Monday, 23 September 2013

Stewards of dishonest wealth

Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church 

22 September 2013 

Luke 16:1-15  Then Jesus said to the disciples, "There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property.  2 So he summoned him and said to him, 'What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.'  3 Then the manager said to himself, 'What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg.  4 I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.'  5 So, summoning his master's debtors one by one, he asked the first, 'How much do you owe my master?'  6 He answered, 'A hundred jugs of olive oil.' He said to him, 'Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.'  7 Then he asked another, 'And how much do you owe?' He replied, 'A hundred containers of wheat.' He said to him, 'Take your bill and make it eighty.'  8 And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.  9 And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.  10 "Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much.  11 If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches?  12 And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own?  13 No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth."  14 The Pharisees, who were lovers of money, heard all this, and they ridiculed him.  15 So he said to them, "You are those who justify yourselves in the sight of others; but God knows your hearts; for what is prized by human beings is an abomination in the sight of God.

Amos 8:4-7   Hear this, you that trample on the needy, and bring to ruin the poor of the land,  5 saying, "When will the new moon be over so that we may sell grain; and the sabbath, so that we may offer wheat for sale? We will make the ephah small and the shekel great, and practice deceit with false balances,  6 buying the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals, and selling the sweepings of the wheat."  7 The LORD has sworn by the pride of Jacob: Surely I will never forget any of their deeds.

A Story – Based on Luke 16:1-15

I was born into a family that loved God.
            In an unbroken line from Abraham to me,
                        my forbears had sought to serve faithfully the Lord who has saved us.

The weight of my Jewish heritage sat on my shoulders like a golden cloak
            – surrounding all that I ever sought to do or be,
            with a glory and a brilliance that guided my very thoughts.

Since early childhood I had learned to love the Law,
            with all its wisdom and grace.
Its commands lit up the path of my own life,
            as I sought to love the Lord my God
                        with all my heart, with all my mind,
                        with all my soul, and with all my strength.

I suppose it was inevitable that I would end up entering the priesthood.
            Ever since I could remember, I had wanted nothing more
                        than to serve the Lord with everything I was;
            and no other occupation seemed to offer the same possibilities as being a priest.

The opportunity to spend my days in full-time service of the Lord,
            being recognised as one of those whose lives
                        were dedicated wholeheartedly to his will,
            was something that I could not afford to turn down.
So it was that when I reached adult-hood, at the age of 12,
            I went on, for further education, to the big synagogue
            in the town near where I grew up.

It was at synagogue school that I learned of the different orders of priesthood,
            and I resolved early on that I was going to be the best.
If I was going to dedicate my life to the Lord,
            then it was going to be done properly.

Not for me some half-hearted service,
            diluted with the day-to-day drudgery of employment.
Not for me some mediocre religion
            which consisted of a life of compromise and hypocrisy.

I was going to serve in my master’s house,
            and I was going to do it the very best that I knew how.
I am sure that you can understand this desire, can’t you?
            After all, what is the point in knowing the one true and living God
            if we then go on to live half our lives as if he didn’t exist?

I was never able to understand how people could profess to follow the Lord,
            yet at the same time live their lives as if they had never heard of him
                        – going about their daily business,
                        while confining God to Saturday worship and holy-days.
            If God exists, as I fervently believe he does,
                        surely he deserves more than this?

I resolved to give him everything!
            He was going to reign supreme in every area of my life
                        - in my behaviour, in my relationships, in everything…
            If I was going to be a priest, I was going to be the best.
                        So I began my training as a Pharisee.

The life of a priest has much to commend it.
            I can think of no other way of living
                        that combines all the elements contained within the priesthood.
            The education is second to none.
                        I was trained to think in ways that I had never imagined possible.
                        I understood the Law of the Lord,
                                    and spent many years learning to apply it to every area of life.
                        I learned how it could be interpreted
                                    to cover just about everything that it is possible for humans to do,
                                    and this became my delight.

