"The
essence of Christianity is the appeal to
the life of Christ as a revelation of the
nature of God and of God’s agency in
the world. The record is fragmentary, inconsistent,
and uncertain. . . But there can be no doubt
as to what elements in the record have evoked
a response from all that is best in human
nature. The Mother, the Child, and the bare
manger: the lowly man, homeless and self-forgetful,
with his message of peace, love, and sympathy:
the suffering, the agony, the tender words
as life ebbed, the final despair: and the
whole with the authority of supreme victory.” (Alfred
North Whitehead)
born
one of us
Mike
Riddell
It is easy to despise the core of our faith.
What does this primitive Christmas tale – of
shepherds, magi, a young mother, a manger,
a birth, a hovering star, choirs of angels – what
has this to do with a complex world of internet
porn, prime mortgage collapse and early-onset
Alzheimers? A charming tale for children, perhaps;
a marketing ploy for retailers; a magical episode
of escapism from the pain of existence.
We are quite grown up – cosmopolitan
people of the world, sophisticated and savvy
citizens of the Third Millennium, stitching
together meaning from the frayed rags which
critical minds have left us. Much as we might
admire the naïve faith of earlier generations,
it seems there is no road back to a simplistic
security based on primitive notions of how
the world operates. Many people will look to
a seasonal Lotto win as a more likely source
of salvation than to the story of Bethlehem.
As we all must learn to our bitter disillusionment,
there is no road back in life. We move forward,
carrying with us the bruises, disappointments
and disfigurements of experience; never quite
able to recapture our lost innocence. A commitment
to honesty in practical as well as spiritual
life leads us into territory where there are
no familiar landmarks. There may be moments
of clarity, but they come amid a more persistent
fog of uncertainty and fragility.
And yet... the recounting of the Christmas
story contains within it a devastating simplicity,
not easily dismissed. Given a small opening,
it is capable of puncturing our cynicism and
world-weariness. In essence it says this: God
has become one of us. The surprising thing
is that so few words are able to express all
that is necessary to the navigation of our
human existence. It is to the eternal benefit
of our faith that what lies at the heart of
it is not so much a doctrine as a story. And
that it is one of wonder and illumination.
The retelling of this story is still capable
of creating awe. It tells us these things about
our lives: we are not alone; even in darkness
there comes a light; the lowly is precious;
the strange is not to be feared; the divine
is fragile; humanity is blessed; life is a
gift; and that the life of God and our lives
are inextricably bound. These basic insights
are enough to lead us through the best and
worst of times.
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Through listening
attentively we may know certain truths which
are still of relevance to this era in which
we find our way. That how we treat others is
of significance; that God moves among the poor
and the immigrant; that the earth and all life
in it is gifted to us to care for; that no
person is to be despised; that darkness cannot
extinguish light; that every moment of every
life is charged with potential; that nothing
is lost; that God is as close as your own flesh;
that peace is not the absence of conflict;
that none of us is ever abandoned.
Many around the world have celebrated the
election of Barack Obama. His acceptance speech
following the result was one which lit up the
face of the crowd and brought the shining light
of hope to them. It seemed to many who listened
that he represented the end of a dark night.
Whatever will become of him is yet to be revealed,
but we do know that such a resurrection of
belief in the future is a faint analogy to
that story we hold so dear – the hope
which springs from an unlikely quarter and
is able to change the way that people act.
The ground zero of our faith has always been
Bethlehem. It has been sullied by commercialism
and crassness. But we followers of Christ will
return again and again until the bare events
become part of the story out of which we live
and see the world. We will teach our children
and marvel at their response. We will find
our own doubts and misgivings overcome by a
mature sense of wonder. God is among us.
To light a candle in a dark space is an act
of base simplicity. To share the light with
those standing near us requires no great courage.
To sing ancient hymns in the midst of children
asks only humility. To see faces of strangers
lit by the light demands little but the opening
of our eyes. To recognise our own flowering
hope in the blooming of pohutukawas is the
beginning of understanding.
The birth of our Christ, the Christmas story,
is profoundly simple.
Christian author Mike Riddell
is based in Cambridge, Waikato.
