As western society, in a few places, begins to admit (and hopefully address) some aspects of our own male violence and abuse, will we learn to recover old, and create new, stories and images of what matters?   Among other aspects of the Songlines exhibition in Canberra, this came home to me again strongly as I was once more struck by the power of the female in ancient storytelling.  The powerful moral and cosmological (Seven) Sisters stories for example are told in many ways in different places, including with strong resonances outside Australia (from where the number seven among the sisters may partly have arisen).  In the west of Australia the sisters are thus called Minyipuru.  As they travel east however, out of Marlu country into the lands of the Ngaanyatjarra and the Pitjantjatjara and Yankunytjatjarra, they become known as Kungkarrangkalpa and Kungkarangkalpa.   The details profoundly matter of course, yet they also share so many common themes, not least those of women's survival, resilience and ingenuity in the face of male threat.  For the sisters' journeys include pursuit by a male, also known in different places by different names.   This man, to try to realise his lust and love, is a shape-shifter.  So the story is partly a colourful battle of wits between the male and females, involving all kinds of subterfuges, adventures, and stratagems. Told as they have been for tens of thousands of years, these richly layered stories thus enable both men, and especially young women, to come to terms with our human needs and struggles: sharing a realistic portrayal of the interplay of desire and exploitation, power relationships and flexibility of action.  Women are not idealised but their capabilities, and their weaknesses, are no longer buried. They, together with men, become active participants in their moral choices and aware nurturers of one another. As the Aboriginal women of the Songlines exhibition put it, in relation to the painting of Yaritji Young of Tjala Arts (above):

We are all kangaru pulka: big sisters to the young women. Like in the Seven Sisters story we must teach and protect our young sisters

This is so much more powerful when the story and its morality is enacted in so many different ways.  For, as Tjunkara Ken, Yaritiji Young's sister, has said:

I hold my father's story. I hold my mothers' story... (it) doesn't come out of paper or out of a book.  It's coming out of the ground here.  (My way) is different.  It comes from the inside out.

How will each of us make female dignity a grounded matter of 'inside out'?  Such stories also of course have resonance in western traditions, not least in the Bible, where similar comparisons might be drawn to tricksters like Jacob and powerful women such as Deborah and Judith.  Indeed, like any living and enduring spiritual stream, despite its deeply patriarchal traditional limitations, Christianity also has its own share of female stories of wisdom, resilience and empowerment. How often however do we hear, sing, dance and embody them, and create new ones?  As, so painfully slowly, we come to terms with the damaged feminine in our culture - and above all with the brutal realities and 'hidden' denied abuse of so many women's lives - it is surely time, further prompted by the sisters and the ancient wisdom of the Songlines, to tell and live them.

One of the most misleading sayings in some Christian quarters is that Jesus was born to die.  Indeed, so concerned are some to talk about Jesus’ death that they would really like us to put a cross in the nativity scene!  Now, of course, the meaning Christians find in the death of Jesus is certainly very important.  That is part of why the Easter story is central to Christian Faith.  Yet even Good Friday is not ultimately about death.  For, as the Bible Society’s lively 2009 campaign expressed it, Jesus. All About Life is the true reality.  As Jesus says in John’s Gospel (10.10): ‘I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full’.  Death is a part of life and life involves a series of little deaths (losses and griefs) as well as physical death.  So Jesus showed us how dying well can be done.  Yet this was in service of life, which is the real purpose and invitation of God’s creation of us.  For God wants us to live!  Christmas, the feast of the birth of Jesus, is therefore not merely a beginning and prelude to Easter.  It also witnesses powerfully, in its own right, to the heart of the Christian message.  In God in Jesus Christ, we find our fullest life, which is eternal love, right here, right now, and for evermore...

This year we will again be delighted to share in our parish the beautiful Advent booklet Prepare: An Advent Reflection (downloadable for free here) which is produced by Anglican Overseas Aid– find out more about its work here. 

