Rattled into action

Do not model yourselves on the behaviour of the world around you, but let your behaviour change, modelled by your new mind. This is the only way to discover the will of God and know what is good, what it is that God wants, what is the perfect thing to do.

Romans 12:2

Not unsurprisingly in our post-modern world, belief and action are often disconnected for many. Whether it is the fundamental belief in God and the consequent way in which I live my life; being in awe of God and not finding the time to pray or worship; accepting the human rights of all, but failing to act on refugees and asylum seekers; in the dignity of work for all Australians but buying overseas manufactured goods… There are a few who keep us honest, who work with us and for us to remind us that action must be an outcome of belief.

The Gospel challenges and propels us to draw belief and action together. Matthew (16:24) writes: If anyone wants to be a disciple of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. There isn’t an either/or. It’s all or nothing. Now, what would that have sounded like to the first disciples? To the Matthaen community? And how does it resound in us today? Those first disciples must have been in a state of shock, why take up a cross, is discipleship itself so uncompromising, so demanding? And what about Matthew’s Jewish community: the very idea of taking up a Roman cross – a capital punishment – in order to follow Jesus! That would be anathema. And to us today? Would we not claim it as unreasonable? Don’t we have families, mortgages, jobs? Sure we believe, but you cannot expect too much of us.

If you have children and they play sport you would already know the dearth of volunteers. From surf club, soccer, cricket and basketball, I did my parental duty; collected coaching certificates, scored cricket, did bench duties, presided over meetings, sat on boards. Twenty years after my sons started playing soccer, I was still doing gate duty on Saturdays at the local soccer club. I, for one, certainly believe in the benefit of sport – but in order for it to happen it needs people to give of their time and energy. Action is always louder than words.

Australia is alive at this very time. But no matter what political persuasion you might be, it is both fascinating and invigorating to see people standing tall and speaking out about global warming, carbon tax, forest deals, cuts in funding for schools, same sex marriage. If we are just all talk, no one listens. If we take action, people are noticed.

Perhaps Jesus’ ultimate challenge is to keep us honest. To keep prodding us to think and re-think the way we operate in our world, to challenge the very foundations of who and what we are, and to rattle us into action. Discussing politics or human rights over a BBQ and beer, or canapés and chardonnay is fine, if you don’t expect to change the world. You get the gist of where Jesus is inviting us to go. Maybe we won’t or can’t go all the way, but it shouldn’t stop us giving it a go.

Peter Douglas

 

Europe’s alt-right takes to the high seas to intercept refugees

by David Stewart

Newly emerging far-right groups have been “crowdfunding”—raising money online—to pay for a purported defense of Europe. The aim of the new-right is to target vessels of various charities and aid agencies that are trying to rescue refugees at risk on the Mediterranean in make-shift or foundering vessels. Their action plan is to physically disrupt these humanitarian missions.

History shows no shortage of risible, if not hare-brained enterprises that flow from scatty ideologies. Ideology and pathology are often close-family; among their first cousins you can count xenophobia and bigotry. And this summer’s so far largely botched far-right activism on the Mediterranean Sea, attacking refugee rescue boats, would be laughable were it not so appalling.

Earlier in the summer, a shadowy French-based group had managed to divert a search-and-rescue ship off Sicily, using, as far as can be ascertained, a hired high-speed vessel. Since then, the group has become more prominent, calling themselves “Identitarians,” a neologism with at least some connection to a French far-right faction self-identifying as “Génération Identitaire.” According to the U.K.-based anti-Fascist activist group Hope not Hate, the group is presently relaunching their operations under the banner of “Defend Europe.”

This summer’s so far largely botched far-right activism on the Mediterranean Sea, attacking refugee rescue boats, would be laughable were it not so appalling.

The avowed aim is to “defend Europe” from refugees. Typically, the language that Identitarians use is emotive and xenophobic; milder examples include “swarms” and “invasions” of refugees amid much talk of threats to European culture and a looming catastrophe for white identity. They accuse aid agencies of collusion with the human-traffickers that are putting helpless and defenseless refugees on the water.

The Guardian reported that the French faction’s website, which has apparently been taken down or removed to the “dark web,” had claimed: “We are losing our safety, our way of life, and there is a danger we Europeans will become a minority in our own European homelands.”