His principal present focus is writing screenplays
for upcoming films.
If there is anyone out
there who still doubts that America is a
place where all things are possible, who
still wonders if the dream of our founders
is alive in our time, who still questions
the power of our democracy, tonight is your
answer.
It’s the answer
told by lines that stretched around schools
and churches in numbers this nation has never
seen, by people who waited three hours and
four hours, many for the first time in their
lives, because they believed that this time
must be different, that their voices could
be that difference.
It’s the answer
spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat
and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian,
Native American, gay, straight, disabled
and not disabled – Americans who sent
a message to the world that we have never
been just a collection of individuals or
a collection of red states and blue states.
It’s the answer
that led those who’ve been told for
so long by so many to be cynical and fearful
and doubtful about what we can achieve to
put their hands on the arc of history and
bend it once more toward the hope of a better
day.
It’s been a long
time coming, but tonight, because of what
we did on this date in this election at this
defining moment, change has come to America. (Barack
Obama) |
faith and the financial
crisis
Jim Consedine
takes a look at the economic meltdown, points
to its basic cause in the light of the gospel,
and suggests some answers
There is no easy way to write about the financial
crisis which has hit global economy these past
months. In New Zealand, more than 20 financial
institutions have gone to the wall. The pain
of people who have lost their life’s
savings is intense and real. Many carry a sense
of betrayal. They feel they have been duped
by financial institutions. To a large degree
they are right.
Unbeknown to the average Joe and Betty investors
was the fact that they were sinking their money
into sand castles. Even Alan Greenspan, former
chairman of the US Federal Reserve (1987-2006)
admitted as much. For years he held that ‘markets
worked best, so let them’. He argued
that government intervention would be a problem,
not a solution. How wrong he was.
On 23 October 2008, before the US Government
Oversight and Reform committee, Greenspan finally
admitted a ‘flaw’ in his ideology
of market forces. He confessed his faith in
deregulation was shaken and said he was in
a “state of shocked disbelief”.
What went wrong, he suggested, was “securitising
home mortgages. Excess demand for them. And
failure to properly price them”. He failed
to mention unbridled greed, huge fraud and
no oversight.
The market heresy
Greenspan’s thinking, which
reflects the ideology of global capitalism,
is fatally flawed. The real evil of this collapse
lies at the feet of the most educated and privileged
people on the planet, who were trusted with
other’s investments and cold-bloodedly
used the system for their own gain. The common
good was simply ignored.
Finally, Greenspan has accepted that ‘the
market’ doesn’t have a soul. It
doesn’t respond to the need for compassion,
mercy, healing, forgiveness, tolerance, generosity,
social justice. These are the core values which
give meaning to life. The market sees only
the need for continually increased profit.
At the heart of the philosophy of market
values lies the sin of usury – increasing
wealth through non-productive means. We have
created a global system built on usury. It’s
a monster and will never be just, because its
foundation stone is greed. For 19 centuries
the church recognised this evil, and usury
was condemned as a mortal sin. Relying on the
market to regularise itself in the interests
of the common good and justice is a false premise.
It was always a lie, will always be a lie.
It never did regularise itself. It never can.
The Kiwi version, Rogernomics, is a lie for
the same reasons.
Theological Basis
Some of the underlying reasons for
the crisis are theological. At the heart of
the issue lies the flawed nature of humanity,
as expressed in the church’s concept
of original sin. Underpinning the whole idea
of redemption is the notion of a new elevated
status of humanity, redeemed in Christ. Good
Friday and the Empty Tomb have a lot to say
about future social relations of a redeemed
humanity and speak directly to this crisis. ‘Market
forces’, however, take no notice of these
things and rely on prevailing systems to work
things out for the common good. All the evidence
is – these systems can’t and don’t.
They are social systems driven by avarice.
Look for instance at the gap between rich
and poor nations. Hear the cries of the 30,000
children who, in a world full of resources,
die from hunger every day. Look at the lack
of human rights denied through prejudice to
billions in the world. Look at the ongoing
wars for resources with thousands of fresh
victims every year. As long as we continue
to act as if we are not redeemed, these catastrophes
will continue.
