Jesus and Me

originally published on my 'Mal's Murmurings' blog in September 2005

Jesus transformed my life but, perhaps, in turn I changed his. His

story has been transmitted to us via faith communities and, to

some extent, each believer adapts this person to their own needs.

The power of symbols is simply amazing. One time, I entered into

a personal relationship with Jesus and, my God, was it hard. It’s

strange how he expected me to take on the comfortable lower

middle-class lifestyle of my peers in the faith. Some of them knew

no better, they’d grown up with him as had I but, they’d never seen

the need to rebel.

Rebellion, now there’s a pain, one may even have to start asking

and, even worse, answering questions! Me and Jesus got along fine

for quite some time, we shared all these intimate conversations but,

no … he wasn’t prepared to back me whatever I chose to do; the

pastor knew best on that score. God, how I loved Jesus social

conscience and his love of the company of outsiders to the faith but,

according to the pastor, it was only because he was divine that he

couldn’t be tainted. It seems that somehow we poor fallen

creatures couldn’t take that risk so, we had to set ourselves apart.

It wasn’t long before we parted company, at least the church and

me; I don’t think the Jesus symbol ever let me go! My journey took

me a long way round after that, via Eastern religions, Trotskyist

politics, and experimentation with various substances, asking

uneasy questions and collapsing along the way.

All this time I remained under the spell of this divine symbol Jesus;

in him I found a voice and image of inclusivity, his demands may be

hard but ultimately that became part of the attraction. If no

demands were made how could one possibly grow? This time, the

demands weren’t to do with opposition to my working class status

but, more to do with caring about the people it was necessary to

challenge.

On my return to the fold, even in a transitional state of charismatic

fervour, I was far less inclined to “preach at” non-believers; the

most important thing was that they should realize that I was there

for them. For some time, strangers would turn up at my doorstep

or, I would be granted an insight into someone’s need to be

befriended.

It took so long for the realization to grow that, the most important

thing was quite simply to be there. Although full of doubts and

questions, regarding the Christian faith, the symbols of the faith

have well and truly grasped me. I am acceptable, tetchy human

that I may be.

FAITH Matters

This posting was first published on my 'Mal's Murmurings' blog in January 2007

Faith Matters

FAITH is that set of values, and ultimate questions, by which we lead our lives. Questions and doubts are an integral component of faith, if we are not to become stuck in a rut of blind belief. I have been grasped by certain concepts and values of community and compassion, and much of the reported teachings of Jesus (acclaimed by many as the Christ), throughout my life, both those in which I have been unwittingly indoctrinated and, those which I have arrived at or returned to through a prolonged period of questioning.

It has always seemed a major mystery that some people seem to "need a faith", some "seek a faith" by which to measure their life’s course whilst others are quite simply "grasped" by an ultimate concern which they have neither sought nor been aware of a need for.

In my personal journey, I have at times embraced (or been embraced) by each of these modes yet, a deep rooted scepticism has proffered me a deep rooted intellectual and emotional resistance to making room for such a faith. That same stubborn resistance also occurs when anyone attempts to fob me off with multifarious scientific hypotheses disguising them as facts. I suppose I’m slightly averse to ‘fundamentalisms’ be they secular or religious.

Perhaps, with my low level reserves of physical and emotional stamina, I do not pro-actively fight for my beliefs as much as I should, but the mystery of LOVE (almost) always compels me to accept a transcendent reality.

I am "grasped" by the person and work of Jesus the Christ yet, am unable to accept much of the dogmatic doctrinal baggage with which he has been encumbered. Some emphasize his humanity, others his divinity, fully God and fully man proves a bit of a conundrum yet, in this myth of the Christ  many, including myself, have found the strength to challenge the social and economic injustices of our day.