To show people how God’s claim on their lives
            could affect every waking hour of their existence.
And to be paid for doing it!
            What more could a man ask for?
I would have done it for free,
            but having no independent resources,
                        I accepted the wages that were due to me,
            in order that I might be free to pursue my calling.

Sometimes I thought I must be the richest man on earth!
            I loved my life, I was free from the burden of financial want,
                        and I was able to devote myself to serving the Lord whom I loved.
            But over and above this, I was entrusted with the great privilege
                        of helping others to serve him also.

Can you not share in my delight?
            God had truly been gracious to me,
                        giving me the means and the opportunity to serve him
                                    and share him with others.
            Would you not also desire to live your life as I have lived mine,
                        un-compromised, devoted, set aside?
            Every area of my existence permeated with the Law of God.

From the moment I awoke to the moment I shut my eyes at night,
            it was my delight to obey and live the law,
                        modelling for others how it can be done.
By my public prayers, by my attire,
            by my clear and eloquent exposition of the scriptures,
            I enabled others to see how pure a life devoted to the Lord can be.

Of course, the demands of public piety can take their toll after a while.
            The exterior does not always match up to the interior.
Sometimes I wondered if I was just a hollow shell,
            projecting the Lord for others,
                        while inside I struggled as they struggled.
But the nature of my calling was to be a focus for the community.
            I was set aside to be strong and faithful
                        where others were weak and faithless.
            My service to God was to be found in my service to others.
So I persisted in my prayers, in my careful dress, in my teaching.
            And still they supported me in it.
            I was truly blessed by the Lord.

I wasn’t the only teacher to be found in Palestine, not by a long way!
            And part of my responsibility was listening to, and debating with,
                        other exponents of scripture.
            Weighing what they said, and applying it for the community that I served.

This was how I first came across Jesus of Nazareth.
            A strange man: compelling, yet disconcerting.
Not trained as a priest at all,
            I believe he spent most of his life as a carpenter,
yet he had a command of scripture that I would have given my right arm for!

As was the case with some teachers,
                        he rarely preached sermons.
            He taught by telling stories.
Many professional teachers found this repellent,
            that someone would reduce the exposition of the law
                        to common story-telling.
Yet I found them interesting.
            A creative way of communicating his message.
So I often used to make the effort to stop by
            and listen to him when he addressed the crowds.
I often found myself wondering if I could make use of his technique
            to enhance my own teaching style.

It was on just such an occasion
            that he told his story about the dishonest steward.
This man had been entrusted with handling his master’s affairs,
            and had eventually been called to account
            for his handling of the wealth he had been trusted with.

Just when it looked as if he about to have the rug pulled out from under him,
            since he had been squandering his master’s property,
            he pulled a solution out of the bag which saved his neck.

Caught in his squandering of his master’s goods,
            the steward retrieved the situation by yet further squandering.
He was truly a shrewd man, this steward,
            because if he had attempted to move wealth in his own direction,
            the master could surely have done something about getting it back.
But the steward did the exact opposite
            – he acted for the benefit of others,
                        thereby ensuring that they owed him a debt of gratitude,
                        which he could then call in when he was out of his job.

A very fine story, I thought.
            The steward had been so shrewd in his handling of his affairs,
                        that even his master had to grudgingly commend him in his cleverness.
Even after the steward had been found out in his crime,
                        with his number clearly up,
            he still found a way to swindle his master yet again right under his nose,
                        and in such away that the master, even though on the spot
                                    and alerted to the steward’s ways,
                        could do nothing to restore the situation.

A clever, realistic story,
            and the application, I thought, was clear:
We are to be worldly-wise in the way we deal with the world’s riches,
            and heavenly-wise in the way we deal with heaven’s riches.
Let us use the wealth of this world
            to further our own higher purposes,
            so that we can be free to follow the Lord’s calling on our lives.

You can see how this story would appeal to me.
            After all, was I not doing just what this Jesus was suggesting?
I was living my life holding heaven in one hand
            and the world in the other.

