Thanksgiving

Our friend Ross died on 4 September 2015. It fits the character of the man that he ended his days with us well past best medical estimates. But if ever the comment was made to him that it was his determination that had him still enjoying the sound of the birds each morning, he'd say, not me, but God. (He'd own up to being bit stubborn, or cantankerous as he'd put it.)

There was not to be a funeral. A memorial service made him uneasy too. Focussed on him, that wasn't the point. It's about God. What about us getting together one Sunday, in his memory, honouring God and the wonders of creation? Yes, that would be okay, but keep the focus where it belongs.

I appreciate a reminder like this, and a clear and forthright one at that, like all of Ross' input. It was not something we could ignore, and to respect is our surest way of respecting the person it comes from. Years back there was a minister who'd retired to Clyde in Central Otago who spoke to me of his funeral instructions. He had an envelope with instructions outlined: hymns and readings, and the note “there will be no address”.

No eulogy. No speaking about the person. Just praise and thanks to our God.

I appreciate the reminder because I think we can get out of balance. As a really positive response to the needs of people in grief, funerals have become more personalised. We speak about what has been special for us. We share memories that draw all who are present into the experiences that make up a human life, this one in particular, but often connecting with our own experiences. We gain insight into our shared life as it has been, which in large part has made us who we are.

But it's important that we remember for the purpose of giving thanks. That's the attitude of faith, however it is expressed in detail. What makes us spiritual beings is that we don't focus only on the facts before us. We think about them, we evaluate them. We think about what makes life good, gives strength, makes us positively human. We catch again the vision to be nurtured in the generations.

We look beyond the facts to the source. The wonders of nature, of creation, the joys of family, in thinking of such things what strikes is their sheer givenness and how extraordinary these gifts are. Acknowledge this and we're acknowledging what's totally beyond our own powers and ability to produce.

Praise and thanksgiving to the Creator of life is first and foremost this: it is an act of wonder and gratitude. It is not a scientific statement about the nature of reality – that's another arena of human activity. To speak of the Creator is not locking us into believing there's a man in the sky or any particular thing that goes by the name God. Who or what God is is beyond our kind of knowledge, so I'd say let's not go there. But let's keep going in the direction that looks well beyond ourselves when it comes to celebrating life on this planet earth, and how amazing it is that it actually is.

Rangimarie Peace Shalom, Robyn

Attitudes to the Bible

August/September newsletter

Recently at church we were talking about attitudes to the Bible in today's culture. I'd made the comment that, in the view of the pervasive culture around us, “either you are rational and reject the Bible or you are irrational”. The church's track record of expecting blind, naïve acceptance of the Bible is part of the reason for the level of rejection in the western part of our NZ culture. Over generations past the church has promulgated what is called a grand narrative – a story to explain everything and not open to question. It has done harm – exclusion and violence – which has been motivation enough for recent generations to turn away from it altogether.

I put the case for a third alternative, which in fact is what we all seem to be working with, even if we're not aware of it. We're not naïve about the Bible in the sense of never questioning it, never challenging all too human events and behaviour which these stories of old contain. We don't go with face value, but weigh it up relation to other knowledge and with the character of Jesus. The Jesus we meet in the Bible shows us what I call Christ-shaped living, and in turn we read the stories of the Bible through that lens of Christ. And through that lens we see treasure in the midst of very human – and messy – stories.

A comment was made: the church is not doing very well at presenting this third option – remaining rational and reading the Bible to find insight into God's truth for living.

My thought: the “church” that is going to do this is us, the people who are the church.

It's up to us to introduce this other option, of reading the Bible, brain well engaged, and uncovering real food for living well. One reason for this is there's no theory for how this is done, no instructions to publish and promote. Because it's in the practice that it happens. The Bible's narratives speak to us: it's in the listening that the discoveries happen. As we're listening our brains are ticking over with their questions, what we know already adds its bit, and our hearts are asking too – what we long for, hope for, struggle with. And to our surprise maybe the stories make a connection, and we have a response, an insight, a new direction.

We realise that the Bible contains narratives and not pronouncements, stories carrying truth not dogma pinning it down. When we read it on those terms, something happens in our souls. Like an experience that moves us, a conversation that energises us, something in us is touched and changed.

The hard part is to speak about this to others. It's much easier to fall back on standard religious words – or say nothing. How do we express the real experience that the original basis for religious language? How do we tell another person what it is that the word “God” points to for us?

We can only do it by trying. Starting with trying to put it into words for ourselves.

Ask yourself: what keeps bringing me back to Bible stories? What would I be missing if I didn't, if I didn't ever gather with others who share experiences and chewed them over alongside Bible texts?

What will be missing if we don't find ways to share these stories with children?

Let's keep talking about this together. Sundays at church are definitely a time and place for doing that, being church together.

Church as I know it hasn't thrown out the baby with the bath-water. The bath-water was “the Church” of years past, the institution with its doctrines and its laws that the Scribes and Pharisees would have been impressed with. In that bath-water the Bible got submerged with the real story of freedom in Christ out of reach. The baby is that story of freedom. We access it whenever we read the Bible with open minds and eyes on Christ.

Rangimarie Peace Shalom, Robyn