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Sermon
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| FAITH, SUSTAINABLE AND SUSTAINING The other little story is in today’s gospel. It refers to two disasters. One is the murder by Pontius Pilate of some Galileans going about their religious duties in the temple. The second is the collapse of a tower in Siloam, possibly part of an aqueduct, killing eighteen people. Questioners ask Jesus “Why do these things happen?” If God is good and loving and all-powerful, what are we to make of bad things happening? So, what is the link between my grandfather’s gloomy forecast and this piece of Luke’s gospel, where Jesus is asked about the meaning of disasters? Quite simply, it’s this. One of the main reasons people give up on faith and God and church is disaster of some sort, for which their beliefs prove inadequate. Three weeks ago a lady of seventy-eight, not a member here, told me she had ditched faith and God and church. Why? “Because the world is in such an awful state, and there is no help in sight; no angels or gods doing anything to fix it. I don’t believe in God any more.” I think I might give up if I wanted some giant version of what my parents were when I was a small boy. In those vulnerable early years, they were there with the protection, direction, correction that I needed. But to ensure I grew up, they began to reduce the protection, direction, correction: ‘PDC’ for short. Otherwise I would not have grown up. It seems to me that some may want a god who gives us lifelong protection, direction and correction, like we are perpetual toddlers. That is the god they want. When that seems not to be forthcoming, they conclude that God is absent, uninterested, dead or non-existent. And they become atheists because the god they once believed in makes no sense to them today. And they are voting with their feet. But it wasn’t always thus. I
Some of you will remind me, quite correctly, of a boom period in the 1950s and early 60s. Churchgoing was its highest in the history of record keeping. New churches were popping up with the new suburbs, and were packed with young families. Sunday schools had enrolments of four or five hundred. Youth groups and women’s groups ballooned, and the dads rocked up to working bees. Local churches were major social centres. And Sunday congregations were a lot bigger than today’s. So, what brought all these people together? Deep faith and commitment? Sometimes – but by no means always. There were other reasons. For some it could have been called ‘Self-improvement’. There was a feeling that going to church couldn’t do you any harm, and it might just do you a spot of good. Typical was the journo who joined my congregation in New Hampshire. He was a hard-nosed investigative reporter with nary a pious bone in his body. I said, “What brings you?” “Well, pastor,” he said, “I figure that if going to church does no more than get a man’s mind off himself for an hour a week, sure as hell that has to be good for you!” A former chief commissioner of police told me he encouraged some of his officers to go now and then. He said it was like having a good bath; you come out a bit cleaner. A second reason to link up – and a common one in the 50s and 60s – was to get a spot of Social Support. In the early 60s I did some research at Elizabeth in South Australia – the migrant/industrial centre 25km north of Adelaide. I found some young mums especially, pushing prams through unmade, muddy roads and often dislocated from familiar faces and places (many were migrants) would have caved in without finding groups of like-minded through the local churches. I remember a scientist from Weapons Research Establishment (WRE) who came regularly to the experimental congregation I ran in Elizabeth during the 70s. “I don’t believe half of what you say, John, but they’re such terrific people!” A third reason some linked up with a church was to pursue a Special Interest. Often the churches who were first on the ground in a new area. If you had a yen for music, reading, handcraft, cooking to a budget or tennis, this could be happening at the local church. A fourth reason to link up was that church gave you a chance to be of Service to others if you were that sort of a person. For instance, the churches in Elizabeth collectively set up a counselling service in the town centre. One aspect of this was financial counselling. A number of men working as accountants or in banking (some of whom weren’t awfully ‘religious’) got an opportunity to be ‘useful’ as financial counsellors – honorary, of course. Now, there was a fifth reason to link up with church, which certainly brought some people. It was their quest for what I would call a Sustainable and Sustaining Faith: a faith that made sense in the modern world and made sense of the modern world. Some who came initially for other reasons found that also. But there were many reasons people made the church connection – and they weren’t all to satisfy a hunger for the holy. Now, what has happened since then?
