Looking at a Tragedy From Afar

Watching the events of the Christchurch Shooting from afar, my perspective this time has been different from other disasters like this. When I hear of events overseas, I’ve been saddened but somewhat detached. Even after hearing about the Port Arthur tragedy and the events of Martin Place, they didn’t seem to be too close to home for me. But this has been different, even though it’s taken place overseas. This somehow feels as though my home has been attacked. I suspect it’s because I’ve just returned from New Zealand, and although I never visited Christchurch, the New Zealand I visited felt a lot like home. There’s also the fact it was perpetrated by an Australian, someone I could have sat next to in a bus or a plane. It’s also a horror that has occurred when people were engaged in worship. As a leader of a faith community myself, and one who has been a regular worshipper since before I could walk, the idea of being attacked at such a time of peace and openness is chilling.

                I also find it a hideous thought that someone should be killed purely because they were born into a particular culture or racial group. We are all born into a culture, we all are born with a race and none of us has any choice about which one we find ourselves within. With such randomness seemingly at play, how can a person be punished for being who they are? Race seems to have developed purely for humans to survive in whatever environment they have lived for long periods of time and culture is always shifting to embrace new situations and environments. As a white Christian, I know that in some parts of the world I would be viewed with suspicion and a symbol of foreign imperialism. In other parts, I’d be a symbol of wealth and foreign prosperity. These are all stereotypes others may apply to me. And I would be wrong to be killed because of them. As an individual I know I pose no threat to anyone, for I choose to see others as humans just like me, individuals living in the culture and the skin into which they were born. I still struggle seeing past stereotypes at times, but I know that this is what they are and not who my fellow human beings are. Most people are largely good, some people badly damaged, and some people are driven by evil intent. From experience, the scales predominately tip towards the good, and even in those of the latter, I’ve seen glimmers of hope. That people should die because of fears driven by stereotypes and situations in which they have played no part, is heartbreaking.

                I remember in my teen years a time when things seemed to shift in the public discussions about migration. I’d grown up in the seventies and eighties and had gone to school with and lived near people from different racial and cultural backgrounds. There were racist elements back then but generally, we all got on regardless of one’s ethnicity. Then things began to shift in our national politics. As is always inevitable, our country and culture were changing. The world felt as if it was growing smaller. Discussion over immigration and multiculturalism seemed to be at the forefront of debate. It started at the peripheries and quickly moved to the focus of debate. Fringe talk became a central discussion. Where one was from, what religion and what culture became political hotcakes. After 9/11 things got even worse. Boat people became bad, the yellow peril morphed into the Muslim threat and seeking asylum became a nominally criminal act. Migrant communities became the bogeymen of the nation and were dragged out for discussion whenever the political numbers or the price of energy looked bad. Once the spectre of the same-sex marriage debate was put to rest, climate change and migration seemed to be all that was left. And then the Christchurch terror attack occurred, and we are all left wondering why this shared tragedy happened. We instinctively know that this is the ultimate outcome of the demonization of a group of people. But it is politically expedient and doesn’t necessarily refer to the ‘good ones’ within those communities. It’s not long before they are viewed as a scourge and a problem to be dealt with. We like to think that we were involved in a nuanced debate, but nuance becomes lost when people’s fears are engaged. In the irrational thinking of the arachnophobe, there are no harmless spiders. They all must be dealt with. And now in the wash-up, we are scrambling to distance ourselves from what’s been said and done and to ostracize those who continue to join in wholeheartedly. In Matthew 5: 21-22 Jesus said ‘21 “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ 22 But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire (NRSV).’ Here Jesus makes the connection between unjust anger and slander, the assassination of a person’s character and the extreme outcome of it, the act of murder. The root of one lies in the other. Words are powerful things and hateful ideas are dangerous. Our politics and rhetoric have slandered a whole group of people. We’ve accused them of the crimes of others, treated them as outsiders, and accused them of not doing enough to prove our stories wrong. And we’ve done so in the name of the greater good. Sadly, for the people of Christchurch, they’ve reaped what we’ve sown. Let us, our politics and our cultural discussions work hard to sow better fruits in the future, lest we see another Christchurch.

