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Sermon
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TOO BUSY FOR THAT! Then he went on to say, “Mind you, good advertising can sell anything. How about you tell me what you are trying to sell, and I think I may be able to help you.” I thought for a while (how would you answer that question?) and said, “I think we’re trying to sell the notion that selfless love is just about the best darn thing in the whole world . . . and for the meaning of that, you look to the life and teaching of Jesus.” David uttered a well-known expletive, and said, “I’ll need a bit of time for that.” We’ve just heard another parable of Jesus that picks up this very issue; namely, the difficulty of getting people to embrace that notion. Two men are contrasted: one fabulously rich and obviously powerful, the other desperately poor and powerless. Both die and proceed to an after life. The poor man is conducted by the angels to be with father Abraham. The rich man is in what my old college principal used to call ‘the eternal barbecue’! He asks Abraham if the poor man can come to his aid. When Abraham says this is impossible, the rich man tries another move. He asks Abraham to warn his five brothers lest they too end up in this torment. Abraham says, “They’ve had Moses and the prophets; they can listen to them.” “Ah, no, father Abraham – but if someone went to them from the dead, they would change.” Abraham says, “If they’ll not listen to Moses and the prophets, they wouldn’t be convinced even if somebody came back from the dead.” In other words, some are so hermetically sealed against change, nothing will have the desired effect. But what is the desired effect? Quite simply, that they will become passionately – better still, ‘recklessly’ – committed to working for that elusive society Jesus calls the Kingdom. This is another parable about justice, you see, and about the divine wrath against those who neglect the poor and disadvantaged, the powerless and the desperate. “But’” says Jesus, “there are some whom nothing will change.” I want to explore with you why this may indeed be the case, today. I have three reasons why the Christian message, properly understood and interpreted, is inevitably hard to sell. I
First could be called THE PLEASURE PRINCIPLE. One of the elements of capitalist systems is consumerism. If we don’t consume, profits will plummet and producers will go under. Therefore we are urged to ‘consume, consume, consume’. And how is that done? By appealing to the pleasure principle. “You are entitled to this or that; you owe it to yourself to have the other. Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! ” A few months ago I had a letter from an old friend in the US from whom I’d not heard in a year or so. I will disguise it slightly. Part reads, “As you may recall, we went to Hawaii last year. The previous year we did a Mediterranean cruise. And the year before that we did China. Elmer (not his real name) is bent on travelling somewhere every year. We decided to stop home this summer because Jackie and Carl were awaiting another child. But Elmer has been so disagreeable that I sent him to the Caribbean for two weeks. He said that stopping home he was bored out of his tiny brain!” ‘Tiny brain’ is how I would have put it too. Elmer’s a nice guy, but without realising it, he has become captive to the pleasure principle – and can’t cope with the deprivation. He is the creation of the modern consumerist economy that relies on turning us into pleasure seekers. If I sound like a nasty old hellfire and brimstone preacher, so be it. I am not standing in judgement; that is God’s business. I am making a straightforward sociological observation on why my David saw problems when I said we were trying to sell the notion that selfless love was the best darn thing in the whole world. II
My second reason is related; it’s THE PICK-AND-CHOOSE MENTALITY. This is another feature of the modern market place. To illustrate, I must take you back fifty to sixty years. Some of you will remember Dorothy and Colin Martin, active members here until lymphoma ended both lives. When he was in Caritas Christi Colin gave me a copy of his memories of childhood. His father owned a grocery shop, and the description of this evoked similar memories of my own. We had our family grocer, who phoned my mother on Monday for her order, and pulled up outside on Wednesday in a ‘baby’ Austin to deliver the box of goods. But it was the butcher I remember best. Mother patronised Verity’s. Four men served us from a vast array of meat, much of it hanging from hooks just above eye level. Mick, a stocky fellow whose hairy forearms were thicker than my legs, normally looked after Mother. If I were with her, I would be witness to this conversation. “Mrs Bodycomb, my favourite