Implicated in the Sins of the Fathers?
I’ve been writing an essay for a history subject on the topic of the so-called ‘History Wars’ in Australia. Essentially, it’s about the arguments surrounding the history of the interactions between Aboriginals and Europeans in early Tasmania, and the implications of this for Australian national identity. If you need to read up on it, read Keith Windschuttle and Stuart Macintyre.
Thinking through these issues again has reminded me of something which I think I need to be reminded of more regularly.
It has had me realising once again that I live on stolen land.
Does this matter? Do the sins of the fathers have any bearing on the present? In the course of writing my essay I discovered this helpful discussion of the moral relationship between the past and the present by historian Tessa Morris-Suzuki, who describes the relationship using the term ‘implication’.
‘Implication’ means the existence of a conscious connection to the past, but also the reality of being (in a legal sense) ‘an accessory after the fact’. It is the status of those who have not stolen land from others, but who live on stolen land; the status of those who have not participated in massacres, but have participated in the process by which the memory of those massacres has been obliterated; the status of those who have not injured others, but allow the consequences of past injury to go unaddressed. ‘Implication’ means that the prejudices which sustained past acts of aggression live on into the present, and will lodge themselves in the minds of the present generation unless we make the effort to remove them.
—Tessa Morris-Suzuki, quoted in Ann Curthoys and John Docker, Is History Fiction?, p. 243.
I feel like many in the ‘present generation’ have this issue still lodged firmly in their minds. Clearly there is much still to do. What would God have us do? It is right that we should confess the sins of our national forefathers (Nehemiah 9:2, Daniel 9). Thus an apology is a good start, but, as Peter Adam argued earlier this year in his lecture Australia: Whose Land?, there is much still to be done before true recompense is made and our consciences are cleared.
One of the first steps proposed by Adam is to ‘recognize that recompense is a duty and responsibility, that we owe it to the indigenous peoples of this land, out of respect for them as our brothers and sisters made in God’s image, and out of awareness of the vileness of the crimes which have been committed against them and their ancestors.’
I hope I can be reminded more often of where it is that I live.
Capitalism, Liberal Democracy & Social Justice: Who Really Cares?
I have just seen Michael Moore’s new film, Capitalism: A Love Story. I thought it was quite good. It is, of course, entirely specific to the United States, and the financial practices portrayed are less acute in Australia. We must look massively over-regulated from the vantage of Wall St.
The thesis of the documentary is that capitalism is an evil which is incompatible with liberal democracy. The film does a great job of drawing attention to the human impact of the decisions and practices of banks and corporations. It also illustrates how the middle and working classes can be trapped in horrific economic circumstances through no fault of their own, and largely through the greed of those who control the primary financial levers.
I don’t think capitalism is the root of all evil. In attempting to think about economics within a Christian biblical worldview, some tenets of capitalism are clearly held (for example, private ownership: Leviticus 25, Acts 5:1-10). Elements of other economic systems are also affirmed, particularly the call to give generously and sacrificially from our own wealth to meet the needs of others (2 Corinthians 8 & 9, cf. Exodus 16). No economic system is prescribed by the biblical authors; rather we are to wisely steward what God has given us.
However, the film makes the vitally important point that capitalism and liberal democracy cannot exist peacefully side-by-side. At some points they will clash. Economics and politics are not separate. If democracy is for the good of all, then it must place some limits on capitalism; unless we hold capitalism as the more important, which a Wall Street Journal columnist interviewed in the film does openly.
So, that’s the film. What really interested me, though, was the response in the cinema. I saw it in Newtown, and 80% of those in attendance were middle aged, middle class urbanites. Socially aware. Environmentally conscious. Bush-haters (one woman verbally recoiled whenever the former President appeared onscreen). Exclamations of dismay and disgust were (rightly) uttered as weeping mothers recounted their evictions. The film ends with Moore calling those who are watching to join him in a growing social movement against the powers of capitalism. There was applause at the film’s end.
But will anyone really make a difference? It strikes me that even if some who were present do write a letter to the federal government calling for tighter regulation and support those who lose their homes in conversation and via petition, many would be less willing to buy a house for a dispossessed family, or take them in. In a political system with strong government intervention, it is easy to leave ‘helping people’ up to the state. This often severely limits our social consciences. Welfare? Yes, but as long as it doesn’t cost me anything.
The biblical approach to wealth is clear. What we have is not our own. Do not seek wealth, and be radically generous. How do urban, socially aware, middle-class whiteys like me stack up? Are we hungry for justice, or simply angry with those who are wealthier than we? Have we realised that we can’t all be ‘rich,’ or are we finding new ways to justify our own wealth by comparing it to that of others?