II
If we’re looking for those five things I’ve mentioned, we’ve a lot more places to look today. There is a vast array of what we call ‘functional alternatives’; that is, associations and activities that serve a function you may once have looked for in church. To go back over my five reasons . . . The first was Self-improvement. Today a glance at newspapers and magazines will turn up notices about the keys to inner peace, stress management programs, courses in self-expression and development, natural therapies and so on. You can even engage today what is called a ‘personal trainer’ who will turn you into an altogether beautiful person! Those who have a need for Social Support of some kind, and who have the inclination to be ‘joiners’, are well served not only by those facilities I’ve just mentioned, but with the more specialised organisations like Weight Watchers, Grow, Recovery, AA, Al-Anon, Gamblers Anonymous to mention just a few. Those who want to pursue a Special Interest – like music, reading, drama, art or any number of creative activities – also find a wealth of options available to them. To a greater or lesser extent, many of these associations or activities (like U3A, CAE and Probus) have functions for their members/clients not unlike what churches once had for their members – and still have for some. Those who are inclined toward Service have heaps of options. In addition to the well-established male organizations (Apex, Lions, Rotary, Legacy and so on) and female associations (Red Cross, school canteens, Meals on Wheels and innumerable auxiliaries) there are constantly recurring vacancies for club leadership, sports coaches and whatnot. There’s also a great variety of ad hoc and established activist and protest movements that provide scope for those who want to ‘serve’: Amnesty, Doctors without Borders, World Vision and so on. The existence of these alternatives helps to explain the lessening interest in churches. And so long as these alternatives continue to multiply, we can expect people’s energies to be diverted into them. So, what is left? III
The fifth on my list, and the one not replaced by alternatives is what I called Sustainable and Sustaining Faith. When all else is offered by other stalls and stallholders, this is the one that is not. A sustainable and sustaining faith is a faith that makes sense in the modern world and helps to make sense of the modern world. Today the church is being driven back to identify the irreducible minimum of why it exists: to offer just this. And what we are finding is that for many people – inside the door or outside – the faith they have grown up with is simply not working for them. They feel they are expected to believe what is implausible if not silly. The faith they think they're supposed to embrace is simply not sustainable. But it has to be sustaining also; that is to say, it must be the kind of faith that enables them to make sense of the modern world. I want to illustrate and close by telling you about ‘Ian MacNeill.’ A few details changed, including the name. Ian was two years my senior when I met him in 1952. His BSc was in microbiology and biochemistry, and he had started pharmacy. That was to be his life’s work. Son of a Methodist minister, Ian was a keen lay preacher and active in his congregation. Duly he bought into a business in a provincial city, where he met and married a lovely woman; they had four offspring. When Ian retired he owned two prospering pharmacies. But he was deeply unsettled. Now and again I would lunch with him at the university, and he would share his dissatisfaction. He was starting to follow in the steps of his offspring and his grandchildren, all of whom had ‘voted with their feet’ as we say. He would say, “John, we know the universe is 15 billion years old. We know it is expanding and that we’re seven million miles away from where we were this time last week. We know how life has evolved and diversified over an immensely long time. I don’t think my faith has kept up.” When Ian died last year following a massive coronary, the family opened a letter that contained his wishes about the funeral. It said “I have many questions about the faith. No ministers have answered them to my satisfaction. I suspect they don’t want to face them. I prefer not to have one of them conduct my funeral. Please engage a civil celebrant.” Ian MacNeill was not a seventeen-year-old rebel. He was a seventy-seven year old pilgrim who felt let down. There are many like him. Some have given up on faith and God and church – like the lady I mentioned at the start. St Aidan’s is a church that values the honest doubter, and seeks to address the big questions that people are asking today. After all, if we don’t collectively face up to this and have a faith to share that is both sustainable and sustaining, we will have let down the Ian MacNeills of this world, their children and their grandchildren – as well as ourselves! ___________________________________________________
An address presented by the Rev Dr John Bodycomb at St Aidan's
Uniting Church North Balwyn, on 11th March, 2007 IT MAY BE REPRODUCED WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENT. |
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Page updated 14/03/07