customer.” “Enough of that, Mick. I want a nice (note, ‘nice’) little leg of lamb.” “I have it right here, Mrs Bodycomb; been saving it for you. It’s as tender as a woman’s heart.” “Don’t give me that nonsense. Last week’s was like an old boot!” “I didn’t sell it to you; must have been one of the other chaps.” So the dialogue would go on. Despite her complaints and Mick’s cheek, Mother would be back next week, and the next and the next and the next. Most of you can remember when we had that sort of relationship with trades-people. Mother would not have dreamt of changing grocer, fruiterer, butcher or for that matter, pharmacist, shoe shop or supplier of women’s wear. The loyalty between customer and trades-people was two-way. In biblical language, it was almost a ‘covenant’ relationship; a long-term commitment. Today we pick and choose. We go from one place to another, looking for the best price. We don’t know the sales people; nor do they know us. Customer loyalty to an old family supplier of whatever it is belongs to history. We live in a culture that seems inimical to long-term commitments, whatever the object of commitment may be. This is my second reason why many find the Christian message, and its vehicle the church, harder to embrace today. III
My third reason can be called THE PRIVATISING OF LIFE. Some call this ‘individualism’. In that ancient people known to us collectively as ‘Israel’, the individual was secondary in importance to the collective. This was a necessary emphasis when life was hard, and survival called for mutual trust and collaboration. Indeed, for the ancient Israelites, one did not talk of his personal relationship with God – like we do today. One had a relationship with God by belonging to a people that believed itself called by God to be exemplary. Last week I visited a senior member of our congregation seldom able to get here; 10 a.m. is just a bit too early in the morning. Because of something that is pertinent to this address, I asked her permission to recount it. She was watching the news coverage of this unfortunate chain of events related to the little Chinese child left at the railway station, and was distressed by this. I asked if she felt, comparing things with fifty to sixty years ago, that we lived in a nicer world, a nastier world or one that was just different. Despite clear memories of World War II (she was in the service), there was not a moment’s hesitation. “Oh, it was much better back then. There was a stability about things. And out here this wonderful sense of community. Everyone knew everyone else. We were all short of money. We helped each other out in all sorts of ways. We had these ‘sewer parties’, you know.” “Pardon. What did you say?” “Sewer parties.” “Spell it.” “S-E-W-E-R. Sewer.” “I don’t think I understand.” “Well, when we came here there wasn’t any sewerage. Then it came through. When it was your turn to be connected, all the boys (note, ‘boys’) would rally around and dig your trenches for the plumber. Then we would have a ‘sewer party’!” With the privatising of life, we are engaged less and less on a social basis with others. There are lots of things that contribute to this, of course, and I am not pointing the finger; simply noting another change in what we call ‘the culture’. With more women working and with kids involved in a multitude of activities, many seem to find it necessary to weave a protective cocoon around themselves. They guard jealously what small amount of private time seems to be left. *********
I’ve identified three features of the culture that I’m sure you all recognise when they are spelled out like this; namely ‘the pleasure principle’, ‘the pick-and-choose mentality’ and ‘the privatising of life’. I repeat that I’m offering these observations not in any critical or judgemental spirit; merely recognising how they’re expressed in people’s behaviour. But they do help to explain why a message about selfless love seems harder to ‘sell’, and why an institution that exists to promote this may be less attractive – that is, when we don’t water down, sugar coat or otherwise dress up the message to make it more attractive. The awkward thing about the ‘gospel of Jesus’ (as our minister calls it) is this summons to reckless altruism. And, as Jesus said in his parable about the rich man and the poor man, “If they’ll not hear it from Abraham and the prophets, they’ll not accept it from anyone. There are some whom nothing will change.” Pray that you and I are not among them. ___________________________________________________
An
address presented by the Rev Dr John Bodycomb at St Aidan's
Uniting Church North Balwyn, on 30th September, 2007 IT MAY BE
REPRODUCED WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF AUTHORSHIP. |
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Page updated 06/09/07