I was dedicated to the Lord, and committed to serving him,
            and I also had the financial support
                        and consequent freedom which enabled me to do this.
I gratefully received the money that came to me,
            treating it as if it was from the Lord himself,
and I used it so that I could fulfil my calling as priest,
            dedicated to the service of the Lord from whom all riches come.

Not for me the disgrace of digging or begging for my living.
            I used what my master gave me,
            to buy myself the freedom to fulfil my calling.

I liked Jesus’ story,
            with its realistic recognition of the nature of the world
                        in which we find ourselves.
After all, which of us is totally free from dishonest wealth?
            All the money we touch
                        must have at some point passed through dishonest hands.
            Who can ever claim that their bankers have behaved with ethical integrity?
                        We don’t ask them to – they would earn us no interest if they did!
            This Jesus seemed to me to have a very firm grasp on the nature of reality.
                        Use worldly wealth for higher purposes.
                        Purify it by our use of it!

These thoughts were going through my mind
            as I stood mulling over the story he had just told,
and it was then that I noticed him looking at me.

He seemed to be concentrating on me particularly.
            I have to say that I found his slightly knowing smile most disconcerting,
                        and his dark brown eyes bore straight through me.
            It was almost as if he and I were the only people there.

He started to quote proverbs:
            “Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much,
                        whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much”,
            “if you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth,
                        who will trust you with true riches?”,
            “No servant can serve two masters”,
                        “you cannot serve both God and money”.

What had this to do with me!?
            Was he implying that my loyalties were divided?
                        Was he saying that I could not be trusted?
Me! who all my life had sought to be the one who got it right,
            in the midst of a world that was getting it wrong.
Me! who fought against compromise
            and championed integrity.
Me! who prided myself on combining a firm grasp on reality
            with an unswerving love for the Lord.
Me! with my realistic approach
            towards the benefits and rewards of this world.
How dare he?!

I looked back at him, and as I did so I could feel my heart growing angry
            and my gaze growing defiant.
A slow boiling started in the pit of my stomach and rose through me like a fire.

Who did this man think he was?!
            This uneducated carpenter who told stories,
                        this simplistic naïve fool with no grasp on reality!
            What was his point?
                        Why had he told the story of the dishonest steward?
            And why did he keep looking at me?

Why didn’t he turn his gaze to others in the crowd
             – there were many there who were far more compromised than I.
            There were many there who never even attempted to serve God.
And yet here was I, dedicated to the service of the Lord,
            and he was condemning me!

But his words gnawed away at me,
            sapping my self-confidence.
As is often the way with those who appear so sure of themselves,
            uncertainty always lurks not far beneath the surface,
and the expression of his face wasn’t so much one of condemnation
            as it was a look of pity and compassion.

Could it be that I had misunderstood his story?
            Could it be that I had misunderstood something about my own life?
            Could it be that I was wrong about what God was asking of me?

But then the anger returned,
            as I realised that this Jesus seemed to be implying
            that I was hopelessly compromised.

This simpleton without two shekels to rub together
            seemed to be implying that I had sold out.
That I was serving money not God.
            That I was not fit to be trusted with heavenly riches.

But what does it mean to be trustworthy with worldly wealth anyway?
            What was he getting at?
Had I not done as the steward in his story had done?
            And had not the steward been commended?

And then I stopped.
            And a cold sweat started to break out on my forehead
            and ran down my spine like a chill.

I realised that that was not the point of Jesus’ story.

The point this carpenter was making
            was to do, not with human wealth at all,
                        but with eternal riches.

I was using my wealth here and now.
            Living in relative luxury, buying myself my freedom to live now.
Everything about me was focussed on the present.
            And I justified my existence on the basis of my life today.
Believing that all the good things in my life
            were mine by right,
            given to me by God as his response to my faithful service.

But what if, just what if, none of this meant anything to God.
            What if my life today, with its freedom and ease of living,
                        was worthless in God’s sight?

What if God had trusted me with such wealth and privilege for a higher purpose,
            and I had been dedicating my life to simply squandering it on myself,
and then publicly justifying my actions in the sight of others
            by claiming that I was doing God’s will.

