Each story, 9/11 and the unforgiving slave, is a blend of the personal and the impersonal; real, feeling human beings colliding with a social system and “powers that be.” The powers treat individual humanity and dignity with little respect, or none at all. Justice is arbitrary, perhaps not even present. The roll of dice echo in the background; mindless probability and chance are also tumbling around the players. On another day, outcomes may have been different.
In the first story we see the little person who is without hope. The slave, not servant, owes an impossible amount of money. By any calculation, the point of the sum is that he cannot pay it back. It is, and always will be, beyond his capacity. The system decides it will make the best of a bad investment, sell him off, with his family, get back a couple of cents in the dollar maybe, and then get on with life.... Read on >>>>
I am damaged goods. I don’t mean the shonky knees and the crook back. I mean 12 years of school where, whatever the objective facts, what I remember and have ingrained in me, is a profound sense of exclusion and alienation. To be on the outside, and to be excluded; treated as a tax collector and a gentile, causes grievous injury. It scars us. It marks us for life, and habituates unhealthy responses which take a lifetime to manage and begin to overcome.
My salvation was my parents, and the church. At the church, simply by its acceptance and fellowship, I was put back together each week. Being allowed to belong, and pick up the hymnbooks after church, saved me... Read on >>>>
Julie Clawson at onehandclapping:
Earlier this summer I attended a church service where the pastor, a man struggling with what appears to be his final bout with cancer, preached about the hope that Jesus promises to those who trust in him. After describing the returning Jesus brandishing a sword and dripping with the blood of all our vanquished enemies, he invited the audience to share what they saw as the hope that this Jesus promises. The responses ranged from no cancer, to no pain, to no worries about paying the bills, to the promise of an upgraded body – all of course in heaven someday after we die. The congregation was encouraged to find contentment in the present from the possibility of realizing these promises someday. Our souls are what matter; the body just has to endure until our souls reach heaven. No mention of help with how to pay this month’s rent or what it means for a cancer-ridden body to be the temple of the Holy Spirit, just the spiritual promise that someday all will be well.... Read on >>>>
I decided I would be a conscientious objector. The Vietnam War was simply wrong at every level. I never had to make a stand because of the change in government in Australia, and our withdrawal from the war. Two of my friends, a few years older, had to go through the process. One was granted status as a conscientious objector. The other was gaoled. There is something terribly unfair about all this; a roll of the dice based on a birthday, and the prejudices of a tribunal.
Jesus says nothing about fairness. He simply says “...those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25) ... Read on >>>>
The verses set for next week act as an enormous corrective to any misplaced pride and glory we may feel as a church. Matthew is sketching out a critical balance of power and authority which will not be properly appreciated without the later verses... Read on >>>>
Plugging up the Hills’ Face on my bike tonight, I saw a small mob of sheep being chased by black and white. Despite the undergrowth interrupting my view, it was fairly obvious that a Border Collie was out exercising the sheep, which is a serious issue. I began calculating which was the most likely small holding to be the sheep’s owner, so I could alert them to the situation. Too much attention from the Collie could lead to the sheep dying from exhaustion, or even being savaged.
As I cleared a patch of roadside trees, and came closer, I realised I was completely wrong. That black and white flash I had seen through the wattles and weeds was no dog; it was a Billie Goat.
Billie was trotting back across the paddock to his castle, which is a high patch of dirt that seems to have once upon a time been an embankment for a trail bike track. He had been removing the sheep from a second embankment at another end of the old track.
It seems that the sheep are not allowed in the high places in this paddock. They belong to King Billie.
Unfortunately for King Billie, the old trail bike track was triangular. As he returned to his favourite high point, the home castle, at the top end of the paddock, a group of the sheep purposefully climbed up on the third embankment, turned around, and stood looking at him. The challenge was unmistakable. I realised that it is not the sheep who are being harassed, but the goat! Archive
Bishop Pierre Whalon: Propping up my own sense of self-importance as an invisible big kahuna speaker, I'd like to tell why I am not an atheist. I have already addressed some of the features of what I call "atheism lite versus Christianity lite." This concerns many people's claims against Christianity, which are in fact negations of heresies. Too many atheists seem to function with a pubescent version of Christianity.
On the other hand, speaking of "lite," I must admit that some Christians really embarrass me.... Read on >>>>
I remember my shock as a teenager, when the minister’s wife snapped at him. I was horrified. How could she? Worse was to follow; he was unmistakeably cross back at her.
My heroes turned into ordinary people. They were really human. I had been projecting something else onto them.
I love this reading in Matthew, because here, at last, Jesus is fully human.
There is so much making of Jesus into a God who walked on earth, a God who is above anything I could ever be. He becomes a god-man who could never have been real, and an impossible act to follow.... Read on >>>>
This site is about celebrating life. My own life is too busy; my work is almost designed to keep me from reflection and enjoyment. In the busyness and competition of life, it is hard, especially for men, to be honest about fears and feelings. All this works against celebrating and enjoying life except in a most shallow fashion. So here, I seek to be unbusy.
One Man's Web has grown haphazardly, reflecting the interests of friends and myself. You will find abandoned blind alleys, ideas we no longer adhere to, things we never believed but "hung out there" to see what would happen. There are areas where I am remain passionate, but can't keep up; the area on Australia's refugees is one.
If you find some enjoyment or challenge here, I am glad. Celebrate life!