Pentecost 5 2004
2 Kings5.1-14, Psalm 30, Galatians 6.7-16, Luke 10.1-11, 16-20.
In the first film of the Lord of the rings trilogy, the Fellowship of the Ring, there’s a scene where Frodo, the hobbit appointed to be the ring bearer, is having a crisis of faith in himself and his ability to carry out the task to which he has been appointed – to destroy the ring of power in the fires of Mount Mordor, and so defeat the dark lord Sauron.
For those of you who don’t know the story, a hobbit is a little person with big hairy feet. They are considered harmless and perhaps inconsequential by others and at times by themselves. Frodo certainly feels this in this scene. The scene is set in the Lothlorien, the home of the Elven Queen, Galadriel, played by Cate Blanchett, looking rather beautiful. She is wise, as an immortal elf queen should be. She says this rather profound statement to the troubled Frodo: “Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."
This scene is something that resonates with me a lot, being a person who has fairly regular crises of inadequacy and a sense of helplessness when considering how to make a difference in the world and in the church. This is especially relevant at the moment, with the events of the past month threatening to destroy our unity, our security and for many people, our faith in the church and perhaps in God. It’s very easy to feel like one is powerless to do something about it. Even before the current crisis, the state of the traditional mainline Christian churches and the decline they seem to be was enough to cause worry. So when I remember this scene from the movie, I am reminded that the powerless can indeed change the world, or at least have a profound effect on it.
Looking at the readings this morning, particularly the Old Testament and the Gospel Readings, we see this in action. In the Old Testament reading, we have this powerful general, Naaman, who has everything – power, wealth, honour, and unfortunately leprosy. The advice that leads to his healing comes from a little person, a slave woman. He goes to the prophet Elisha on her advice, expecting this mere prophet to come out to him in his chariot. Perhaps this is the first example of a drive through service. He is told by a messenger, not even the prophet himself, to wash in the Jordan. The Jordaon is not a big and mighty river compared to the rivers he mentions. When the general Naaman thinks this is not good enough, it is his servant, another of the little people, who convinces him to do it anyway. Needless to say, he is cured. The little people are shown to the wisest. What is more, it is the little people and the little nation of Israel that are shown to be the ones whom God is with, who God works through, who seem to have that special link with God.
In the Gospel reading, we have the sending out of the 70 in pairs ahead of Jesus. In contrast to the general, who goes about with heaps of money and chariots and stuff, the 70 are told to pretty much carry nothing, and to rely only on what they are given at the places to which they go. They are required to be little people, living simply and in trust. And as little people, they are successful. These little people assert that even the demons submit to them, and Jesus tells them their names are written in heaven. I think there are many lessons in this that we could well do to remember at this point in time.
The Anglican Church in Adelaide used to be held in high regard. Whilst here in this country it is not the official national church as such, it is still very much a part of the establishment and the hierarchy of the state. In a society in which respect for authority is highly valued, along with the acceptance of the power of the hierarchy, this created a situation where paedophiles and other predators could operate almost unhindered. Why was this so? Because of the position of power that the church and its officers, particularly its prince-bishops held in society. The church held such a lofty position that to many it was beyond reproach. You just didn’t question the church, it was always correct and proper, as were the priests and bishops and other officers of the church. Many people couldn’t believe that church officals could be abusive or perverted or criminal. Bishops were equivalent to Princes and their powers within and without the church were often very similar and they were not accountable to anyone except God. It wasn’t, and still isn’t, democratic.
Now, to bring about the situation we have now, we have had church leaders over the centuries accepting this power and authority and being seduced by it, as happens in many organisations. The power and position of the church induces the leaders into thinking that they are not accountable, except perhaps to God. The position held by the church and its leaders for some of them becomes even more important than the requirements of the gospel and the mission, or perhaps one is confused for the other, an ecclesiology that considers the existence and good name of the church to be the Gospel. Hence we see the behaviours that try to keep things quiet, limit financial damage and protect the churches good name. Actions which, in the end, did more damage than they prevented. If action had been taken at the time, then many people could have been saved from further abuse by both the perpetrators and the church itself. If Church leaders had listened to Jesus instead of listening to the scribes and the Pharisees many people would be much better off. Perhaps some might still be alive, the ones for whom it was all too much and took their own lives. This attitude within the church has to stop, and I think you will find that this current crisis is the kick in the backside that we as a church really need to get us all into thinking about our mission and our duty of care not just to the children, but to the whole community. We have a responsibility to the world as well as to God that we must now be ready to face.
We have to face the fact that we no longer occupy the high moral ground. Bishop Ian George did a lot of good in his time as Archbishop of Adelaide, especially for “little people”, the forgotten, the dispossessed, but he will be not be remembered for that, at least in the short term. Instead, people now think of him as that Archbishop that was forced to resign because he didn’t deal appropriately with child sexual abuse in the church. His statements about the morality of the treatment of asylum seekers will be lost for now. This is what happens when we forget the gospel. This is what happens when we cease to remember the little people. This is what happens when we forget that we too are called to be little people – little people of God.
Perhaps in the coming years, when the compensation of the victims of abuse is negotiated and paid out, if indeed financial compensation is what is needed, we can again get to a point where we are little people as a church. We will be to a large degree free of the baggage of a church that was just a little too distant from the world at large. We will be free to be a church of the Gospel again, in the way we govern ourselves and in the way we deal with abuse and other issues in the church. Perhaps we will have a more accountable system of Episcopal oversight. We may even be free of concerns of excess property, with the possibility that we may have to sell off some to pay for the compensation claims. But I think that in the end this will be a positive thing, and may actually force us to look again at our core business freed of some of the constraints of managing property that we don’t need. There is something liberating in this. Because then we can return to being the little people, the ones setting off on a mission with only the essentials, without the baggage that slows one down so much, instead of the lumbering juggernaut church we have become. Like a huge ocean going ship, a church with too much excess baggage takes forever to change direction, and will inevitably hit the ice berg. And like an aircraft with too much baggage in its holds, it will never take off.
