Perhaps the everlasting church squabbles about ordination of women and about gay and lesbian people boil down to this:<blockquote>It is a question of making conflicts more visible, of making them more essential than mere confrontations of interests or mere institutional immobility. Out of these conflicts, these confrontations, a new power relation must emerge whose first temporary expression will be a reform. If at the base there has not been the work of thought upon itself and if, in fact, modes of thought, that is to say modes of action, have not been altered, whatever the project for reform, we know that it will be swamped, digested by modes of behaviour and institutions that will always be the same.</blockquote>—Michael Foucault, <i>Politics, philosophy, culture</i> (New York: Routledge, 1990), 156.
Al Hsu writes about his collection of autographed books and the many differing inscriptions the authors use. His favourite was inscribed by Michael Card, who used the apostle Paul’s expression: “Grace and peace.”, found in some form in all Paul’s epistles.
What many don’t realize is that Paul coined a new phrase. “Grace” or “Grace to you” sounded like the standard Greek greeting, but was infused with theological meaning. On the other hand, “Peace” was a Jewish blessing that sounds weightier in the Hebrew: “Shalom.”
Paul knew that many of his congregations were torn by factional strife. But he didn’t say, “Grace to you Gentiles, and shalom to you Jews.” Grace is not just for Greeks, and peace is not just for Jews. God’s desire was for the whole community to receive his grace and experience his shalom—not merely the absence of conflict, but the fullness of well being, harmony, wholeness, and life.
So Paul said, “Grace and peace to you.” Paul addressed Gentile and Jewish believers together, as members of one body. He wrote in continuity with their cultural and ethnic backgrounds, yet pointed to a new, countercultural reality. He combined a Greek greeting and a Hebrew greeting to create a distinctively Christian greeting.
Paul did not neuter the cultural particulars of the church’s constituents. Nor did he emphasize identity politics or pit categories against each other. Instead, he affirmed the communities’ distinct identities, then transcended them to forge a new identity in which the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. He modeled unity amid cultural diversity, as experienced in the church’s birth at Pentecost. …
The church embodies a radically peculiar social order that incorporates vastly dissimilar people. In Paul’s day, the world was divided between Jew and Gentile, slave and free, male and female. But he dared to imagine a Christian community that not only included all of these, but also enjoyed interdependent relationships. The power of the church’s witness was due, at least in part, to the compelling alternative this new society offered to the world around it. &hellip
Paul would argue that our common identity transcends our differences. He would plead with us to treat one another charitably, to extend grace, and to make peace with one another. …
When signing books, letters, and e-mails, “Grace and peace” has become my customary benediction. It has also become my prayer for the church, that we would truly bestow grace and peace on one another and, in so doing, offer a prophetic witness to our world. May it be so.
Seems like an excellent suggestion. But I wonder whether I would seem pompous or condescending if I bestowed ‘grace’? Isn’t that, perhaps, something for God to do? I’m not an apostle. Yet, if Paul could offer grace, surely I can too?
30 November, just gone, was the feast day of Andrew the Apostle, a day for me to remember and honour my Scottish heritage. Andrew is, of course, the patron of Scotland, his feast is the Scots national day, and his symbol is the Scottish flag, the Saltire, with its diagonal cross.
Just as Andrew was the first of the Apostles, so his feast signals the beginning of the church year, the first Sunday of Advent being the Sunday on or nearest Andrew’s feast. St. Andrew’s is also the day for ordinations in our diocese, Canberra and Goulburn, and the Saltire is flown above the cathedral.
James and I will celebrate with some very un-Scottish food, at our favourite Indian restaurant. We’ll talk of plans for 2014. Each year, Advent, the new year season, is a time to prune, chop off no-longer-useful tasks and commitments, and make room for more important things—more time for prayer, exercise and writing.
Don’t blame the system or the season for travel chaos. “Stay put. Hypermobility is now the opium of the people, an obsession that wrecks communities and planet. There are no free trips.” So writes (22 Dec 09) Simon Jenkins, responding to complaints by snow- and ice-bound European travellers.
My solution to winter travel chaos? Don’t travel. Stay indoors. Build a fire. Live and shop within walking distance of civilisation. Associate with neighbours. See distant relatives some other time of the year.