The focus on the traditional Advent themes of hope, love, joy and peace is reflected in the work of bodies such as Anglican Overseas Aid in Christian work with our sisters and brothers and partners overseas.  Our shared aspiration is that poor communities experience these themes of Advent in their daily lives.  The reflections, drawn considerably from Anglican partners overseas, also help us however to understand the Good News of Jesus Christ more fully.  The following reflection, from Melanesia, is just one example to help us grow, rejoice and share more deeply in God’s love for us all…

One of the interesting features of criticism raised by some to aspects of 'progressive orthodox' Christian faith is the perceived relationship between love, God and Judaeo-Christian scripture.  Progressives can certainly be guilty of simplistic and sentimental thinking, including syllogistic fallacies around such themes.  Yet it appears to me that conservative theology sometimes runs the risk of driving a wedge between the God of scripture and healthy, life-giving, human love.  In a recent local marriage equality discussion for example, it was somewhat extraordinary to hear a vigorous opponent assert a radical difference between God and human love.  In responding to a particular interpretation of 1 John 4.16b - 'God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them' - they were right in drawing attention to the wider context of that verse, including the prevenient nature of God's love and primary focus in Christ.  However such divine love was precisely embodied in the very human life and love of Jesus, expressing the presence of such love throughout creation, in all kinds of different ways.  Part of the religious genius of historic Christian Faith has been the ability to hold these different elements in tension, understanding the creative paradox of i John 4.12 that 'No one has ever seen God;  (yet) if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.'   Both love, and sin, in my view, are far more complex and mysterious than many 'plain Christian' theologies allow for. 

Perhaps part of the contrasting responses of Christians lies in how holy scripture is itself conceived.  One young man for example said to me recently that the Bible and Christian Faith were not really about love but about salvation. He is on a genuine journey of exploration into these matters and we had a cordial and mutually illuminating conversation.  Yet such a view reflects a very common but restricted framework which some Christians have imposed, and continue to impose, on the Bible.  In reality of course such a lively and diverse set of scriptures have many contrasting themes.  Salvation is a vital, and perhaps particularly distinctive Christian, one.  Surely however salvation is but one way of approaching love, rather than the reverse?  For all its misuse over the centuries, what has always 'saved' holy scripture is the longing for, and experience of, God which human beings have found in it.  Rather than being the Procrustean structure of a salvation machine, the Bible is witness to the eternal love story of God, humanity and creation, embodied, for Christians, most fully in Jesus Christ.

'When someone starts talking about principles, watch your back!'  This was one of many 'bon mots' I learned from Geoff Garner, my delightful supervising vicar when I was a curate in the East End of London.  Partly what he was saying was that when human beings become agitated, for or against a controversial proposal, humanity  and genuine love go out the window.  So called 'principles' and 'values' become used as weapons: at best providing insulation from genuine engagement, or, often, simply being used to harm others.  Geoff himself knew well to his cost how this worked.  As a founding member of LGCM (originally the Gay Christian Movement), as an inter-faith adviser to the Bishop of London, and in the open and humane way he ministered with others, he was frequently a target of others' internal difficulties and defensiveness.  For Geoff, and for me, this is far from how Jesus lived, taught and acted.

Last weekend I spoke at the Toowoomba Marriage Equality event, sharing my own, positive, perspectives on what is too often an area of Christian 'principled' resistance and denial (click here for my address on that occasion).  At the meeting, I was once more struck by the qualities of love, joy, and kindness so many LGBTI+ people have for one another and others.  Since then, I have once more been overwhelmed by the generosity and warmth of fellow marriage equality supporters with whom I have corresponded.  This, I believe, reflects the immense wellspring of love within the LGBTI+ community which still longs for full release.  It is a powerful contrast with the spirit of some Christian circles which persist in turning their backs on this wonderful source of renewal for us all.

Most certainly, there is also Christian discomfort about marriage equality which is neither bigoted nor defensively armed with principles.  One of my close Anglican colleagues for example is wary of marriage equality legislation because they feel some advocates are themselves equipped with principles (such as exaggerated 'rights' discourses) which they can wield like aggressive weapons.  Perhaps, but I saw none of this last weekend in the keynote addresses of Marriage Equality leaders such as Shelley Argent and Rodney Croome.  Instead they spoke with humour and humility about those things which touch all our lives: love and family, pain and joy, being valued, recognition and relationships.  These are not abstract principles but the realities of life which bind us together.

