing the legislation and, perhaps, forcing religious organisations to recognise (or even be required to perform ceremonies for) same-sex unions. Our task, however, is to offer the blessing of recognition ‘in the sight of God’ rather than legal recognition ‘in the sight of the Government’.

Of course, at this point some are going to accuse me of contradicting myself. Above, I made the point that any suggestion that religious belief is purely a private matter is simply ridiculous. Humans approach the whole of their lives from whatever basic philosophical outlook they have adopted, unless they are a hopeless mess of contradiction. This basic worldview informs the way we think and the things that we do. I am a Christian in my private devotion as much as in my public statements and actions, and vice versa. I cannot ever be a Christian only in the privacy of my own home and something else entirely when I interface with others; it just doesn’t work.

But I need to recognise the fact that, as an Australian citizen, my voice is one of many. I count it a blessing to be able to vote for my political representatives, but I must realise that my vote goes in with many others in the choosing of these representatives. I also am able to make time to meet with my elected representatives and speak to them about issues that concern me, but I must understand that, for the most part, they are going to act in the interests of the majority of their constituents and not just on my recommendations alone. I can, and will, use my vote towards those who represent best, in my mind, the values that I hold to, but I also recognise that none of the political parties represent the fullness of my belief system.

So, I use my vote, but I must also try to live out my faith in a way that causes others to recognise the God I follow. Basically, the idea is that non-Christians should look at the way we Christians live and say, “I’ll have what s/he’s having!” I’m not arguing for faith to be privatised, but rather that we should recognise that we can’t legislate Christianity. We must embody it. In our secular nation, we are free to do just this.

In regards to marriage, I guess this should mean that, once we have our relationships blessed ‘in the sight of God’, those relationships should be so packed full of love and care and faithfulness and respect and mutual submission, and so free from all forms of domination of the other and control and lack of respect, that others should look at these relationships and take notice. This is our witness. Trying to rely on legislation to define what true ‘marriage’ looks like is a hopeless waste of time and, ultimately, it completely devalues the theological concept behind it.

Personally, I can’t see any justification for defending ‘marriage’ as it currently stands. We should voluntarily renounce in full any part that we have in the current process, and ask simply for the freedom to ‘value add’ to any State-recognised civil union.

At the very least, it would allow for our (secular) Government to quite easily legislate for full equality for same-sex couples under the law (which has overwhelming support in the voting community), and this is long overdue.

Whether the LGBTQI community can find that same equality in the Church is for another time.

____________________

(1) Personally, I don’t believe that the simple categories of ‘homosexual’ and ‘heterosexual’ do justice to the reality of the spectrum of human sexual identity, but I recognise the currency that these words have at this point in time.

(2) It is necessary to note here that, thanks to the Rudd Labor Government, since November 2008 nearly all inequality for same-sex couples has been removed from Australian law. The same-sex law reform package means that same-sex couples in this country have the same essential legal recognition as opposite-sex de facto couples, in regards to taxation, superannuation, social security and family assistance, immigration and citizenship, child support and family benefits, and a range of other important areas. This was a very important step forward, and it should not be overlooked in these discussions.

Understanding Easter (or “A Short Easter Essay”)

Today is Good Friday.

I want to use this opportunity, if I may, to set out (more or less) clearly some things I’ve been thinking about recently in regards to the death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth – things that may seem a little different to what is often called the “traditional” view, but things that I think are helpful in understanding what this event actually means.

By the way, this is going to be quite a long post, so you may want to get comfortable if you’re going to read it all the way through…

Anyway, the so-called “traditional” view, as expounded in many churches of a Reformed heritage, is that Jesus died on the cross so that our sins could be forgiven – the perfect “Lamb of God” standing in the place of the guilty, the righteous in place of the unrighteous, in order that the wrath of God in regards to sin could be fully satisfied. The wages of sin is death, after all, and thus God could not leave sin unpunished (and still be a righteous God). In God’s mercy, however, Jesus was offered in our place, as the perfect “sacrifice of atonement” that allows us, if we are to place our trust in Jesus, to stand before the great Judge and be declared “not guilty!” Jesus’ righteousness has somehow been imputed to us in this great exchange, and we are set free!

