SERMON 12 September 2004
Readings:
Exodus
32: 7-14 Psalm 51: 1-10
1 Timothy 1: 1-2, 12-19a
Luke 15: 1-10
In
the name of God, who calls us to life. Amen.
The
bomb crater in the streets of Jakarta. Smiling faces claiming responsibility for
the death of people who had done them no wrong.
The
haunted faces of the children who survived the siege at Beslan. The overwhelming
grief of those who lost children, brothers, sisters, wives and husbands in the
massacre. The tragedy of a town shattered by the loss of so many of its people.
These
are some of the images that have crowded into our homes on TV and in newspapers
over the last few days.
They
come on top of the ever present stories of people whose lives have been
disrupted by war, on top of the wave after wave of pictures of atrocities
committed in refugee camps in Palestine - places people have gone to, looking
for safety. They come on top of the reporting on the terrible situation in Iraq
where so many thousands of people have lost their lives in the last 18 months,
on top of the images of the civil war in the Sudan.
On
the home front we have been hearing the stories of Australians who spent their
early years in institutional care. The recently released Senate Committee Report
called ‘Forgotten Australians’ focusses largely on the middle decades of
last century and reveals a high level of abuse, assault and emotional
deprivation in homes, whether they were run by the State, churches or other
charitable organisations. Certainly, standards of child care were different then
and much that was acceptable in the 1950s would not be seen as acceptable today.
They were harsher times when ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ was a common
maxim. However, much occurred in those homes that would have been viewed with
horror by the society of the time had it become known. The airwaves have been
full of people telling their stories – stories of being locked in dark
cupboards for hour after hour; of only been referred to by number, never by
name; of sexual abuse; of violent beatings. The dark side of our attempts to
care for abandoned children has been on very public display.
Human
sin has terrible consequences. Sin matters. It is not trivial. Violence breeds
violence. Inhumanity breeds inhumanity. Malice breeds malice. We can look at
these stories and dismiss their relevance for us – after all, they are
dislocated from us in time or space. They are happening in other parts of the
world, or they happened 40 years ago, not now. But to do that is, I believe, a
terrible mistake. These are all manifestations of human sinfulness – of the
human failure to love, to be compassionate, to walk in the ways of God. And we
are all guilty of that. Rather than seeing these events as examples of how evil
or how misguided other people are, we can see them as a clarion call to greater
awareness of our own sinfulness and its possible consequences.
Am
I being too harsh? I don’t think so. It is easy for us to condemn terrorists
– but what are the conditions that have given rise to terrorism? Why is so
much of the world’s wealth concentrated among so few people?
There
are many systemic injustices in our world. The development economists tell us
that there is food enough in the world to feed the entire population – why is
it not distributed equitably? Why, in our own society, does there continue to be
outrageous discrimination against gays and lesbians? Why is the average lifespan
of aboriginal Australians about 20 years less than for white Australians? Why
are small children the primary carers for hundreds of families in the ACT?
Even
if none of us here today are directly responsible for any of these injustices,
we are all complicit in them, as in so many others. They are endemic to our
society, flowing as natural consequences from the structures within which we
live. Our societies deliver some good things and they deliver some bad things.
We
all participate in corporate sin as well as in whatever individual sins we may
commit. This is not a trivial matter. A simple message thunders through
today’s readings: sin matters – whether it be the corporate sin of apostasy,
a whole people turning away from God, or individual sin – the lost sheep of
the Gospel reading. We grieve not only each other but also God. Why is there so
much joy when a sinner repents, when a person turns towards God? Because of the
grief that we cause to God when we persist in ungodliness, in behaving
selfishly, violently, greedily, lustfully. We damage other people, ourselves and
God.
As
Christians we live in an odd tension between our capacity to participate in sin,
and the forgiveness, the new life that is offered to us by God. We know that we
are loved, indeed cherished by God. Just as parents love their children, even
when those children are being right royal pains, so God loves us. But we know
too that we are sinners – both individually and as members of sinful human
societies that perpetuate systemic injustices.
As
Christians we have a commitment to identify and act against deep systemic
sinfulness as well as attending to our own spiritual health. As Dom Helder
Camara who worked with the poorest of the poor in South America during the last
century, said, "The hunger of the others condemns the civilisation of the
ones that are not hungry.”
This
is not always easy. Camara also identified the enormous resistance there is to
such systemic change, noting "If I give food to the poor, they call me a
saint. If I ask why the poor have not been eating, they call me a communist.
"
How
can we do these things? It is, after all, hard enough to tackle our individual
sinfulness, let alone the structures of society. We can do a number of things.
Be politically aware – our political system is accountable to the people. If
things are happening at government level that you do not believe are right, make
your views known. We are in an election campaign – tell the candidates from
all the parties what really matters to you.
If
you have spare resources, and not everyone has, indulge in some generosity to
people in need – either here or overseas. As the bumper sticker has it
‘Practise senseless acts of kindness and random acts of beauty’.
Live
simply (says she, in the midst of a chaotic life!). Pray. Ask God to guide you.
Many of us here, perhaps all of us, are already involved in some forms of social
action, working in some way towards a fairer society. May those commitments
continue and flourish and may God open our eyes to the sinfulness that we do not
see, the inequities, the prejudices so deeply hidden we take them for granted.
God
of justice,
open our eyes that we may see,
our ears that we may hear,
our hearts that we may love. Amen.
Sarah
Macneil