That surely would be the worst kind of waste!
            And it would make me the worst kind of hypocrite!

Then, truly I would be like the steward in the story,
            but the steward before master caught up with him.
Using his position to live a life of ease and luxury,
            squandering his master’s wealth on himself.

What if this was where I fitted into Jesus’ story:
            a privileged and wealthy man
                        making the most of my life and my opportunities,
            believing that the master had entrusted all this to me,
                        for me to use as I saw fit.

But what would it do to my life, to the way I lived,
            if the master still wanted me to squander his wealth,
                        but not on myself.
What if the master wanted me to waste his wealth on others?
            What would it look like if I became like the steward
                        after the master had caught up with him?
            What if the Lord wants me to take his wealth,
                        not just my material prosperity, but all the riches of life and eternity,
                        and start giving it away freely to others?

What if the purpose of having
                        is not to have and enjoy,
            but to give away
                        to the benefit of others.

What if the master is more pleased with servants
            who win him friends by generosity and grace,
than he is by those who win him profits
            by protectionist practices.

Is it possible that God could be that rich?
            Is it possible that God could be that generous?

This would certainly be a different kind of God.
            This would be a God who loves and gives, and gives and loves.
A God whose eternal treasure-house is inexhaustible.

Maybe the steward in Jesus’ story was commended
            because he finally realised
                        that by squandering his master’s wealth on others,
                                    he was exchanging it for eternal riches.
            Substituting his here-and-now treasures
                        for assets that endure
            Trading his present luxurious living
                        for a welcome and a home that has everlasting value.

What if that was why Jesus kept looking at me?
            What if the Lord is displeased with the way I have used
                        that which has been entrusted to me?

What if he wants me to squander his wealth on others?

            Is God really that rich?
            Is God really that generous?

Questions for consideration

Is wealth always dishonest?
Who is wealthy?
How would God have us use the money and resources we have?

Monday, 9 September 2013

Review of 'Wisdom, Science and the Scriptures'

An 'in-house' review of Ernest Lucas' festschrift, 'Wisdom, Science and the Scriptures', edited by Stephen Finamore and John Weaver; in which I have a chapter. [click to enlarge].

Sunday, 8 September 2013

What kind of revolution?

Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church 
8th September 2013

Luke 14:25-33  Now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them,  26 "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.  27 Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.  28 For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it?  29 Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him,  30 saying, 'This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.'  31 Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand?  32 If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace.  33 So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

Deuteronomy 30:15-20  See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity.  16 If you obey the commandments of the LORD your God that I am commanding you today, by loving the LORD your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees, and ordinances, then you shall live and become numerous, and the LORD your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to possess.  17 But if your heart turns away and you do not hear, but are led astray to bow down to other gods and serve them,  18 I declare to you today that you shall perish; you shall not live long in the land that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess.  19 I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live,  20 loving the LORD your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the LORD swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.

I suspect that I am not alone in having watched
            the unfolding events in Syria over the last couple of weeks
            with a mixture horror, dread, and fascination.

I think it’s fair to say
            that the situation in the Middle East is not straightforward,
            as a recent letter to the Financial Times demonstrated:

Iran is backing Assad. Gulf states are against Assad!
            Assad is against Muslim Brotherhood.
Muslim Brotherhood and Obama are against General Sisi.
            But Gulf states are pro Sisi!
            Which means they are against Muslim Brotherhood!
Iran is pro Hamas, but Hamas is backing Muslim Brotherhood!
Obama is backing Muslim Brotherhood,
            yet Hamas is against the US!
Gulf states are pro US.
            But Turkey is with Gulf states against Assad;
            yet Turkey is pro Muslim Brotherhood against General Sisi.
            And General Sisi is being backed by the Gulf states!
Welcome to the Middle East and have a nice day.
[Financial Times: 23rd August 2013]

The civil war in Syria has already been running for over two years,
            and it finds its origins within the wider context
            of the Middle Eastern protest movement known as the Arab Spring.

