Sunday 15 June 2014

First words: An explosion of worship

This time last week I was in Alice Springs.  I began and ended my blog on that week away with these words:

I feel like I've been away forever.
Maybe I have.
Forever in time, place, heart.
Forever, to places where time is measured in thousands of years, or in generations, or in Dreamtime.
Where you can feel forever in the soil, the sunrise, the rocks, the sunset.


After nights sleeping under stars and cooking food on an open fire, I’m lying in bed in a motel in Alice, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of those sunrises, that rock, the open fire, sunsets that set fire to rocks, queues of aboriginal men outside a pub, others congregating in a supermarket carpark in a curious mingle with suits who have arrived in the latest Mini Cooper or Beemer, roos at sunset, dingos at dinner time. 

Occasionally the smell of the fire smoke in our clothes reminds us that this was not a dream.

I feel like I have been away Forever. Maybe Forever is a place (!?)

Maybe I am Dreaming, after all, in that aboriginal sense.

But I can still smell the smoke in my clothes ...
(the rest of that story is here)


There are many different ways to describe reality. When that reality is as complex as Creation or Trinity, we can get lost in detail or we can find wonder. We may even hear things with our hearts, or see things with different eyes if we are open to new perspectives. At Uluru we were invited into a deeper understanding of that sacred place.  But for some of us, that meant putting aside some of our expectations of time, our “right to climb the rock” and our understanding of how we might learn. We were invited to listen to ancient wisdom that uses different categories to ours – and still is true and real.

Genesis 1 is a bit like that. 

These words of beginning, of genesis, of creation.
Words written to speak of God in action; awesome, amazing, creative, detailed, intimate, care-ful.
Some say this God sits on a throne, but in the creation God is very present and close.

In the Worship Space in the desert a lone voice is heard, “And God Said …”
And the people whisper in response, “… and it was so.”
The voice continues more strongly, “And God said …”
And the people utter the words confidently, “And it was so”.
The voice shouts, “And God said …”
And the people shout in response, “And it was so.”
And God saw that it was Good.

Words heard over generations, passed on from parents to children.
And God created humankind
In his own image
In the image of God,
God Created them
Male and female
He created them.
(yes, male and female, in his image)

And God saw
All
that he had made.  And it was
VERY
Good.

And he rested.
(for a version of Genesis 1 as a responsive reading for a worship setting, click here)

Ancient words, written to remind God’s people that at the beginning of the story, there is God who creates and is intimately concerned with this creation.  It is a theological statement.

Science is concerned with giving nature its own meaning and purpose (or seeking to understand it) apart from God; Mythology wants to tell stories of gods apart from created beings.

Genesis 1 is altogether different. This story affirms that creator and creation are intimately linked in a covenant expressed in action – God’s act of creation by the Spirit.  As such it is neither science nor history nor myth. It is a theological statement, a bold explosion of worship of God - and of confidence in this one who is so intimately concerned with the created world. Creator and creation are delicately and uniquely linked. Against other ways of understanding the world, these words affirm that all that is described is fully and joyfully God’s creation. What’s more, this creation and this bond make salvation possible (or maybe even inevitable) – because God cannot walk away from God’s creation, even if created beings may turn away from God.

These words of Genesis 1, when disconnected from this setting of worship and theology, find themselves used for purposes for which they were never intended.  Their language and intention and purpose become confused. Our questions of, “Is this historical” or “is it true and verifiable”, or even “is it a mythical description” would never have been a question in the minds of the writers, or the jewish people who first held these sacred texts.  That is not to say that these questions are irrelevant.  But that is simply not the concern of these texts, which have as their primary focus, the relationship of the creator to the creation in a theological statement – which is still true and real.

God is intimately concerned with all of this world. This creator is not a manufacturer or carpenter who makes something and walks away.  Words are spoken, “And God said…” and responded to, “And it was so.” God puts God-self into creation through speaking.  This creator has a purpose for creation, for each part of this creation is stated as having a purpose.

And there is purpose in having this explosion of worship as the very first words of the scriptures.  It reminds us 
  • That our story starts with God.
  • That this God brings order from chaos, and creates with intention and intimacy of words.
  • That humanity is not only part of the creation, and not only the final part of the creation, but in the image of God.
  • That this "image" is not just a select few. It is all. Male and female.
  • That this not a statement of hubris, of pride and arrogance.  No – it is a whispered response of awe at the purpose and intention and work of God; and the sacredness of the other. Each other. Every other.
  • That All of creation is good.
  • That All of creation is blessed.
  • And that everything, and everyone, and even God, rests.
First words: An explosion of worship.

(From a sermon for Trinity Sunday, June 2014)

Tuesday 10 June 2014

Dreaming

I feel like I've been away forever.
Maybe I have.
Forever in time, place, heart.
Forever, to places where time is measured in thousands of years, or in generations, or in Dreamtime.
Where you can feel forever in the soil, the sunrise, the rocks, the sunset.


"We acknowledge the Anangu People as the traditional owners and custodians of the land ... "


A man saw Uluru as something to be conquered, his right to walk all over. The gate was closed by the aboriginal ranger for sunset and safety, but the man insisted on walking through the gate and wanting to climb; To climb that rock which The People ask him not to climb - but he sees as his right to climb. I'm not sure whether the ranger's response was immature ("I'll count to five and I want you off"), or whether the man's immaturity deserved it.


Sleeping in places where our food is cooked on an open fire, sheltered by a rock and a cliff that holds the memories of the fires of other campers, explorers, wanderers, and locals ... over hundreds of years; (where you dig a hole for a loo!); where we wake, unzip the tent and lie in our sleeping bags gazing over a riverbed and listen to the gentle zephyr in the reeds, a crow, and ... Forever (is there a word for hearing nothing else, ... and everything else?).


A mission station where my people tried for a hundred years ... tried, and now their trying is a reputation of goodness and mercy, and a village of people living in safety and possibility, and a Museum to 'Trying'.


Two nights later we are in sheets, in a bed, (showered!), in a motel, behind electric gates in a town called Alice.

Lying there, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of those sunrises, that rock, the open fire, sunsets that set fire to rocks, queues of aboriginal men outside a pub, others congregating in a supermarket carpark in a curious mingle with suits who have arrived in the latest Mini Cooper or Beemer, roos at sunset, dingos at dinner time. 

Occasionally the smell of the fire smoke in our clothes reminds us that this was not a dream.


The sun rises, but is hidden by curtains and electronic gates.
So we pack the memories and the camera and the smoke-soaked clothes.

"... We remember their ancestors with respect & commit ourselves to work for reconciliation & justice for indigenous people."

And go to listen to Anne - an (Ab-)Original grandmother who holds the stories of her people, explains rights and rites, "our lore" and "British law", clashes and customs, edible berries and skin systems and a human world and a spiritual world and symbols and women's world and men's stuff and nature and ... 'Dreaming' as a world view, and a way of living, now.

I feel like I have been away Forever. Maybe Forever is a place (!?)
A Forever bookended by a man with rights, and a woman with rites.

Maybe I am Dreaming, after all. 

But I can still smell the smoke in my clothes ...