This emerging movement has attracted praise on several occasions from the U.S. Breitbart news agency, and it has been likened it to “alt-right” groups in the United States. German media sources trace its rise in part to a right-wing young adult group that began to emerge in 2015. Its first public action had been to unveil a banner across Berlin’s landmark Brandenburg Gate bearing the slogan: “Sichere Grenzen, sichere Zukunft” (“Safe borders, secure future”). Several media sources describe Identitarians as “new-right hipsters.” German chancellor Angela Merkel, soon up for re-election, has attracted much hostility from her country’s new right after promoting hospitality to refugees over the last two years.

The Identitarians have succeeded in raising at least £50,000 ($66,000) toward the purchase of a vessel. One social media thread, since taken down, appeared to suggest that they were in the market for lightweight, high-powered boats. That has attracted criticism from more mainstream anti-immigration groups, concerned that their Greenpeace-mimicking fellow travelers will undermine what they believe is a cogent political case for reducing migration into Europe.

So far their maritime efforts have proved to be inept, if irritating to the aid agencies, and publicity about their antics has been largely negative. The Mongolian-flagged ship they have acquired was detained in the Suez Canal after its captain failed to produce the necessary documentation.

The U.K. columnist Katie Hopkins, known for her outspoken xenophobic and bigoted stances, did Identitarians no favors by joining them last week in Sicily. Ms. Hopkins, who has advocated the use of gunships to stop refugees, was recently fired from London’s LBC talk-radio station for a series of offensive statements. Her self-churning controversy culminated in her call for a “final solution” to be visited upon Muslims after the Manchester bombing earlier this summer. During the U.S. presidential campaign candidate Donald J. Trump spoke warmly of this woman, describing her as a “respected British journalist” on more than one occasion.

Falling into the background is the continuing tragedy of refugees trying to enter the European Union by the Mediterranean. Pope Francis has continued his advocacy for refugees, trying to keep this human disaster in the public eye. In the weeks to come, he will have no doubt more to say. But advocates for refugees increasingly find that news-fatigue is among the chief obstacles they face.

Once again in 2017, the peak summer migration season has seen many calamities and a great loss of life. The refugee tragedy has not come to an end even if reporting about it has. All too often, what little reporting there is fails to confront ideology-driven xenophobic propaganda about refugees as a menace. It is a reflection of a massive failure by European media: when innocent people die horrible deaths by drowning and now face harassment on the high seas by groups like Defend Europe, someone has to step up to confront the fake news.

This article appeared in print, under the headline "Europe’s far right attempts to harass refugees on Mediterranean," in the September 4, 2017 issue of America.

Knowing him

When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi he put this question to his disciples, ‘Who do people say the Son of Man is?’ And they said, ‘Some say he is John the Baptist, some Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’ ‘But you,’ he said ‘who do you say I am?’ Then Simon Peter spoke up, ‘You are the Christ,’ he said, ‘the Son of the living God.’

Matthew 16:13 - 16

What does it take to know someone? To know them well? Do you need to know about their family, where and when they were born, racial and language background, socio-economic context, where they went to school, who they grew up with, what their interests were as a younger person, what their hopes and dreams were, what university they went to, their first jobs, what they believed in, whether they practised a particular religion, were they fundamentalists, liberals or conservatives, played sport, liked a nice bottle of wine, craft beer, were vegetarian, on the left, right or centre of the political spectrum, prefer SUVs to sedans, gender identity and sexual preference, married or in a relationship, enjoyed board games, travelled widely, have children, did volunteer work, were good company, had charm, easy to get along with, exercised regularly, kept a tidy office or home, generous to charities, respectful of the law, acknowledged their own failings, were encouraging of others, self-deprecating? Would you still know them? Would you be surprised if they did something out of the ordinary that would cause you to say: I would never have expected them to do that. When do you really know someone?

I met my wife, Toni, 37 years ago. And after 37 years I would suggest that we know each other quite well. I know lots of things about her, in fact most of the things above. But yes. There are times when I am very surprised by something she says or does. And so I learn something else about her. You see, this is because something happens to me when I am surprised. Toni is still Toni, but my knowledge about her continues to grow.