Learning to see beauty
I’ve been thinking heaps lately about the way in which Jesus brings great beauty to the brokenness of the world. When we have Jesus before us as we think of the world, we can find real peace when things suck; when we understand what his death and resurrection means, we can appreciate the complex intertwining of both beauty and distress in the world. That through Jesus all things will be reconciled to God (Colossians 1:20) gives us both hope in what lies ahead for the world, and places great value on what we see in the present, marred though it is. Jesus sees enough beauty in what is unlovely that he died for it (and not least me). Comprehending that truth opens our eyes to see the beauty he sees as well.
Some great writers have helped me process this.
Shall I tell you again the new word
the new word of the unborn day?
It is Resurrection.
The resurrection of the flesh.
For our flesh is dead
only egoistically we assert ourselves.
And the new word means nothing to us,
it is such an old word,
till we admit how dead we are,
till we actually feel as blank as we really are.
—The New Word, by D. H. Lawrence
I feel sometimes as if I were a child who opens its eyes to the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for and then has to close its eyes again. I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is a human beauty in it. And I can’t believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great dream of procreating and perishing that meant the whole world to us.
—From Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson
For the creation eagerly waits with anticipation for God’s sons to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to futility—not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it—in the hope that the creation itself will also be set free from the bondage of corruption into the glorious freedom of God’s children. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together with labor pains until now. And not only that, but we ourselves who have the Spirit as the firstfruits—we also groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. Now in this hope we were saved, yet hope that is seen is not hope, because who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with patience.
Asylum seekers & the PM!
Meredith Lake gives some statistics on asylum seekers coming to Australia, and suggests writing the PM a little letter. I can do nothing but encourage you to read and to act.
The key to understanding: A reflection on Colossians 1:17
I had the privilege recently of guiding the teaching time in my congregation at church. We’ve just completed a series looking at what the bible has to say about the environment. I was lucky enough to get Colossians 1:15-20 as my passage—possibly one of the most beautiful passages in the whole of the New Testament! Here it is (it’s speaking about Jesus):
15He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.
16For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities;
all things were created by him and for him.
17He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.
18And he is the head of the body, the church;
he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy.
19For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him,
20and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.
What struck me more clearly than ever is this verse (speaking about Jesus): ‘in him all things hold together’ (Colossians 1:17b).
Some take this to mean that Jesus sustains the whole of the created order. I agree. But I think what is being said here is much grander than that. The word translated in English as ‘hold together’ or ‘consist’ (Greek: συνίστημι, synistēmi) means to bring together, or to organise in such a way as to comprehend.
What’s the point? In Jesus, we find the meaning and fulfilment of all things. All things is another interesting phrase, but it means just that: everything.
In this man Jesus, all things finally make sense!
This is a beautiful thing. For me, at least, it is a confirmation that when we look at Jesus of Nazareth, the beginningless Creator who became a part of his creation, died, and was raised to new life, all the pain and purposelessness of the world are accounted for and dealt with. In him we know our value, as created beings worth the life of the creator, and see reconciliation promised in his resurrection.
If this is true, it’s also a challenging thing. It presents a real challenge to all our human attempts to organise information and understand the world around us, and to understand each other. If Jesus is as central as this passage seems to indicate, if he is the key to understanding everything, then no one can have a full, proper understanding of human existence without him.
If Jesus of Nazareth truly died, truly was raised, and truly is God in the flesh, then he is also the key to everything. What difference might that make to the way we view the world and seek to understand it?
Aimless Hope, Dangerous Hope, or Real Hope?
I’m watching The Shawshank Redemption. There’s this great dialogue between Andy & Red, with two conflicting ideas about hope.
Andy: ‘There are places in this world that aren’t made out of stone. That there’s something inside… that they can’t get to, that they can’t touch. That’s yours.’
Red: ‘What’re you talking about?’
Andy: ‘Hope.’
Red: ‘Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane.’
It stood out to me because I’m also busily reading German theologian Jurgen Moltmann’s Theology of Hope. It explores the hope we can have in Yahweh, the God of the bible. Hope in Yahweh is real hope. Andy and Red’s versions of hope both fall woefully short of the mark. The promises of Yahweh, the one true God, are made of stone. They are made of stone in that they are certain. They are sure. Yahweh is the one who promises, and he is faithful to his promise. Real hope is not waiting for some undefinable, invisible future. Such hope is baseless and powerless. Real hope is in the promise of Yahweh, a certain promise for a certain future, a new reality which God will bring about. Real hope anticipates the future promised by the bodily resurrection of Jesus. Real. Physical. Yes, real hope is within us; but only because of the God who is outside of us, outside of the world, who has come into th world in Jesus to reconcile all things to himself.