In spite of my deeply rooted sceptical nature, it is far easier to accept the existence of God (all the flawed ontological/ teleological arguments for His/Her/Its existence notwithstanding) than it is to understand how it is possible that so much bigotry, intolerance and, upholding of the status quo can possibly be carried out in the name of Jesus Christ. It’s as if the ideological baggage of state blessed Christendom has blinded us to the truly radical nature of the Christ.

The Syro-Phoenician Woman

Having just read a most enlightening posting about The Samaritan Woman on KHANYA blog, I was in some way reminded of this Bible Study on our HelMals website.



Mark 7 vv.24-30 The Syro-Phoenician Woman

Before I returned to this passage, it was already obvious (to me) that the passage was about ‘inclusiveness’ …… a) A Gentile b) A Woman, neither of which were qualities to be valued within the Jewish orthodoxies of the time, dares to approach this itinerant Jewish preacher. I had not
foreseen / remembered the dynamite of this encounter!

Jesus responds to this woman’s plea, by offering a rather offhand Jewish comment about Gentiles being dogs and, implying His duty was to feed the children … the chosen ones. The woman dares a riposte … “even dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the children’s table”.

Jesus listens to the woman, sees her need, acknowledges the truth of her response. Her faith was to express her need. Jesus didn’t approach her as a lost soul; He listens to her need, already expressed by seeking Jesus out, the depth of her need / faith being re-affirmed by her riposte. This woman, an outsider from the church, expresses her faith in a very direct manner. She approaches Jesus out of concern for her child.

Sometimes we may have to question what we think the Lord is calling us to do. Jesus turns the other cheek …. He doesn’t turn around and say “you’ve challenged the word of the Lord” and give up on her as a lost cause, rather, He acknowledges her honest need and acts upon it. Her challenge, her act of faith results in the healing of her daughter.

Because we as Christians “know” what people need, we can so easily fail to listen, especially if what they have to say challenges our
preconceptions. Jesus didn’t see the challenge as an avoidance of
commitment; in her challenge he saw her faith.

A person’s race, religion, sexuality, social status, are unimportant; their needs are important! Perhaps one day the wrong kind of person will be the one who removes the beam from our own eye.

Malcolm Evison

Easter Day

By malcolme at 2008-03-22

And Was My Friday Good

AND WAS MY FRIDAY GOOD (Friday 21 March)

A dispassionately mundane retelling of the gospel account of Jesus crucifixion, monotonously narrated by Mary Magdalene, with music of a banality that makes one think that perhaps Lloyd-Webber is Verdi’s natural heir. This was ‘Good Friday Liturgy’ (BBC Radio 4), words by Carol Anne Duffy, in what the Radio Times described as having feminist perspective. If having a woman say that she saw the events, rather than a male recorder of the events voice stating what was happening makes it feminist, then ………..!

Having spent a few of the preceding hours listening to Palestrina ‘Stabat Mater’, Liszt ‘Via Crucis’, a plainsong ‘Stabat Mater’ and sections of the Verdi ‘Requiem’, the banality of this special radio production was all the more striking.

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The following is a random jotting which I failed to get around to completing or posting yesterday, presented in glorious Technicolor incompleteness.

MAUNDY THURSDAY ( Thursday 20 March)

On Maundy Thursday, a few random thoughts spring to mind concerning the Last Supper.

I’ve often felt it ironic that the last meal Jesus shared with his disciples, prior to his death by crucifixion, should have been the Passover Seder, a celebration of the Hebrews release from their Egyptian captivity; redemption and death seemed to have been rolled into one. (Pesach derives from the tenth plague when those households whose doorposts were daubed with the blood of the Passover lamb were ‘passed over’ by the avenging angel, a prelude to their release from the Egyptian captivity).

Some scholars however suggest that the meal may have been on the day, a few days before the Passover Seder, when the Passover lambs were slaughtered; this would of course have provided a more instant symbolism.

The symbolic potency of the last supper ( as Passover Seder) becomes truly significant when we realize that through the death of Jesus and the subsequent event known as ‘resurrection’, death itself was overcome, the ultimate liberation from oppression.