One Christian leader who has upbraided me since last weekend accuses me, among other things, of being infected by humanism.  It is one accusation - unlike many others - which, with qualifications, I am happy to own.  For a healthy Christian humanism is surely an antidote to picking up the weapons of principle.  Like my mentor Geoff Garner, I see in Jesus the embodiment of the humane as well as the the holy, someone who stood not on principle but in the power of love: in that sense being both fully human as well as fully revealing of the mystery of divine love which transcends all our human differences (male and female, Jew and Gentile, and all the rest - including queer and straight).   

Julia Baird, in a recent article, reflects, in a typically incisive and balanced manner, on the challenges of discerning what is 'free' speech and what is 'hate' speech in the marriage equality debate.  My sense is that part of the answer is in returning with prayerful discernment to the Christian injunction about 'speaking the truth in love' (Ephesians 4.15).  Too often this can mean Christian justification for simply being mean, aggressive, demeaning, or worse.  When I hear or read the words 'I just want to say this to you in Christian love', I am also instinctively tempted to duck for cover, just like Geoff Garner.  It is hardly that I do not care about truth and truth-speaking.  Part of my problem is that parts of the Church do not really want to explore truth and sometimes actively seek to silence the truths of others.  No, the heart of the matter is what we mean by love.  Is it truly an openness to genuine truth-seeking and the fresh insights of the Holy Spirit, or is it only a cover for ego and group fear and defensiveness?   Whatever our views on marriage equality - and, sadly, the debate is likely to go on in the Church as a whole for ages after it is settled in Australia in law - when we come to 'speaking the truth in love', perhaps we need to spend more time on that last word love.  It is too easy to leap to principle without love.  For those of us who share in pastoral care, the ability to share a prophetic word is also important.  Yet we need to be kind and compassionate in how, as well as what we say.  For me, much maligned 'political correctness' often seems really to amount to no more than being polite and respectful to others - precisely the opposite of the Pharisaism, wielding principles like weapons, which Jesus so abhorred and transcended.  We are not all agreed, not will we be, with or without a plebiscite.  Most Christians however, for and against, genuinely seek to honour God and our conscience.  So let us seek the truth indeed, but let us be gentle with it.

A great Christian (Hans Kung) once said ‘there will not be peace in the world until there is peace between the religions of the world, and there will not be peace between the religions until religious people meet, understand one another, and work together for peace.’  Recent events, especially in the Middle East, show how true this is.  Perhaps in the past it was possible for different religions to ignore one another or to compete, sometimes violently.  Today, when people of different faith live next door to each another, we need another way...

“If one part suffers, every part suffers with it." (1 Corinthians 12.26) - this is part of the reality of our contemporary lives in the one world we now inhabit. It is very difficult not to be affected by the sufferings of other parts of the world, particularly if we share in Christian relationship.  The situation in Iraq is a particularly grave one.  As the Archbishop of Canterbury observed recently:

what is happening right now in northern Iraq is off the scale of human horror… we cry to God for peace and justice and security throughout the world, and especially for Christians and other minority groups suffering so deeply in northern Iraq.

It is therefore a sad but important duty to share in prayer and solidarity with those who suffer.  As we do so, so much of scripture also comes alive in a powerful manner and we are drawn back to the cross and mercy-power of God.  

Yesterday, in St Luke's Church, we shared a particularly poignant Prayer together with other Christians.  The initiative was from a young Christian, Courtney Heyward, from another (independent Evangelical) church, who has been touched to the heart by the situation in Iraq.  It was a reflective occasion, with readings from scripture interspersed with times for silent or shared prayer. Stones, or 'prayer rocks', were given to everyone present to hold as we prayed, reminding us of the hard things endured by others (including the burying of loved ones by the side of the roads of flight) and of the rock of God's love at the heart of all things.  Towards the end of the gathering, each of us laid our stone at the foot of the cross and lit a candle of hope.  We also shared some ways in which we may offer practical support to the persecuted, including giving to appeal funds and advocating for the needs of refugees.  May God's mercy and strength comfort, turn the hearts of those who inflict terror, grant wisdom to those in leadership, and renew all who suffer.