Such issues, huge as they are, are all solvable.
But only a humanity which recognises its need
of redemption and changes the way it operates
can do it. Here the role of the teaching church
is critical. She supplies the heartbeat and
the vision. But only if she engages, believes
and practises what she preaches herself. In
the past 20 years we have generally reverted
to being a devotional church, and social justice
issues have been largely ignored. |
To take one example, Wal Mart,
one of the world’s largest corporations,
pays its workers in Bangladesh between 13-17
cents per hour for working seven days a week,
16 hour days. No unions. No overtime pay. The
cheap imports made by such corporations come
to Western countries. Could we not simply refuse
to buy these imports? Dorothy Day noted such
practices “constituted a sack from which
blood is oozing”.
Christian Options
Jesus addressed some of these issues
in his teachings. He unequivocally condemned
exploitative systems and provoked the wrath
of the political and religious power brokers
of his day. “No healthy tree bears bad
fruit”, he said, “no poor tree
bears good fruit. Each tree is known by the
fruit it bears” (Luke 6). He warned against
avarice and greed. “Where your treasure
is, there will your heart be also” (Matt
6).
The ‘heart’ of capitalism lies
in making money. It worships wealth. John Paul
II gave a severe warning against it in his
encyclical On Social Concerns (March 1988),
calling such a system “structurally sinful”.
In effect, the Pope was saying the capitalist
emperor had no clothes and that so called market
forces were a fraud. But who took that warning
seriously? Catholics are just as dominated
by capitalist ideology as the next person.
What therefore can we do? There are many
notions which have appealed to thinking Christians
for centuries: financial co-operatives, microcredit
banking and a range of mutual benefit societies.
One Biblical idea is the Jubilee Year, whereby
all debts still outstanding after 50 years
are pardoned.
Voluntary poverty
Is it such a radical idea that voluntary
poverty should be promoted by Christians? Peter
Maurin, cofounder of the Catholic Worker in
the midst of the Great Depression, sought to
feed, house and clothe victims by challenging
Christians to accept personal responsibility
for their needy neighbours and share their
resources with the poor. This was nearer the
Gospel ideal of the early church.
Such an option for voluntary (or evangelical)
poverty is praised in the Gospels (Matt 5,
Luke 6). However, we must be careful never
to romanticise poverty. Severe material poverty
leads to malnutrition, violence and premature
death. Voluntary poverty however doesn’t
mean destitution, which is sinful and an enslavement
rather than a free state. Jesus came to free
us. No one should be destitute.
In simple terms, voluntary poverty recognises
we are all part of one another and “what
we own over and above what we need does not
belong to us but to the poor who have nothing” (St
Basil, 4th century). It involves acting justly
and with generosity with our money and resources “because
our neighbour is in need”. As the Second
Vatican Council pointed out: “It was
the ancient custom of the church to give generously,
not merely out of what was superfluous but
even out of what was necessary” (LG,
No 89).
Voluntary poverty insists that usury is sinful
and shouldn’t be tolerated because it
steals from the neighbour. The primary reason
why poverty exists at such scandalous levels
in so many countries today is that international
banks charge usurious interest rates on loans
that the countries can never repay. They can’t
repay even the interest, much less the capital.
Sixty years ago Dorothy Day wrote: “The
present vast possessions of the robber barons
need to be overthrown, cast down, appropriated,
decentralised, distributed etc. A vast reform
is needed. The power of the great corporations… the
great banks, will all be overthrown. And that
is something to look forward to” (Dairies,
Duty of Delight, 1948).
Just imagine if one billion Catholics took
a stand together for economic justice in their
lives and in society. It’s a pipe dream – but
the world would change overnight and economic
justice would be seen in every street.
Sadly, ideology rather than faith remains
the predominant force in so many lives, Catholics
included. Some continue playing financial games
in what Dorothy Day called “that filthy
rotten system”. The contemporary financial
crash reminds us once again us that we do so
at our peril.
Christchurch priest Fr Jim
Consedine is an author, editor and world
authority on Restorative Justice |