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A later posting for today (Friday), A Little Miracle, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Ride on, ride on ...

The demonstrations in Tibet, and neighbouring provinces, being met with brutal suppression strike a particular chord this Palm Sunday. Amongst the people dwelling in Palestine there was much unrest, which in its turn was met with brutal suppression by the Roman occupying power and its Herodian quislings.

Into this political ferment Jesus and his followers, a number of whom were Galileans (not the most respected region to hail from), arrived in Jerusalem. Amongst the crowds that welcomed him there were, most probably, those with an urgent desire for social change. Although many of the ideas he had preached were quite simply an extension of those already being disseminated by sections of the religious community, his teaching was expressed with an urgency that commanded attention. A new kingdom, one which turned the values of the ruling elite on their head, was imminent, choices had to be made! Not for Jesus the full regal panoply of the present rulers; in a way the entry into Jerusalem on a humble ass could be seen as cocking a snook at the prevailing powers.

The reasons for the welcome he received can be linked with a variety of expectations, both political and religious. But could this enthusiasm last, was this movement for change an unstoppable force? In a society riddled with informers and agent provocateurs, fear was soon to overtake these ‘supporters’, indeed before long many of his closest followers were in fear for their lives, even to the point of denying that they ever knew him. Jesus was soon to ask his heavenly father to take the cup of suffering away but, this moment of doubt notwithstanding, his conscience wouldn’t permit him to recant, the die was cast. This was his chosen path. To the authorities he was a nuisance, an agitator, a traitor and, as such, he must suffer the most humiliating and degrading death by crucifixion.

To be continued ….

WAITING

So much time is spent waiting, even when we’re too busy to recognize it, yet no-one seems to think it worthwhile to educate us in the use of this time. We send a message to someone and wait, in anticipation or even trepidation, for a reply. We have a job to do but, invariably, there is some preparation required before we are able to get down to the task in hand. Frequently however, these moments are spent hyping ourselves up in readiness rather than using it as a time for taking stock; we have to be busy. Perhaps we are afraid that we might not like what we see or feel if we take time out for ourselves.

A time of waiting must never be confused with idleness. Waiting is always active. Once in a while it could prove useful if we took the time to consider what we’re doing, what implication it has for others, is it really what I should be doing? Rather than dashing out to do God’s will, listening and waiting is required to grasp what that purpose may be. It is never necessary to do just for the sake of doing, what is more important is doing what should be done, what needs to be done.

As Christians we are called to be doers of the Word but, how can we be doers if we never take time to consider the implications of that word for ourselves and others. For me, Jesus is the Word made Flesh, yet he spent 90% of his life waiting to discover what his mission was. Even during his ministry, he had recourse to times of solitude, a time for reflection and restoration. These quiet times are as much of an activity as the practise/action that springs from them; during the time of the temptations, the lure of wealth and the accepted routes to power, he was called on to make a decision and, his decision was not to accept the frequently tried, and always found wanting, methods of leadership.

The times of reflection, of waiting, were essential for him to formulate the ideas upon which he would act and, the results he came up with are of far more enduring value than if he had unthinkingly accepted the normal pattern.

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What prompted these random reflections was a sense of frustration I was experiencing, waiting for one coat of paint to dry, before I could get on with the final coat. For all my familiar lack of energy, an impatience to get on with the task in hand made it impossible to settle down to any other ‘activity’.

The thought suddenly occurred that I could use this time to take stock, sparked by the realization that my health-imposed idleness was of a distinctly different character to this period of waiting.

For all my recent inactivity, I am instinctively a ‘doer’ and, this conflict causes so much dis-ease. Perhaps some of the vast tracts of idleness could be transformed into periods of active waiting, a time to discover just what and how much I may have to contribute, (without exerting too much pressure on my limited resources of physical stamina).