However, it took a dramatic turn for the worse recently
            with the unleashing of chemical weapons
            on the civilian population of Damascus on the 21st August.
The crossing of this so called ‘red line’
            has provoked a number of heavily militarized western countries
            to consider their own response to the escalating crisis.

The recent vote in Westminster ruling out UK military action in Syria
            was merely the precursor to the discussion
                        happening in the United States,
            which goes to a full Senate vote next week.
Many commentators think it is very likely that the US will launch
            what are being described as ‘limited and proportional’ strikes
                        in the near future.

Meanwhile, discussions on Syrian intervention
            have provided an uneasy background
                        to this week’s G20 meeting in Russia.
Putin says that action without UN approval would be "an aggression",
            whilst Obama says that the credibility
            of the international community is on the line.

What to do? How to respond?

The calculations behind a decision to go to war are complex,
            and there are no easy or cost-free answers here.
Part of the issue, it seems to me,
            is what cost, and who pays?

Our lectionary passage for this morning
            contains a short parable told by Jesus
            which may be of relevance to our consideration:

31 what king, going out to wage war against another king,
            will not sit down first and consider
whether he is able with ten thousand
            to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? 
32 If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away,
            he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. 

The question which is haunting me,
            and which I think is a key question for all Christians
                        to ask at such a time as this,
is that of what a response to the terrible events in Syria would look like
            which took the teaching and example of Jesus
            and applied it to the real world of chemical weapons,
                        tactical military intervention, and civil war?

Jesus’ parable about going to war wasn’t offered in the abstract.
            Rather, it’s part of a wider passage
            which contains some of his hardest sayings found in any of the gospels.

26 "Whoever comes to me and does not hate
            father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters,
            yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. 

27 Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.

33 So therefore, none of you can become my disciple
            if you do not give up all your possessions.

A difficult and troubling passage, for difficult and troubling times.

What I hope is that some time spent with this passage this morning
            may help us towards an answer to the questions
            that the situation in Syria raises for us.

The context of Luke 14 is that Jesus is making his way to Jerusalem (13.22),
            travelling from town to village as he journeys south
            from Galilee to the ancient Jewish capital city,
                        currently under occupation by the Romans.

As he travels he draws a band of followers to himself,
            by preaching publicly, and engaging in actions
            that challenge the power of the religious and political status quo.
His sermons make frequent reference
            to something he refers to the ‘kingdom of God’,
                        eighteen times so far in Luke,
                        with another thirteen to go before the gospel reaches its conclusion.
He keeps telling people that the kingdom of God is coming,
            and he invites people to enter into the new life of his new regime.

One way of reading Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem
            would be that he was gathering a revolutionary army,
            readying them to march on the seat of power to overthrow the corrupt regime,
                        and to free the country from the external powers of the foreign empire
                        which was propping up the existing political elite.

Does this sound familiar?
            It’s the age-old story of popular uprising,
            and it’s the same story the world over,
                        from first century Palestine to twenty-first century Syria.
Others had tried it before Jesus,
            and others would try it again afterwards.
The crowd knew what they were getting when a revolutionary preacher
            started gathering followers on his way to Jerusalem:
                        they’d seen it before.
Previous attempts had failed, but maybe the next one would succeed.
            Maybe the Jesus uprising would finally break the power of evil over the land
            and free the people from the yoke of oppression.

The language Jesus uses to call his followers
            is certainly the language of revolution,
            it is the language of holy war.
His call to hatred of family, and life, and possessions
            has echoes in other ancient stories
            of people responding to a call to a new mission
            which required the giving up of all that was previously held dear.

For example, the classical Greek novelist Lucian, ironically a Syrian by birth,
            wrote a story called The Scythian or the Consul
            in which he described two characters named Toxaris and Anacharsis
                        who go off on a mission.
Toxaris is said to have ‘left’ his wife and children;
            while Anacharsis is said to ‘not remember’ his wife or children,
            and is also described as having ‘left all’ behind him.