Real hope does not drive insane. But it may be dangerous. Whether or not it is dangerous depends on your perspective. Real hope opens our sight to the future reality that God has made possible through Jesus. It gives us strength to persevere. It also gives us a programme. Because real hope looks towards the sure and certain future of Jesus the Christ, we can begin to live in the present in light of that future. Real hope gives us strength to change the present, shaping things that they might also point towards that certain future. As Moltmann says, echoing Psalm 104, real hope sees us as part of God’s work to ‘change the face of the face of the world.’
Dangerous hope? Maybe. There will always be those who want the world to remain as it is. For them, real hope stands as an obstacle to their desire for power and authority which does not rightly belong to them. I, for one, look forward to the return of Jesus the Christ, who will make all things new. In the meantime, I can’t wait to keep enjoying the ways in which God chooses to use my brothers and sisters and I to put our hope into practice. Real hope.
Podcasted!
The gentlemen over at the Pilgrim’s Podcast kindly allowed me to ramble for a bit. Grab it here.
Those guys are pretty rad. And, as rad guys do, they blog! Check them out! Mark Earngey’s at seeing in a mirror dimly, & Steve Gardner’s at All Things New.
Development and the Church Part II
Know Hope
In an earlier post (Development and the Church Part I) I talked about my experience building houses in a village in rural Cambodia as part of a church ‘mission trip’, and posed the question: as a Christian, was it worth it?
My answer is a pretty simple ‘yes’. The reason is the particular shape of Christian hope.
Christian hope is based on Jesus’ resurrection: a real, physical resurrection to a new kind of life. The resurrection means that the new creation Christians are looking forward to has already begun in the present. As such, our hope is not simply for the future; it is a hope which makes a difference in the present. Tom Wright explores this idea and its implications much more eloquently than I:
“The message of Easter is that God’s new world has been unveiled in Jesus Christ and that you’re now invited to belong to it. And precisely because the resurrection was and is bodily, albeit with a transformed body, the power of Easter to transform and heal the present world must be put into effect both at the macro-level, in applying the gospel to the major problems of the world.”
Because of this truth, the Church is called to get to work in the present, to give signs of this hope to the world:
“It [Easter] is the story of God’s kingdom being launched on earth as in heaven, generating a new state of affairs in which the power of evil has been decisively defeated, the new creation has been decisively launched, and Jesus’ followers have been commissioned and equipped to put that victory, and that inaugurated new world, into practice.”
-Tom Wright, Surprised By Hope
Building in a Cambodian village
Don’t misunderstand what Wright is saying: the new creation that Christians hope for will not come in fullness until Jesus returns. Nevertheless, in and through Jesus, Christians have overcome the powers of darkness, and so have the freedom to work for the good of the world. This isn’t an option for some Christians who are interested in development, social renewal, medical aid; it’s part of the calling of the Church. Wright goes on to say that the Church should pursue justice, beauty and evangelism as an anticipation of the future we wait for; tangible signs of what is to come as we wait for it. They are part of our proclamation, so that the world might know hope, as found in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
It is also, I think, worth pointing out that the works of hope we undertake in the present aren’t simply a sketch of something for the future. Rather, as with Jesus’ resurrection, what we do in the present will last into the new creation. Revelation 21, speaking about the city of the new creation, announces that “The nations will walk in its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. Each day its gates will never close because it will never be night there. They will bring the glory and honour of the nations into it” (21.24-26). What happens in this world is not nothing. Christians know what future is in store, and it guides our actions in the present, while we wait. On Christan hope, theologian Jürgen Moltmann says this:
“In its eyes the world is full of all kinds of possibilities, namely all the possibilities of the God of hope. It sees reality and mankind in the hand of him whose voice calls into history from its end, saying, ‘Behold, I make all things new’, and from hearing this word of promise it acquires the freedom to renew life here and to change the face of the world.”
-Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope
What precisely will last into the new creation from this one, I do not know. I’m open to suggestions! But one thing seems clear: the mission of the Church is to bring hope to the world, doing so always in the name of Jesus Christ.
Mercy Triumphs Over Judgement…Or Does It?
Today the man convicted for the 1988 Lockerbie bombing was released from his Scottish prison. Abdelbaset Ali Mohmet al-Megrahi’s horrifying crime destroyed a Pan Am Boing 747 in Lockerbie, Scotland, killing 270 people. He has been released because of his terminal illness, and has now returned home to Libya to be with his family.
Reaction from the U.S. (home to many of the victims) was swift and severe: President Barack Obama has labelled the decision a “mistake”, and the US Attorney General said “There is simply no justification for releasing this convicted terrorist whose actions took the lives of 270 individuals, including 189 Americans.”