Jesus questions Peter, “Who do you say I am?” (Matthew 16:13ff). Peter knew Jesus’ mother and family, and he had already been a disciple of Jesus for the last few years. He doesn’t say, “You’re Jesus, son of Joseph and Mary of Nazareth.” He doesn’t recount aspects of Jesus’ life and character or recall where and when he attended synagogue. Nor does he mention Jesus’ childhood, his profession, what his ambitions and expectations were, whether he could sing and dance, if he was a disappointment to his friends and family. No. Peter goes to the heart of very person that Jesus was: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And how did Peter come to that conclusion?  Did he add up all that he knew of and about Jesus to come to this answer?

We do know that something propelled Peter. It was something that was happening in him – not what was happening in Jesus. Peter’s eyes and his own heart were opened, and the revelation was breaking into him. He recognised who Jesus was. He was the Christ.

This Peter knew and believed after a short three years.

I enjoy a good auto/biography, particularly those that capture that special aspect of character that 'defines' them. I've mentioned before John Selby Spong's Here I stand, Bill Clinton's My life, Barack Obama's The audacity of hope, and especially Jenny Hocking's Gough Whitlam: a moment in history. In stories such as these we see the self-revelation and growth through the eyes of experience, and we see the spark of character woven back into their childhoods and early years.

For the rest of us who leave no written biographies behind, it’s not what we do, where we come from, or even what our story is. It is our openness and willingness to see into the heart of others, to see who they really are. You and I are made in God’s image, we are unique. This is who we are. If we had the opportunity to look into the eyes of Jesus himself, would our answer be any different from that of Peter?

That opportunity, of course, is before us every day. The face of Jesus can be seen in every person we meet. ‘

Peter Douglas

Spiritual but not Religious: What are Today's 'New Pilgrims' Looking For?

by Joanna Kujawa

Some years ago, when my friend asked me why I was going on a Christmas pilgrimage to Jerusalem, I was not sure what answer I could give her.

At that stage of my life I was still struggling with the innate notion that there is a divine presence in our life, although not necessarily what I was brought up with - which, in my case, was Catholicism.

It was a few years before I got seriously interested in esoteric Hinduism (Kashmir Shaivism) and the Gnostic teachings of early Christians.

After a short pause I told her that I was not going on a traditional devotional group pilgrimage. I was going with two friends to forge some connection with the great spiritual figure of the West which, however, stopped making sense to me.

The traditional Christmas stories of "baby Jesus" were no more than memories of my own childhood and family Christmas dinners. Apart from that they felt infantile and somehow inadequate to my life dilemmas, such as the break up of a significant relationship or striving for spiritual and professional fulfilment.

To my surprise, my friend understood. "I get it," she said. "You're going there for spiritual but not religious reasons." The simplicity of this statement gave me a lot to think about. Spiritual but not religious? Like all statements that are true to us (and this is a very subjective take), this one changed my life.

Recently I was writing an academic paper on spiritual experience and came across William James's classic The Varieties of Religious Experience. In it he discusses the vital difference between the individual spiritual experience and its institutionalised form. He so eloquently calls this difference "religious experience versus institutionalised churching" or "corporate dominion." James argues that most traditional religions are often inspired by a charismatic religious figure or a religious genius who is capable of transmitting the religious experience of the divine, or even the ecstatic feeling of oneness with the divine, to his or her followers.

However, this is where the good part ends and the process of institutionalisation begins. The process of institutionalisation of the spiritual experience is both regrettable and necessary. Necessary because the teachings (or the memory of the spiritual experience in the presence of the teacher) in this way are preserved for future generations (such as the writing of gospels). Regrettable because in the processes of preservation and the institutionalisation of the essence of the original spiritual experience, it is dogmatised and regulated.

Thus, something which is essentially our link to the limitless is circumscribed and limited by the understanding of its well-meaning codifiers, their cultural backgrounds, beliefs and attitudes towards women, and similar things.

In time, those beliefs change the limited and dogmatised version of the original spiritual experience, and the message loses its appeal. I believe this is exactly what Western society is going through at the moment. Churches are empty and people are seeking an original spiritual experience, with the religions of the West and Buddhism and different forms of yoga the most popular choices. This is what some scholars call "the massive subjective turn" and the "unchurching" of the West.