Similarly, Diogenes Laërtius, the Greek biographer, tells the story of Crates
            who is persuaded by one of the cynic philosophers
                        to turn his property into money and distribute it to the other citizens,
            in order to follow the call to become a philosopher himself (Diogenes Laertius 6.87).

And in the Old Testament,
            the act of leaving money, family, and friends
            is described as an act of preparation for embarking on a holy war.
The holy tribe of Levi
            are said to be those who say of their mother and father
                        ‘I regard them not’ (Deut. 33.8-9),
and to have been ordained for service
            ‘at the cost of a son or a brother’ (Ex. 32.29)

It seems that when Jesus went through the towns and villages of Israel,
            recruiting for his new movement,
he did so in the style of a leader calling people to a mission
            from which they might not return,
a mission which required them to relinquish their attachments
            to their families and their possessions.

His use of the word ‘hate’ here
            is a deliberate overstatement to emphasise the seriousness of the cost
                        that following him will entail (cf. Prov. 13.24).
This isn’t hatred in the sense of the teenager who screams ‘I hate you’ at his parents,
            and neither is it hatred in the sense that I hate Marmite.

Rather, like the man in the story just a few verses earlier in Luke’s gospel
             – the man who excuses himself from the banquet of the kingdom of God
                        because he has just taken a new wife –
            Jesus is asking those who respond to his call
                        to be prepared to place their commitment to his kingdom
                        ahead of all other calls on their allegiance.

So far, so much a recruitment campaign!
            It all rather sounds like preparing a revolutionary army to embark on a holy war.
But it turns out that Jesus isn’t your usual run-of-the-mill revolutionary.
            It may be that he was gathering people for a battle,
            but it certainly wasn’t the war that most people were expecting.

Jesus tells his followers
            not only that they must be prepared to give up family ties and possessions,
            but also that they must be prepared to ‘carry the cross’.

These days, the phrase ‘carrying one’s cross’
            has entered into popular language
            to describe difficulties that we just have to learn to live with.
So, someone with a long term illness might say,
            ‘it’s just a cross I have to bear’.
But in Jesus’ day the image had a far more gruesome and graphic connotation
            – the person carrying a cross was a person on their way to crucifixion.
            They were on their way to suffering and death.

It seems that the revolution for which Jesus is recruiting
            isn’t going to be a revolution that ends with a glorious death-or-victory charge
                        on the capital city to overthrow the powers that be,
            but rather a revolution that ends in suffering and certain death
                        on the part of the revolutionaries.

This is why Jesus offers his parables
            about the man preparing to build a tower,
            and a king preparing to go to war.
At a surface level, they speak of the importance
            of knowing what you’re getting into before you jump;
            of the necessity of weighing the cost before you commit.

But they also offer a deeper meaning
            which is relevant to our question for this morning.
Because both parables are themselves military images.

People built towers as defensive structures.
            They were built to protect land, such as a vineyard,
            and to make a powerful and public statement
                        of the strength and might of the landowner and the tower builder.
Towers weren’t built by ordinary people,
            they were built by the wealthy and the powerful to protect their privilege.
From the tower of Babel onwards,
            towers had been symbols of empire,
            un-missable and inescapable, dominating the people.
Some have suggested that the tower may also be a reference
            to Herod the Great’s rebuilding project at the Jerusalem Temple,
                        which was still being worked on in Jesus’ time,
            becoming a compelling symbol of the Jewish state,
                        such that the Romans eventually felt the need to destroy it totally,
                        in order to suppress the Jewish nationalism
                        that threatened their own power over the region (cf. 13.35).

Similarly, the king preparing to go for war
            is another inescapable image of violence.
To defend territory from an aggressor,
            or to take territory from another,
            is the stuff of which empires are made.
And the calculation as to whether to enter combat or sue for peace,
            is a calculation based on human lives and human deaths.
Before a ruler commits to ‘boots on the ground’
            they need to be assured that this isn’t their Vietnam;
They need to know that they can kill more than they will lose,
            or else the battle is best avoided.