Hallelujah!!!

The first thing I’d like to say is that I think there is probably a legitimate basis for this in the Christian Scriptures. I have had debates about this with a number of biblical scholars and theologians, but I think it’s fair to say that the apostle Paul (at least) seems to offer this idea, in part, as one of the many different ways he explains what happened in the event of the cross.

But this is just the point.

This sort of imagery is offered as part of a range of ideas that made sense to the people to whom Paul was writing. The sacrificial imagery was perfectly acceptable to first century Jews and Gentiles alike, and didn’t really present much of a conceptual problem. The idea that God’s wrath must be poured out on sin made a lot of sense in a context where the pagan gods were always angry at something, and needed to be placated. Thus, Paul works within that framework and suggests that, unlike the pagan gods who were capricious and vindictive, the [Judeo-]Christian God was always and only angry at sin. Unlike the pagan gods who forced the worshipper to take the initiative, the Christian God took the initiative in presenting Jesus as the perfect sacrifice of atonement. Unlike the pagan gods who needed to be placated by many and various measures, the Christian God was only satisfied with the sacrifice of Jesus who was, after all, both fully God and fully human. (I’ve basically plagiarised most of this summary from Leon Morris’ The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross, and would recommend checking it out if you’re interested in these things.)

So, in summary, Paul presents the idea (among others) that God offers God to God, in a sense, so that God’s righteousness remains intact while at the same time God remains ultimately merciful.

Paul was brilliant! He was an absolute genius! He did theology in his own context, interacting with the ideas that were current and that made sense to the people he was talking to. Three cheers for Paul!

Our task is to do the same.

Our problem, however, is that the whole idea of sacrifice doesn’t really make sense any more, and thus we need to be far more creative in the way we present the meaning of the cross to people today (not to mention the fact that the view described above tends to lead towards a very individualistic understanding of the Gospel as “Jesus dying so my sins could be forgiven”).

Fortunately for us, there are a whole bunch of other ideas in the Scriptures that we can work with. There are a range of ideas that give us a bit of elbow room to move and work out how to best explain the game-changing work of the cross and what it might mean for us today.

I want to start with the Gospel of John, chapter 2, verses 13-20.

Jesus goes up to Jerusalem around Passover time, walks into the Temple courts, and begins to tear.it.up! He drives out the animals, overturns the tables, and basically gets pretty cranky at the whole scene.

Some people have suggested that maybe Jesus was just having a bad day when he did this, or perhaps just couldn’t control his temper as well as one would expect of the Son of God (tsk tsk!).

But there’s more going on here.

It’s interesting to note what the Jewish authorities say to Jesus: “What sign can you show us to prove your authority to do all this?” This was all about authority. This was all about who was in control, and who could change the system.

The system was corrupt. The office of the High Priest was able to be bought from the Romans (who were in control), and the Temple authorities were becoming quite wealthy due to their decisions to play the Roman game and work within that broader system.

But Jesus steps in and overturns the heart of the system – the profiteering from the sacrificial system that was the means by which covenant relationship was maintained to that point.

It’s even more interesting to note that in the Synoptic Gospels (Mark, Matthew and Luke) where this incident occurs, Jesus actually quotes from Isaiah 56:1-8.

This passage from Isaiah is extremely important!

Basically, it suggests that those who had formerly been specifically excluded from taking part in the Temple cultic system in the Law (foreigners and eunuchs) were now being called to fully join the people of God. As long as they “bound themselves to Yahweh” they could no longer be excluded, for “my house will be called a house of prayer for all nations” (Isaiah 56:7).

The point of it all was that Israel was meant to be the shining light to the nations of the world, drawing them in to come and worship the one, true, Creator God.

But it hadn’t turned out this way.

Israel’s system had become hopelessly exclusive – working on principles of keeping people out rather than drawing them in.

And this is what Jesus overturned.