Indeed, in her book Looking for Mary Magdalene, Anna Fedele reaches a similar conclusion. In her study of pilgrims who travel to the Catholic shrines in Southern France she noted that the pilgrims clearly separate themselves from their original faith. They do not go there out of traditional Catholic piety. They go there because they try to find spiritual experience and try to find meaning in alternative (often considered heretical) interpretations of the sites.

They visit the shrines because, for example, they read books by Margaret Starbird and want to re-connect with the "real" Mary Magdalene, not the one presented by the orthodoxy as a penitent prostitute. Fedele calls such people the "new pilgrims," Westerners who attempt to create a new meaning for their spirituality away from the orthodox interpretations that do not make sense to them anymore. As Linda Woodhead would say, they have made their own "subjective" turn in search of meaning.

In many ways, this is nothing new. Elaine Pagels in The Gnostic Gospels traced the process of the establishment of the early Christian church, where different powers at hand and different interpretations of Jesus's teachings were fighting for their place in the codification process during the first centuries of Christianity. To apply Michele Foucault's term, what was experienced in the founding centuries of early Christianity was a form of a "discursive shift," when old and new elements mixed in the creation of an institutionalised belief.

The same, I would argue, happens to the "new pilgrims" in the West: they attempt to create a new discursive shift that makes sense to a person in the twenty-first century. They look for an original spiritual experience which is not fossilised by the dogmatism of established religions. In other words, they are starved for meaning that organised religions fail to deliver.

Joanna Kujawa is the author of Jerusalem Diary: Searching for the Tomb and House of Jesus, and co-editor of a special issue of Tourism Management Perspectives on "Spiritual Tourism" out in January 2017. This article was published at: http://www.abc.net.au/religion/articles/2016/12/22/4596437.htm

Irrevocable love

 

Since their rejection meant the reconciliation of the world, do you know what their admission will mean? Nothing less than a resurrection from the dead! God never takes back his gifts or revokes his choice.

Romans  11:15, 29

Like most children of the '50s and before, I feared sin and its effect on my immortal soul. I believed that God spied on my every word and deed, kept a record of every venial sin and was unforgiving of my mortal sins (could a child a commit a mortal sin?) until I was absolved by a priest. Let me tell you, this isn't a loving God. It's a God of conditional love, who loves IF: IF you obey his commandments; IF you are faithful; IF you go to church. IF, IF, IF. And less surprising is that this is not the God revealed in Christ Jesus.

You might remember the now 'old' Eucharistic prayer where the institution narrative says Jesus' blood was 'shed for you and for all' and how the new translation now reads: 'poured out for you and for many'. This caused a refreshed debate on universal salvation. That is, salvation that is available to all by virtue of God's infinite mercy.

This is no modernist argument. It has persisted since the second century to the present. The majority Christian opinion has held that salvation is for a select group alone. Jesus' disciples have busily excluded each other from salvation from the very beginning - starting with Samaritans, Gentiles followed quickly by various Trinitarian/Christological heretics, gnostics and a plethora of others, including Americanism (condemned by Leo XIII in 1899).

Despite the Church's history of exclusion, Vatican II's Nostra Aetate acknowledged other world religions affirmingly, acknowledging that certain aspects of these faith traditions “reflect a ray of that Truth which enlightens all people” (NA, 2). It also affirmed that the Church “rejects nothing of what is true and holy in these religions” (NA, 2).

And so, from Matthew (15:21 – 28) we hear the story of the Canaanite woman whose daughter is being tormented by a demon. After being rebuffed by Jesus, she cries out to him that though not of the House of Israel, even the house dogs are able to eat the scraps that fall from the master’s table. Her faith is rewarded and her daughter made well. Jesus welcomed all. Especially outsiders, especially the marginalised. In his letter to the Romans (11:29) God chooses us and neither will he revoke his choice nor abandon us. That is unconditional love. That is divine love.

In our schools we are often privileged to introduce young students to this loving God, no matter their religious, racial, cultural, political or economic status. It is our responsibility to ensure that they have the opportunity to meet and know this wonderful and awesome God, revealed to us perfectly in Jesus.