And this is the logic of battle, it is the logic of violence,
            it is the logic of kill or be killed,
            it is the logic of ‘them or us’,
It is the logic that demands action,
            it is the logic that cannot let wrong go unpunished.
            it is the logic that leads to targeted and proportionate responses.

And I want to suggest that however compelling this logic may seem,
            however ancient it may be,
it is a false logic, because it is based on a false assumption,
            on a false dichotomy.

It is the dichotomy that people who choose violence
            will always offer to justify their actions.
And it is the dichotomy that is always presented to discredit
            those who have made a commitment
            to attempting to live nonviolently in a violent world.

The false dichotomy is this, and it is very seductive:
            Do something, or do nothing.
            Either act, or don’t.
            Be courageous, or be a coward.

A terrible wrong has been committed,
            or is about to be committed.
What are you going to do?
            How are you going to respond?

The false dichotomy of violence
            whispers, speaks, shouts and screams it’s options to us:
            DO SOMETHING! Or do nothing!

I want to suggest that this dichotomy is false
            because it denies the third way.
The alternative to ‘doing something’,
            by which is meant, ‘doing something’ violent,
isn’t actually just ‘doing nothing’.

The way of Jesus is the third way,
            he was neither passively inactive,
            but nor was he violently interventionist.
Rather, he was non-violently energetic.

Jesus didn’t sit in Galilee healing the sick,
                        hugging lepers, and preaching nice sermons.
            Rather, his commitment to human wholeness,
                        and his outrage at the powers of evil at work in his world and his land,
            led him to embark on a mission to break the powers of oppression
                        that saw him enter the seat of power
                        and take decisive action to expose, oppose, depose
                                    the root cause of the evil system.

But he did not do so by gathering an army and swords,
            and entering the battle on the enemy’s terms.
Fighting violence with violence is not the Jesus-way to win the war.

Rather, the third way of Jesus,
            the way out of the false dichotomy of ‘do something violent, or do nothing’,
is to take action to unmask the vicious narratives that dominate the world,
            by showing, often at great personal cost,
            that there is another way of being human.

Jesus goes to the cross as an innocent victim of the violent regime,
            to hold to account all those who believe that the regime is right.
Those who call for the death of Jesus are not just the evil dictators of the world,
            they are the righteous and the religious,
            they are the sanctimonious and the sanctified,
            they are the ordinary and extraordinary,
            they are you, and they are me.
And the reason they, the reason we, participate so willingly in the violence of our world
            is that we too have bought into the false dichotomy
            that violent action is the only alternative available to right-thinking people.

A terrible wrong has happened in Syria,
            and it will happen again unless someone does something.
The narrative of the world says that that someone is us,
            and that the something we should do is to meet violence with violence.
Proportionate, targeted violence, perhaps,
            but still we must act.
But if we act, there will be collateral damage,
            and innocent people will be killed by Western weapons.
There always are when bombs are dropped.
            And then how does that make us any different
            from those who unleashed Sarin in Damascus?

A regime that can torture and kill an innocent man with impunity,
            will do the same to innocent women and innocent children.
And the evil multiplies.

Jesus holds us all to account,
            and presents us with a dichotomy of his own:
Are we on the side of violence, or are we on the side of peace?

But here is the challenge:
            If we declare that we are on the side of peace, this is not a cost-free choice.
To choose peace is to choose the kingdom of God
            and it is to put the way of peace ahead of our families, our possessions,
            our security, and even our own lives.

Will you still choose peace when they come for your family?
Will you still choose peace when they come for your possessions?
Will you still choose peace when they come for you?

This is the challenge of Jesus.

But the peace he invites us to choose isn’t passivity.
            It isn’t sitting tight and hoping others will keep the bad men from the door.
It isn’t the preaching of love and peace and hugs to all
            from the security of our living rooms or our church sanctuaries.

It is a peace that demands that we get involved.
            It is a peace that is active in the world,
                        exposing the lies of the narratives of violence
            and pointing to a different way of being human.