He overturned the Temple system that set up dividing walls between where Jewish men could go, where Jewish women could go, and where Gentiles could go – each being kept respectively further and further away from the Temple itself (remembering that the Temple was meant to symbolise the very presence of God). It may be useful here to also reflect on where the money-lenders’ tables and the animals for sale were probably located – in the court of the Gentiles, taking up more space and further excluding them from getting near the Temple.

But Jesus couldn’t leave it this way.

So he overturned the tables, symbolically overturning the whole system, demonstrating in the most effective way he could that he was challenging the very authority of the Temple and the whole system set up around it.

And the Jewish authorities asked him: “Show us a sign to prove that you have the authority to do this.”

And Jesus offers them this cryptic response: “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days” (John 2:19).

At this the Jewish leaders scoff. “It’s taken 46 years to build this thing. What, are you going to have some sort of Amish barn-raising to try to build the thing again or something?”

But the author of the Fourth Gospel adds in a very important note at this point: “But the temple he had spoken of was his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples recalled what he had said. Then they believed the scripture and the words that Jesus had spoken” (John 2:21-22).

Jesus was suggesting that he was to become the “new Temple.” The Temple was the centre of the Jewish faith, with its sacrifical system around it, but Jesus was suggesting that he himself was to become to the new centre of Israel’s faith. Israel was now to be organised around Messiah, rather than Temple. A new day had arrived.

Jesus was pretty smart.

He knew that the Temple system was headed for destruction. He knew that the way Israel was organised would only lead to death. This exclusive system had come to be based on nationalistic zeal, and, though the Temple authorities were alright with the fact that they were profiting off their relationship with the Romans, the Jewish people would ultimately come into direct conflict with their Roman overlords in all-out war. The Jewish people, with the stories of Gideon and Judas Maccabeus to guide them, would one day pick up the swords that they kept under their beds in anticipation of the coming of the military Messiah who would lead them to victory, and would run headlong into battle with the mighty Empire.

And this is just what happened in 66-70AD. It didn’t work out very well.

But Jesus knew this. He knew that if nothing changed, death would follow. He knew that the nation of Israel would die the death of Roman criminals if they kept on their course.

And so he offered himself.

He offered himself in their place. He offered himself as the Temple to be destroyed, rather than the physical Temple to be destroyed in 70AD. He suggested that, if Israel would re-organise around him, then they wouldn’t die the death of Roman criminals.

He would instead.

And here’s the beauty of it: If they kept their course and ended up in all-out conflict with the Romans, their system would be thoroughly destroyed. The Temple has still not been rebuilt! But, if they organised around Messiah, then he would take on the destruction to himself. And rather than being destroyed forever, he would rise again three days later. In this, he not only demonstrated that he was truly the Jewish Messiah; he demonstrated that he was truly the Lord of all.

He went up against the most powerful Empire that the world had ever seen – with their god-like Caesar and all – and yet he overcame. Death could not hold him down. He rose again on the third day and demonstrated once and for all that he was truly Lord.

And what this all means is, I think, something very profound.

In re-organising Israel around himself, Jesus did away with the exclusive system that kept people separated from God.

Paul says it like this:

“Therefore, remember that formerly you who are Gentiles by birth and called “uncircumcised” by those who call themselves “the circumcision” (which is done in the body by human hands) — remember that at that time you were separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit” (Ephesians 2:11-22).

For Paul, the prophecy of Isaiah 56 has finally been fulfilled in Jesus.

For Paul, Israel is now not the people organised around the physical Temple and its system, but around Messiah. There is now no longer any separation between those who wish to centre their lives on God, because the only badge of membership is faith in the Messiah.

And this is great news!

We, those of us who are not Jewish by birth, are now able, though Jesus, to be part of the true Israel of God – the family of faith organised around Messiah (which includes, by the way, the concept of the forgiveness of sins, albeit within a broader understanding of the gospel).

But Jesus is not simply the Jewish Messiah; through his death and resurrection he has been demonstrated to be Lord of all!

What this means, if we go a little further into Ephesians, is that this family of faith, true Israel or “the Church,” is the demonstration of God’s manifold wisdom. God is holding up the Church as “Exhibit A” declaring that what he has done here – uniting together in family parties that formerly saw each other as arch-enemies – is the foretaste of what he will do with the whole of creation.