My (Belated) Christmas Message

Almost every culture has a belief that they are not alone in the universe. I’d argue that many atheists have a certain sense of wonder at the scope and expanse of the universe, as well as a belief that there is more life out there than just us down here. Stories of God’s and heroes fill many books and oral tales through the ages but something that is important to the followers of Christ is the strong sense of history. Jesus isn’t merely a divine figure that lives in some mystical time before history, whose adventures and dealings with other God's and monsters are told to explain the world in which we live. Jesus was a flesh and blood figure who walked the dusty roads of 1^st century Palestine and who's blood relations still walk the earth today. And we find the importance of the when, where and when of Jesus in the first chapter of Luke's gospel, within the Christmas story.

The When: Circa 6 BC

Luke’s gospel makes it clear that Christ’s entrance into our world happened at a point in time when things were changing.

Augustus Caesar, nephew and adopted son of Julius Caesar had just become the first Emperor of Rome and he was beginning to take stock of his empire. Censuses were going on around the empire and Rome's power was on the rise. Even the King of Judah, King Herod the Great, ruled the country on behalf of the Roman Empire. He was not descended from the great King David but came from a line of rulers that had taken control...

The setting Luke gives us is a bit like saying ‘In the days of JFK there was a great space race and Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. The Quirinius mentioned was governor a decade after the birth of Jesus and his census was well recorded in history. The events that lead to Jesus’ family heading to Bethlehem must have been a part of what would be remembered as the census that Quirinius finalised many years later. Archaeology may yet turn up more information.

Jesus entered history at a time when Rome ruled supreme and even probed the lives of individuals living in far off Judah. God’s chosen people, were intended to be ruled over by the right hand of their God Jehovah, King David and his descendants. Instead, they were under the rule of a half Jewish puppet King and an empire that sought to count and catalogue them for its own purposes. God's people were at a low place, a small province, under the dominion of a growing superpower.

The Where: Bethlehem, Judah

The Gospel of Luke also tells us where Jesus was born. Bethlehem. Because of the census, Joseph had to return to his home town of Bethlehem. Bethlehem was a tiny town in the days of Jesus, famous for being the birthplace of King David and the burial place of Rachel the wife of Jacob. It was also famous as the place where the Messiah would be born. The prophet Micah said’ But you o Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days…and he shall be the one of peace.'. The birthplace of King David would also be the birthplace of the great king to come, the ancient one, the one of peace.

The next where is the place of the birth. Traditionally presented as a stable of an inn, it is thought that at the time of Jesus’ birth, Bethlehem was too small to have had an inn. The word translated as inn can also mean living space. Houses in this time often kept the animals on the lower floors of the home, with the upper areas for living and sleeping. Sometimes these houses would be built over caves, giving the animals greater space to move. Here we can imagine a busy house, full of family visiting for the census. When a baby is suddenly born, the stable area is the most appropriate place for the delivery to take place, with feed trough acting as a makeshift crib. This scene of a newborn baby wrapped up and placed in a feed trough becomes the sign the shepherds are required to look for.

The Who: The Son of the Unseen God.

The who is the greatest part of the story. On the face of it, the baby is the child of a builder and his wife from Nazareth. They've come to town for the census just as the child was due. They had no choice but as law-abiding citizens, they were doing the right thing. But, they were fulfilling the ancient prophecy.

‘But you O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days…and he shall be the one of peace.’ The baby was a descendant of King David, one of Israel’s greatest kings and one whose families reign was said to be eternal. He was born in David’s home town of Bethlehem and God had made it clear to his parents, and relatives, prophets, shepherds, wise men and angels that he was the promised king that had been foretold. But this child was more than just an earthly king. The Davidic Kings had sat on the throne as God's right hand, his representative on earth. They were called his sons (Psalm 2: 7) and were given royal titles like 'Wonderful, Counsellor, Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9: 6).' They were called Messiahs or ‘anointed ones’ because God had anointed them to rule over his people. But this child was something more. All the promises of the kings were to be fulfilled in this Son of David. Not merely another earthly King, this child of David was something more, he was the unseen God in human flesh. He was the fulfilment of all that the ancient kings pointed to and his kingdom was a heavenly one and not of earth. Just as the swaddling bands wrapped his newborn body that had left the darkness of the womb, the very words of God had left the unseen world of God the Father and were wrapped in flesh and blood. God was now amongst us. God had come to bring us peace with him and each other.