Peter Douglas

 

Sam Clear: The man who walked around the world returns to Panama to thank a stranger

                                 Sam at 12 years at            Sam in portrait by

                                 St Patrick's College           Polish photographer

By Emilie Ng

IMAGINE a stranger walks through your street, barely able to stand after hiking for 45km. He asks the nearby locals for a place to sleep. They laugh.

Agitated by their amusement, you consider putting him up in your house, but fear this tall white man may not fit in your one-bedroom home with barely four walls.

There’s also the issue that you possess no food, at least no more than what could barely feed your wife and young daughter, whom you are about to leave the next morning to find work in the city 250km away. Do you take him in or watch him walk on by?

Samuel Clear found himself needing a place to sleep when he was stranded in the middle of Panama, a few months into a 15,600-kilometre journey on foot across the world praying for unity among Christians.

In South and Central America he had a few near-death experiences – a shotgun to the head, a face-to-face encounter with a puma, and a few unruly thieves.

But it was Adolfo, a young married man from Panama, who lived squished inside a tin shed with no electricity or running water, who touched Sam the most. Sam had just walked 45km through Panama to find himself in El Higo, where his usual accommodation options of a church or a hotel did not exist.

At a nearby corner store he met Adolfo and his daughter. They offered him a place to hang his hammock and sleep under the twinkling stars that shine over Panama’s rich grasslands. The next day he drank lemongrass tea and ate bread.

Before continuing on his walk, Adolfo shares his own dilemma. He will also be leaving the tin shed, travelling 250km to Panama City to find work, leaving his wife and daughter behind. The young Panamanian reached out for a plush toy – Dino, from The Flinstones, hung a cross around his neck – and handed it over, with the words: “Remember me”.

In 2012, four years after his slumber under the Panamanian stars, Sam books a flight to Central America with one mission – to find Adolfo. The Road to Adolfo is a four-part documentary series following Sam’s search for the humble Good Samaritan who offered him a night’s sleep in 2007.

This time around, Sam doesn’t rely on his own feet to do the searching, but enlists in the help of a Brisbane-based cameraman, a Polish doctor and a rental car.

He has only two items to identify Adolfo – the plush pink Dino and a grainy photograph saved to his laptop – and a rough mental sketch of the jungle trail to his tin house. With broken Spanish at the ready, he embarks on a two-week journey to find one man in Panama and thank him.  Would he be in the same house, with wife and daughter tucked inside? Would he be employed, providing money for his family to eat and live? Would he even be alive?

While the series hinges on the search for Adolfo, the first two episodes actually follow Sam in the neighbouring country Venezuela, where he also walked. He hopes to find others who opened their homes to the strange white man walking around the world (and also the man who held a shot gun to his head), a kind of prelude to his major search.

Sam wants to know why they were so generous, and to thank them for it. He is the real-life leper who, having been healed with nine others, is the only one to go back to Jesus, fall at his feet and thank him.

Revisiting Venezuela brings back unsettling memories for Sam, and a sense that his prayerful walk in 2007 would have been enough to render him mentally insane.

While much of the dangerous, yet beautiful, Venezuelan scenery (which almost gets the crew killed in broad daylight) is unfamiliar to Sam, he immediately recognises the hearts and hospitality of those who offered a bed or floor for the night.

They also remember him – but who wouldn’t remember a giant white man in a country whose president openly condones the murdering of “gringos”? In a country with rampant racism flourishing, this handful of men and women, all of them identifying as “poor but happy”, have distanced themselves from hatred and, instead, chosen love.

Their homes are modest, but their smiles are grand.

Their wallets are empty, but their hearts are full.

They have little food, but are overflowing with faith.

Poverty is the pathway to true joy and mercy, and perhaps why the poorest of them all, Adolfo, opened his home. 

Or did he?

In the course of his search, Sam starts to beg the question – did Adolfo exist, or is he just a figment of Sam’s broken Spanish and need for sleep? Faith, which is what set the leper free, urges him on the search for Adolfo. A Road to Adolfo, then, is not just the search for one man; it is the call to search inside ourselves and open our hearts to the reality of Jesus in the next person you meet. Will you take Him in or watch Him walk on by? 

First published in Catholic Leader on 8 March 2016