The unity of the Church is the very demonstration of God’s wisdom, as we live together in peace and unity as a living demonstration of what will come in full one day.

And therefore, this Easter, as we ponder the work of Jesus on the cross, I want to suggest that we think very carefully about what this means.

The unity of the Church is the demonstrations of God’s manifold wisdom.

We often make God look like a fool.

This Easter, I want to suggest that, for those of us who call ourselves “Christian,” we think about these things deeply.

Let’s pray this Easter that the Spirit of peace would work among us to help us live up to this great task.

Let’s put aside the useless squabbles and remind ourselves once more that we are united in Christ by the Spirit – that we are meant to be the inclusive family of God that lives out true reconciliation and peace.

We are meant to be the demonstration in the now of what will come in full in the not-yet.

Let’s take this responsibility seriously.

The Discipline of Simplicity

I’ve recently finished reading Richard J. Foster’s now-classic Celebration of Discipline. It’s a well-written, easy-to-read book which draws deeply on centuries of insight from the true masters of the spiritual disciplines, but I must admit to not being greatly excited about reading it at the outset. I read a good number of these sorts of books as part of my theological degree (and subsequently), and I wasn’t convinced there’d be much in it for me except for the reminder that I don’t engage in most of these disciplines nearly as well as I should. Perhaps that was reason enough to read the book in the first place, but these days I generally try to avoid placing myself in situations where I know feelings of guilt are the inevitable consequence…

For the most part, the book conformed to my expectations. There is, perhaps, a lesson in this of expectations overruling the possibility of truly engaging with a text, but that’s for another time. There was, however, one thing that did grab my attention.

This one point is ‘The Discipline of Simplicity’ (chapter 6 in the book, if anyone’s interested).

The discipline of simplicity is something that both engages and challenges me greatly. I deeply desire to remove unnecessary complexities from my life, but I also find it incredibly difficult to do. I wish very much to be satisfied with a simple life, uncluttered by enticing yet pointless add-ons, but I often fail miserably in this regard. I am attracted by minimalism and the subtlety of understatement, but I dare to say that this is not what might spring to mind should those who know me wish to describe my life and personality.

I have always struggled with these ideas, but I think it came home to me in the most profound way at the wedding of friends of mine. In their (beautiful) vows, they included a line that describes their life together quite well, and which stirs me at every remembrance of it. It went as follows:

I will lead with you a simple, just and peaceful life
as Christ has called us to live.

It is truly a profound vow, and I wish that more would include it in their own wedding ceremonies and, more importantly, live it out (including, especially, myself).

But there it is; a vow to lead a simple life. In the interests of trying to keep this post as simple as is possible for me (and I know I’ve probably already failed at that task), I will simply (there it is!) summarise 10 points that Foster offers in regards to what this discipline of simplicity might look like in practical terms.¹ The only thing I’d add before it is to note that the outward working of simplicity must arise out of an inward conviction, but you can read it all for yourself in Foster’s book if you so desire. Anyway, here they are. I kind of hope I’m not the only one who finds them so incredibly challenging:

1. Buy things for their usefulness rather than their status. This includes cars, houses, clothes (worn until they are ‘worn out’ rather than until they are unfashionable), etc.
2. Reject anything that is producing an addiction in you. This includes addictive, non-nutritional drinks, food, technology, media, and money.
3. Develop a habit of giving things away. ‘Nuff said!
4. Refuse to be propagandised by the custodians of modern gadgetry. (I’m writing this on a MacBook Pro Retina…)
5. Learn to enjoy things without owning them. This is bucking the trend of a society that considers ownership as the highest value, and values rather, for example, the sharing of public spaces (beaches, parks, libraries, etc.)
6. Develop a deeper appreciation of creation. “Marvel in the rich colors of everywhere!” (p. 92).
7. Look with a healthy skepticism at all “buy now, pay later” schemes. Incurring (any) debt should not be taken lightly.
8. Obey Jesus’ instructions about plain, honest speech. Basically, let your ‘yes’ be ‘yes’, and your ‘no’ be ‘no’. It also includes avoiding flattery and half-truths and all forms of obscure speech.
9. Reject anything that breeds the oppression of others. The product is not more important than the people involved in the chain of production.
10. Shun anything that distracts you from seeking first the kingdom of God.