'Are preaching and doctrine really barriers to peace and multi-faith harmony?'  Awkward questions are uncomfortable to ask, even in congenial gatherings.  Yet some are also necessary.  For every group has places where it prefers not to go, despite its ultimate health depending on doing so.  This is true for multi-faith groups, as it is for church and other groups.  For multi-faith groups too can sometimes begin to build walls they do not realise they are creating.  Last Saturday's otherwise excellent Interfaith Forum in Toowoomba was a case in point.  I felt awkward demurring at the groups' discussion feedback (see photo above) but I felt something needed to be said.  For, among many very helpful and constructive ideas for moving forward, up came the old chestnuts that 'we should not preach' and that 'we should avoid doctrine and just share love'.  Well, yes, and no...

The damage done, over the centuries, to human relationships by bad or misdirected preaching and by mishapen doctrinal assertion and conflict is incalculable.  Today, hopefully, most of us are ever more sensitive to of the pain and disharmony which can be caused.  There are times and places, ways and styles, which are more or less appropriate.  In some areas, such as in what ecumenical and inter-religious scholars call 'the dialogue of life' and the 'dialogue of action', preaching and doctrine may be particularly important to play down.  Within multi-faith and many secular settings, there are also people who have been so hurt by bad religion that we need to give priority to gentleness and restraint in communication of our own personal inspirations.  Yet without doctrine we lose both the dynamism which leads to genuine unity and harmony and also the will and openness to truth upon which such unity and harmony depends. 

'Love unites, doctrine divides' is certainly a popular contemporary slogan.   It is even heard sometimes within otherwise informed ecumenical circles.   Partly, the aversion is a case of language.  Today, both preaching and doctrine smack to many of olde worlde, as well as troubling, times.  It is possible indeed that such words may one day be beyond recall, in the same way that the word dogma (understood as 'non-negotiable, incontrovertible' doctrine) is pretty much taboo.  Yet they are so much part of our human religious fabric, especially within Christian circles, that rehabilitation would be a better option.  After all, the reality is that everyone has doctrines. Buddhists, and some others, call them 'teachings' but they are the same thing.  'Love unites, doctrine divides' is indeed (a somewhat amorphous) one of these for some.

Apart from pointing out that a significant part of my life has been, and is still, given over to preaching, my own sense is that disdain for preaching is based on bad experience or misconception. After all, one of the greatest peacemakers of my lifetime was Martin Luther King Jnr, who was a preacher in word, deed, and essential personality.  You could no more take the preacher out of him than you could take his passion for peace and justice, love and harmony.  For these were all one, grounded in his love and experience of God in Jesus Christ.  So to reject preaching, in the best sense of the word, in all circumstances, is to reject one of the distinctive charisms of Christianity (and also, to some extent, those of Islam and some other faiths).  It would certainly do little to endear multi-faith discussion and relationships to many Christians for whom this is part of their lifeblood, not as a weapon towards others but as a means of grace for all.  What matters is how we preach and teach.  Graciously, on Saturday, this concern was heard by others. For at the heart of our journeying with others of other faith, and none, is respect for the inner integrity of one another and what shapes us for good.

Doctrine itself is a vital matter for ecumenical and inter-religious as well as confessional and intra-religious life.  For it is a tool which can be used to help us grow together, as well as being a potential, and well proven, weapon of division.  As with other things in religion, it is a case of how it is used.  Is it a barrier to protect us against others or a freeing pathway upon to which walk?  Is it used for the glory of God and for human self and mutual understanding or for self or group aggrandisement?  Is it a means to learn and grow, written on our hearts and in our souls rather than in proscriptions of others?  Ultimately every doctrine is, even at its very best, but a symbol of eternal love.  We must always be wary therefore of overstepping the mark in our own doctrinal exploration and affirmation.  Yet, even when we fail to comprehend them, the greatest doctrines of faith, as genuine symbols of God's love, can be for us means of grace and revelation.  As such, they cannot simply be laid aside in multi-faith relationship.  They are too important for that.  As the ecumenical journey has shown, 'Life and Work' concerns must proceed hand in hand with 'Faith and Order' dialogue.  Sometimes love is best expressed just in presence, care and service.  Intertwined and underlying however are always our understandings of love.  It is a matter of our human intellectual responsibility to complement and deepen our feelings of well-being towards others.  If we never wrestle with what helps and what hinders we will fail to grow in love and we will hold back our gifts of, albeit glimpsed, understanding from one another.  For as G. K. Chesterton (in What's Wrong with the World?) once said: 'creeds are always in collision. Believers bump into each other; whereas bigots keep out of each others’ way.'