Lockerbie bombing, 1988
The incident reminds me of one a couple of years ago, when convicted Australian mass murderer Ivan Milat was given a TV in prison, which provoked outrage from the families of his victims and was overturned by the NSW state government.
The bible speaks of a God thus: “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin” (Exodus 34). The apostle James says “Mercy triumphs over judgement” (James 2.13b).
It is distressingly true that al-Megrahi remains unrepentant, and claims the guilty verdict was a “disgrace.” He was welcomed by a large crowd on his arrival in his home country.
The first half of that verse from James, in a passage encouraging Christians not to judge one-another but show mercy, says “judgment is without mercy to the one who hasn’t shown mercy” (James 2.13a).
The Scottish Justice Secretary has said “Our justice system demands that judgment be imposed but compassion be available. Our beliefs dictate that justice be served, but mercy be shown.”
I for one can’t help being impressed by the compassion shown to this man. Compassion is so often lacking in our justice systems. Nevertheless, the guilty man’s own lack of mercy makes the decision troubling.
Who is right? Should mercy be shown in this case?
UPDATE: The Scottish Justice Minister continues to defend his decision against heavy opposition. Read and see his speech to parliament here. Notable quotes:
The perpetration of an atrocity and outrage cannot and should not be a basis for losing sight of who we are, the values we seek to uphold, and the faith and beliefs by which we seek to live.
Mr. al-Megrahi did not show his victims any comfort or compassion. But that alone is not a reason for us to deny compassion to him and his family in his final days.
Indigenous Australians & Australian Christians
Development & the Church: Part II is almost ready! In the meantime, some interesting thoughts on Australian Christians & indigenous reconciliation.
Earlier this week, Peter Adam (Principal of Ridley Theological College in Melbourne) presented a paper titled Australia: Whose Land? A Call for Recompense. You can download it here.
The paper was presented as the annual John Saunders Lecture. The event is sponsored by the Baptist Union of NSW Social Issues Committee and seeks to address contemporary social and ethical issues in Australia from a scholarly evangelical perspective. Bear with me as I rather inadequately sum up his argument!
Adam’s approach is provocative, moving and, I suspect, correct. He confronts the issues with boldness and a desire for truth: we European Australians live on stolen land, land which was taken from its owners, who were given this land by the ultimate owner, God himself; land whose inhabitants were murdered in order for the invaders to increase their wealth. Furthermore, his argument is well supported using biblical texts.
The bible teaches that when a wrong has been committed, we are to repent. This holds true even in the present era of grace, in which we have free forgiveness through the death and resurrection of Jesus. Adam points out, quoting Dietrich Bonhoeffer , that to say otherwise is to advocate “cheap grace.” The ethical teaching of the bible, not least that of Jesus himself, teaches that the grace we have recieved ought move us to reconcile with our neighbours.
But does this apply to Australian Christians 200 years after the dislocation and genocide of indegenous Australians began? While 21st century European Australians are not directly responsible for these things, Adam argues that we still bear responsibility for recompense to Australia’s original owners as we continue to benefit from the sins of previous generations:
We may still feel that as we did not commit the great sins of breaking several of the Ten Commandments: ‘You shall not kill,’ ‘You shall not steal,’ ‘You shall not covet,’ that we should not have to repent.
But the Bible warns us that the sign of God’s wrath is not only that people commit gross sins, but also approve of those who commit gross sins:
Full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, craftiness, they are gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, rebellious toward parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless. They know God’s decree, that those who practice such things deserve to die—yet they not only do them but even applaud others who practice them. (Romans 1.29-32).
As Christians, Adam continues, Australia’s churches should be the first to make genuine reconciliation with our indigenous brothers and sisters, made in the same image of God, just as we are. The onus of repentance (which includes making what has gone before right, as opposed to simply apologising) lies with us, the recipients of “stolen property.” As such, he calls us to radical repentance:
“We [should] ask the indigenous people if they wanted those of us who have arrived since 1788 to leave, or to provide an equivalent recompense. Leaving would be a drastic and complicated action, but, as I have pointed out, it has happened in India, Africa, and Indonesia in the last sixty years.”
I for one can’t help but feel the weight of Peter Adam’s words. As Australians, and especially as Christians called to love our neighbour, we must wrestle with this issue. Will Australian Christians heed the call?
I'm a Christian in my 20s, living in Newtown, Australia. The struggle that characterises me is to let Jesus of Nazareth shape my life. This blog is an attempt to think about what being a follower of Jesus looks like, for me and for God's Church, in a world marred by evil; a world in which it can be hard to find a moral code that makes sense of our bizarre (yet beautiful!) existence.