In geographically large countries like Australia, Canada, the US and China, moving across country is not just a local move, it’s a migration. When my forebears migrated from the UK to Australia and New Zealand, they expected never to return. The most recent such migrant was grandmother in 1921. She subsequently visited England just once, by sea, of course. The journey was expensive and took months. Most long-distance journeys now take mere hours and are more affordable. But they remain costly.
Above all, do not complain if you insist on laying siege to motorways, stations and airports and the weather or the labour force let you down, as they do every year. It is not their fault, it is yours for being there. Of all human activities that bring out the selfish in mankind, nothing compares with travel. […] I am a free and independent spirit innocently enjoying the right to roam; you are a travel-mad lemming who thinks he has a God-given right to tarmac, train or plane just when I am there. Get out of my way. […] Traveling does as much damage to the earth’s atmosphere as all other domestic activities put together. Yet powered movement is a craving no government is willing to curb. Hypermobility is the totem of personal liberty. […] Meanwhile the government pursues a policy of closing such local institutions as primary schools, cottage hospitals and post offices and encouraging out of town shopping and rural housing estates. All lead to an increase in the need for motor travel. If a hospital visit requires a drive of 50 rather than five miles, the NHS does not pay but someone does; indeed everyone does.
Having just returned from overseas it would be hypocritical in the extreme for me to condemn all travel. Yet it’s wise to try to live, work and socialise in the same neighbourhood. It’s not essential to travel just to be with people to no great purpose. Now is the first time in my life when I have been within walking distance of my local church, and of shops, markets and services adequate to my needs.
As the geographer, John Adams, points out, mobility may seem “liberating and empowering for individuals”, but it also destroys the propinquity essential to more efficient living and to community and civic cohesion. Like the internet, which paradoxically appears to boost travel by making it more efficient, hypermobility has replaced real neighbourhoods with pseudo ones.
People rush anywhere that delivers a new experience, from a weekend break to a global warming conference. Hypermobility is the opium of the people. It panders to instant gratification while dulling a sense of community.
Yes and no. Some ‘pseudo’ neighbourhoods are real communities. The members of our small church come from an area about 60km across, yet they are very much a family.
Since hypermobility both dilutes a sense of place and (mostly) increases carbon emissions, governments should be charged with curbing or at least not promoting it. This means planning the town and country so as to minimise the need for ever longer journeys. It means rationing travel capacity by congestion or by price. Since governments are scared of price, most choose to ration by congestion. Summer and winter “road and rail chaos” is the result, with blame conveniently attaching to operators. Everybody thinks it is cars, trains and planes that cause gridlock—when in reality it is people. There is no absolute right to roam. There is no free trip. We must initiate the rebirth of domestic space.
Just so. There is no right to travel, it’s a costly privilege.
As Christmas looms, it’s hard to believe that I have experienced rather more than sixty of them. Many were at home with my parents, brother and sister—and good fun too. More recently there have been younger relatives, and James too. But the Christmases are blurred together in my memory so that I can’t distinguish one from another.
One I do remember was spent here, on the platform of the Yass Junction Railway station.
I was travelling by special train as part of large group of YFC teenagers from Melbourne to Brisbane; we planned to be on the Gold Coast for Christmas. A train ahead of us was derailed and we spent many hours on this platform, with a Christmas service in the hot sun and meals of sandwiches sent from Canberra—60 km or so distant. We slept on the floor of the train.
Christmas wasn’t really derailed; there was worship, there was fellowship, there was even Christmas food (cold, in Sydney the next day).
In 2008 I was heartened by Tony Kevin’s conclusion (Eureka Street 11 Apr 08) that Prime Minister Rudd’s current trip was doing much to repair the damage done by the Howard government to Australia’s international reputation. For there was much repair work to be done. In particular, we had to stop slavishly emulating the U.S. foreign policy. Mr Kevin said then:
I don’t think Rudd-immersed in domestic politics these past ten years—understands how much Australia put the UN General Assembly offside under John Howard’s rule. … Still-fresh images of Australia voting with UN pariahs, the US and Israel and a few bought failed states, and of Australian delegates taking orders from US delegates in corridors, behind the meeting rooms and near the toilets, will not be quickly forgotten.
Australia offended the majority UN membership by the way we treated refugees in detention, by pushing refugee boats away, by anti-Muslim harassment at home …
I’ll stop there. We’re doing it all again. I try not to be too angry or ashamed.