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⁽¹⁾ The initial sentence in each of the points below is a direct quote from Foster’s book.

A Ministry of Reconciliation

I am convinced that Christians in Australia—if we are truly to call ourselves Christian—must engage deeply with issues of ‘reconciliation’ between Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander Peoples and other Australians. In fact, I have come to the point where I think this needs to be at the very core of the ‘good news’ that Christians in Australia should be embodying.

I am somewhat ashamed to admit that I have not always taken this seriously enough, but I’ve (eventually) come to this conclusion for two main reasons. Firstly, I am convinced that the heart of the Christian message is the multi-faceted concept of reconciliation, and that this is about much more than some individualistic notion of personal ‘salvation’. Reconciliation, in a truly Christian sense, entails right relationship with the divine, with one another, and with our environment (and each one of these elements must be present). Secondly, I am convinced that the Christian message must embrace a certain sense of contextuality and adaptability everywhere it finds expression.

In terms of illustrating this point, I would suggest that the 1st century C.E. context of the relationship between ‘Jews and Gentiles’ is a good place to start. Indeed, it is this issue that lies central to so much of the New Testament writing, and is certainly at the very core of the so-called Pauline material. I am hoping to offer a fuller treatment of the ‘Letter to the Ephesians’ at some point in the near future (particularly noting the prominent call to abandon any notion of nationalism in the light of the Jesus story), but I want to highlight just a few points here in a broader sense as (what I consider to be) a poignant illustration.

Though the clearest specific reference to the concept of a ‘ministry of reconciliation’ appears in the apostle Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians (5:17-20), I believe it is actually best illustrated in the letter to the Christians in (and most probably around) Ephesus. In this letter, the relationship between ‘Jews’ and ‘Gentiles’ is front and centre, and the author¹ spends quite a bit of time and effort outlining the ways in which there is now (through the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth) opportunity for peace between the (formerly and constantly) warring parties. Indeed, this peace is not only possible, it is the very demonstration of God’s purposes in the world! A few examples from the text might suffice to make the point.

For [Jesus] himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. (Ephesians 2:14-18)

In this passage, Paul seems to be suggesting that, due to (his understanding of) the work of God in Jesus, there is a new possibility available for human relationships. This new possibility is not contingent upon one party recognising that the other was ‘in the right’ all along, offering ‘peace’ by essentially denying the identity of one group and allowing it t be subsumed by the dominant party. It is, rather, setting the two parties on a level playing field and offering a whole new framework of understanding. Though it is not immediately evident from this one passage, it also does not mean losing the essential identity markers of either party. The New Testament abounds with examples of ‘Gentiles’ entering into this new possibility for human relationships without losing their essential identity (or, perhaps, taking on the identity of another). Indeed, much of the work of the apostle Paul was convincing those he spoke to that the really innovative work of God was that now Gentiles did not have to become ‘Jews’ first in order to be ‘Christians’! In the same way, there was nothing to stop ‘Jews’ bringing to this new situation an essential ‘Jewish flavour’ (i.e., social and cultural expressions of tradition). The point was, quite simply, that those things were no longer barriers. These ‘identity markers’ no longer distinguished ‘us’ from ‘them’, but were simply a matter of preference.

But Paul takes it a step further.

In addition to indicating that this new possibility was available, Paul seems to indicate that it is actually the prime demonstration of God’s work in the world and the hope for the future:

[God's] intent was that now, through the church, [his] manifold wisdom should be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly realms, according to his eternal purpose that he accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord. In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence.