It is the peace of non-violent resistance.
            It is the peace of Desmond Tutu and Martin Luther King.

It is the peace that cries out in anger and horror
            at the hypocrisy of a situation where the Government votes
                        against military action in Syria
            and then two weeks later welcomes the arms dealers of the world
                        to the DSEi Arms Fair
                        held at the Excel Centre in East London this week,
            including those who supply weapons to Assad.

It is the peace that calls the world to
            “do everything possible to starve the fire of war
            rather than feeding it with further deadly armaments” (Rev Dr Olav Fykse Tveit)

There is a choice here, and it is a choice we have to make.
            Will we choose to heed the narratives of violence
                        and so take the action that such narratives demand of us.
            Or will we choose a different narrative?
                        Will we choose the narrative of peace,
                                    the narrative of Life.

The character Renton, in Danny Boyle’s film Trainspotting,
            memorably paraphrased this morning’s reading from Deuteronomy:
            ‘Choose Life’, he said, before telling us that he chose not to choose life

Or as the Deuteronomist put it:

19 I call heaven and earth to witness against you today
            that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses.
Choose life
            so that you and your descendants may live

As Jesus said in John’s gospel,
            John 10:10   I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

If we choose life, and choose the life that Jesus offers,
            then we choose not to choose death.

We choose to live by the narrative of peace,
            the narrative of non-violence,
            the narrative of the third way.

And I cannot say where this choice of life will take each of us.

For some of us it may take us to our knees in prayer,
            for some of us it may take us to the protests at the Excel centre next week,
            for some of us it may take us to war zones to be with those who suffer,
            for some of us it may take us to the ballot box with a renewed agenda for change.
            for some of us it may take us to our desks to write and campaign for peace.
            for some of us it may take us to parliament or Whitehall or local government,
            for some of us it may take us to our places of work or to our homes
                        to witness to our friends and family of a different narrative to live by,
                        of a different way of being human.

But when we choose life, we choose peace.
            and it is not the peace of inaction or passivity;


It is the peace that takes subversive and dangerous action
            to bring together those who will not talk,
                        so that each sees the humanity of the other
            in the conviction that out of their shared being
                        negotiated settlements may emerge.
It is the peace that talks to murderers,
            and embraces the perpetrators of genocide.

It is the peace that calls on governments to commit funds to aid,
            rather than funding the production and use of weapons.
It is the peace which enters into the suffering of 2 million displaced Syrian refugees,
                        including more than 1 million children,
            to expose the violence of the regime against the innocent,
                        and to point to a different way of being human
            which commits time and resources to the other
                        in defiance of those who would see the other diminish.

It is the peace which joins its voice with the representatives of
            the United Reformed Church (URC),
            the Methodist Church in Britain
            and the Baptist Union of Great Britain (BUGB)
who have said:

            “We are thankful that our MPs carefully considered the difficult matter
                        of military intervention in Syria – and decided to reject it."
            "Our prayers now are that all diplomatic means are used
                        to bring government and opposition leaders to the negotiating table
                                    and that divided parties are encouraged
                                    to seek a future they can inhabit together.
            "We urge that priority is given to a quick and effective humanitarian response
                        to the thousands of Syrian people affected by the violence.”

Signed by the Rev Roberta Rominger, General Secretary of the United Reformed Church,
the Rev Ruth Gee, President of the Methodist Conference,
and the Rev Stephen Keyworth, Faith and Society Team Leader at the Baptist Union of Great Britain.

The path of Christ is the path of the third way.
            We cannot be inactive.
            We will not be violent.
            We hear the call of the one who offers himself for the salvation of the world,
                        and invites us to take up our own cross and follow him.
And our conviction is that just as Christ’s death
                        was followed by the new life of resurrection,
            so the only hope for the resurrection of our world
                        lies in the difficult and costly path of Christ
            who calls each human being to turn from violence,
                        and to enter into the new way of being human
                        that is the dawning of the kingdom God on earth.