Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
I’ve been reading this last week about small Christian communities, sometimes called house churches, usually led by a combination of lay and clergy sharing the work equitably, informed by bible study and practice, by love of God, faith, daily discipleship and by people actively living both in the world and in God’s kingdom.
In the book, there was a story about a bishop who was concerned for the work being carried out by these small communities, growing in number and commitment in his diocese. He had noticed their work alongside the poor in their own local neighbourhoods, the faithful members trying to make sure their neighbours had food to eat, shelter and support. Then there was their commitment to helping the unemployed find work, and from the bishop’s perspective, they were outrageously supporting employees striking at the local factory, who were seeking living wages so they wouldn’t have to work at two or three jobs, and who wanted safer work conditions without threat of injury, bullying and sacking.
The small Christian community members were working with families to end domestic, family and intimate partner violence, offering refuge, safety and security, support with police interactions and the courts; and scandalously, the faithful members were alongside local people struggling with discrimination, both indigenous and immigrant, whose voting rights were at risk and who needed support as they feared the power of those in government.
The bishop was nervous, perhaps even frightened at what was emerging: not only were these Christian people going beyond what was safe for the stability of the community, they were challenging the understanding of those around them about what being a Christian truly meant, redefining it for the 21st century. Over time, the bishop realised these Christians were already living in God’s kingdom as if they believed in its reality; they weren’t waiting for some magical miraculous moment where God would say ‘who’s in and who’s out’! Their faith had carried them and those around them, to a new way of living and being.
The bishop wondered if people were getting the wrong idea about Christianity and Jesus’ message of hope and freedom from oppression and care for those who needed it. The bishop was anxiously coming to the conclusion the message of good news had become too subversive, too real and frank, held too clearly and openly by the laity who refused to be regulated like clergy, who were too challenging for those who wanted to keep the status quo, those church goers and their friends in power and business who benefitted from the blurred lines and ambiguity of corruption and greed embedded in the system of politics, economics and religion, so it was no longer recognised or called out, because it was just the way of the world, accepted and lived.
The bishop lamented: ‘you cannot control this from above, it demands a real involvement in their day-to-day life, of which we bishops are not part… We are still working with our own illusion we can build these communities and reap the benefits of this new developing church without having to break the normal structures of church life to which we cling. And so perhaps we are preparing for a day of judgement and a reckoning that hasn’t been foreseen!’
In such circumstances and with such a story, it made me pause and think about ourselves, in our own communities and churches, and I was reminded of Jesus who quoted Isaiah’s prophecy to his disciples, when they asked about Jesus’ teaching in the Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:1-23). Jesus said:
‘For this people’s heart has grown dull, and their ears are hard of hearing and they have shut their eyes; so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and understand with their heart and turn – and I would heal them.’ (Matthew 13:15)
Jesus went on to commend his disciples: ‘But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear.’ (Matthew 13:16)
So I wonder what this means for us and for Christians actively living and working, praying and discerning God’s will in God’s kingdom. What seeds have been sown on stony ground, or choked and withered in the glare of the sun with poor soil and poor sowing? What seeds have we sown and which have grown abundantly, taken root and are flourishing, in our community and for which we can give thanks to God!?
Jesus tells us all not to get comfortable with our status quo, but to know always nothing can be taken for granted, as the Spirit is blowing where she will, whether we like it or not, or whether we want to be blown or not. Jesus’ telling of the parable of the sower gives us multiple ways to imagine ourselves in the story: we might see ourselves as the sower, or as the seeds, as the people responding differently depending on our circumstances and opportunities, and as we reflect on the ground on which the seeds are sown. God’s gift of free will to each of us along with faith, brings responsibilities, expectations of action and discernment, and when we turn away from God there are consequences in God’s kingdom, in the world and for each of us individually and for our communities.
We have choices, all of us, about choosing to engage or to stay back, to choose to walk with God on an unfamiliar path, or to stay on the roads we know well, to engage with people who are different and unknown, or to stay in our own echo chambers and know all the answers, firmly remaining undisturbed! The Church is challenged, and we are invited to live into the kingdom with steadfast faith and joy.
God chooses us always, in love, hope and to be disturbers of the world’s peace. So the question for us, is whether we will choose God as well, trusting God enough to sow the seeds in places and with people whom we do not yet know, and to have enough faith to leave it to God to bring forth the harvest.
The Lord be with you.
Reference: Fraser, I.M. 2003. Many Cells One Body: Stories from Small Christian Communities. WCC Publications, Geneva.