God’s ‘manifold wisdom’, it seems, is (at least meant to be) on display in the Church. That is, the people who form the early Church are those who were formerly enemies but who have now been drawn together in this new possibility for human relationships. This reconciled people, then, is the very demonstration of God’s work in the world. There is no way, Paul seems to suggest, that this could ever have been accomplished by anything other than the work of God, and therefore this group of reconciled people is being held up on display—as ‘Exhibit A’, so to speak—as a small-but-significant demonstration of what God desires to do on a much grander scale in time. God holds up this example to the powers and structures and systems of the world, indicating that a new possibility has appeared that does not buy into the old structures of separation and fear and hate and division. A new day has dawned.

It is no wonder, then, that Paul offers the extraordinary prayer that he does in very close succession to this point.

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Amen indeed! Paul acknowledges that this new possibility is only available because of God’s empowering Spirit at work amongst us, and he prays that the people he is writing to would really, really get it.

In the same way, I pray that us Christians in Australia would really, really get a grasp of this idea too.

Now, I’m not saying by any means that the analogy is precise. The relationship between Jews and Gentiles in the first century was complex, and was (in a good many ways) quite different from the (equally complex) relationship between modern-day Indigenous Australians and other Australians. Having said that, the similarity in regards to ‘dividing walls of hostility’ is strikingly apparent, and it is this reality that offers us a connection here.

What I would like to think through, then, (getting back to what I noted at the beginning) are the ways in which this ‘ministry of reconciliation’ might be contextualised in Australia. If this ‘good news’ we preach (and attempt to embody) really is based around the idea of reconciliation, and if this is going to truly make sense in the modern Australian context, what might it look like?

What I think this looks like, as a starting point, is Christians in Australia engaging, firstly, in humble and deep repentance towards our Indigenous brothers and sisters and, secondly, actively embodying the new possibilities for reconciled human relationship in all we do and say.

The first point is, I think, simple. ‘Christianity’ has not necessarily been ‘good news’ for Indigenous Australians. In many ways, it was used as a tool of, and justification for, those who desired to dominate. It has also been responsible for the active destruction of much Indigenous culture, through the pursuit of a form of Christianity which could not separate the ‘good news’ from a certain (white, British) understanding of culture (and ‘civilisation’). I don’t wish to push this too far and to ignore, for example, the many missionaries who sought to actively preserve Indigenous languages and cultural traditions—many of whom dedicated their whole lives to service of Indigenous Australians. I also don’t wish to ignore the Christians who, though now seen as participating in cruel policy, were simply trying to make a terrible situation a little less destructive by implementing Government policy with at least some concern for the wellbeing of those affected. However I think that, overall, it’s pretty safe to say that Christianity has simply not lived up to its name in terms of being ‘good news’ for our Indigenous population.

As such, I think there needs to be genuine, deep repentance on behalf of Christians in Australia to our Indigenous brothers and sisters. I think this needs to be implemented in individual congregations, as well as at the denominational level, and it needs to be done in a ‘no strings attached’ kind of way. Unconditional repentance is the only way for it to be real.

The second point is a little bit tricky, because some could understand what I am saying here to mean that what I am really desiring is for all Indigenous Australians to ‘become Christian’ first, and then there will be ‘reconciliation’. Please let me be completely transparent on this point: I desire for every person in the world to understand and embrace the new way of being human that I think is demonstrated in the life, ministry and death of Jesus of Nazareth. I think that his humble example of selfless love—love demonstrated—is something that our world needs desperately.

But what I am talking about here is not contingent upon people becoming Christians first.

Us Christians are not, and can never be, responsible for decisions that people make, but we are responsible for our own action. We are called to embody the good news, and to operate out of the new framework (even if no one else does). We are called to treat all people with the inherent dignity and respect that they deserve, as people created in the image of God. We need to recognise the systems and structures that have actively denied dignity and have sought to disempower and, in our context, we need to stand in solidarity with those who are seeking to highlight (and restore) the dignity of the oldest continual cultures on earth.

How we actually do this is up for discussion, but I think it’s important to note, once again, that this is something that needs to be embodied, rather than something that is just spoken about.

Perhaps a good place to start is with education and understanding. On this note, the U.N. ‘Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples‘ is, I think, well worth a read. It’s also necessary to meditate deeply upon what is says, rather than just reading it at a surface level. This Declaration offers a decent framework for understanding which also has wide acceptance.

Also, I think churches (and denominations) need to take seriously things like ‘Reconciliation Action Plans’. Though these “RAPs’ are certainly (currently) more targeted to the corporate world, it’s really encouraging to see Reconciliation Australia so willing to work with faith communities to develop ways forward. (Please contact me through this site if you’d like some more information about this.)

I think Christians should also be at the very forefront of efforts to recognise (and remove discrimination for) Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander Peoples in the Australian Constitution. Unfortunately, it remains true that many people in our congregations either wouldn’t know about these efforts, or wouldn’t understand why this is so important. It is my belief that our churches should be a wellspring of activity in regards to this issue, and that we should be working actively to make sure that any Referendum on this issue has the support it needs to pass. Check out the ‘Recognise’ website for more information.

Finally, in terms of a good starting point, I think we also need to acknowledge that, in so many cases, we have never sought any kind of permission to operate on the land that we do. I realise that this can be quite a confrontational point for many Christians, but I think it’s a really sad reality that so many of our churches have never even acknowledged, let alone sought permission from, our First Peoples, and thus I think there is a certain sense of illegitimacy for us to continue to operate without rectifying this point. I know that many might see this as either unimportant, or even condescending to a certain point, but I think it’s vital for us to set this straight and (finally) to let light shine on this often unacknowledged sin. At the very least, the process involved here necessarily puts churches in contact with representatives of local Indigenous people groups (which is a great step forward in and of itself), but it might also even lead to the possibility of churches opening their doors for local Indigenous groups to use our church facilities. Small steps, perhaps, but I think they are very important!

In all of this, the aim is quite simply to embody the love in action that is so central to the Christian message. Where we have sinned, we need to repent and seek forgiveness. Where we have been inactive, we need to resolve that we will no longer be complacent. Most importantly, we as the Church need to embody the new possibilities that are on offer in Jesus in all that we do and say. We must always remember that the very heart of the ‘good news’ is reconciliation and, in the Australian context, this has some very specific and important meaning attached to it.

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1) Many people simply assume that the Letter to the Ephesians was written by the apostle Paul. It is not quite so simple to state this with any sense of certainty, however I am convinced that the content of this letter is in many ways very much ‘at home’ with those texts that are almost certainly ‘genuinely Pauline’. As such, I’m perfectly happy to use the name ‘Paul’ for the author of this text, whether or not it was actually penned by the apostle himself (which is pretty much impossible to prove one way or the other).

A Prayer for My Daughters on this International Women’s Day

I pray that my young daughters would not have to fight for their rights. I pray that they would not have to struggle to clear room for themselves to be able to flourish in life.

I pray that, by the time they are old enough to understand fully, the victories would already have been won. I pray that they could simply assume so many of the things that I as a man already do.

But where the battle still rages, I pray that they would fight.

I pray that they would never accept being told that they can’t do something simply because they are ‘girls’.

I pray that they would be gifted with the fierce determination they need to overcome restrictive structures and systems.

I pray that they would get angry where they see sexism or misogyny, and that they would channel that anger into action.

I pray that they won’t ever give up.

I give thanks for the amazing women in their lives: their extraordinary mother, their grandmothers and aunts. I pray that my daughters would take careful note of their example.

I give thanks that they live in a country where we have seen women as Premier and Governor, Prime Minister and Governor General. I give thanks that my daughters will never know a time when this would have seemed impossible.

I pray that they would remember those who have gone before them; those who are recognised by name and those who were no less important but whose names have been forgotten.

And I pray that they would stand in solidarity with women in places where the same opportunities (even to publicly take up the battle) are not available. I pray that they would never take their own ‘white lady’ privilege for granted and forget that they are deeply connected to women everywhere.

Finally, I pray that, in my role as father, I would be a help and not a hindrance. I pray that my daughters would grow to be strong, self-confident women in small part because of me, not despite me. I pray that they would be much more than just ‘my daughters’; that they would grow to be independent women (who nevertheless understand the value of interdependence). I pray that they would know who they are apart from me (or any man), but I pray also that they would never forget how much their dad loves them, and how proud of them he is (and always will be).

Amen.