Seeing with the Eyes of Divine Love 

In our passage today from Mark 5:21-43 we find two interwoven healing stories: the healing of the woman who has been bleeding for 12 years, and the raising of Jairus’  12 year old daughter. 

It is important to remember that Mark's Gospel is set against the backdrop of Roman-occupied Palestine, where social hierarchies and purity laws deeply influenced daily life. The society was stratified by gender, health status, and religious purity, creating distinct boundaries between the "clean" and "unclean," and between the powerful and the powerless.

In telling the stories of these two healings, the writer of Mark’s Gospel sandwiches one story within the other and so he highlights the connection between the two stories and these two women. Jairus, is a synagogue leader or ruler, and thus he represents the established religious authority, He is also one of those who sits on top of the pile in a heavily patriarchal society that was probably quite similar to the patriarchal culture of the Taliban in Afghanistan today.  On the other hand the haemorrhaging woman epitomizes the marginalised and the excluded, because she is a powerless woman living in a male dominated world, made even worse due to her continuous bleeding, which would have made her ritually unclean.

The woman’s condition had lasted twelve years, paralleling Jairus' daughter's age, which underscores firstly the length and depth of her suffering. According to the laws of Leviticus (15:25-27), her condition made her perpetually unclean, isolating her from society. She had spent all her resources on physicians without finding a cure, leaving her in economic desperation.

By touching Jesus’ cloak, she transgresses the social and religious boundaries of her culture. She breaks the rules of what was right and proper both culturally and religiously. And so her act of faith is both bold and desperate. Jesus' response, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease,” not only heals her physically but also restores her social identity. By calling her “daughter,” Jesus publicly acknowledges her worth and reintegrates her into the community. And so Jesus directly challenges the oppressive purity system that had marginalized her.

Jairus, on the other hand, as we have already noted, is a figure of authority, and yet in the story, he humbles himself before Jesus. His daughter, at twelve years old, stands on the cusp of womanhood. In fact she is officially of marriageable age, which for anyone living in the western world is almost inconceivable to imagine. Can you imagine your 12 year old daughter, niece or grand-daughter being married off at 12 years of age to a man probably at least ten years older than her. It is just unthinkable. What must this have been like for these young girls?  It must have felt like a death sentence to many of these young girls. This is the patriarchal culture she has grown up in. But she is deeply loved by her father.  He is a desperate father who humbles himself before Jesus probably as a last resort.  

But Jesus' journey to Jairus' house is interrupted by the healing of the haemorrhaging woman. Within the culture of the day, this is a rude interruption by a nobody.  The writer of Mark’s Gospel seems to be deliberately juxtaposing not just the difference in social status between this unclean marginalised women and the Synagogue Ruler, but also juxtaposing the faith of the two. When news arrives that Jairus’ daughter has died, Jesus' statement, “Do not fear, only believe,” emphasizes faith over fear, a recurring theme in Mark.

The raising of Jairus’ daughter helps to emphasize Jesus as the Lord of Life. The Mission of Jesus is to raise people up from their places of death, but it also underscores his challenge to societal norms. By touching the dead girl, Jesus again defies purity laws (Numbers 19:11). His command, “Talitha koum,” meaning “Little girl, get up,” is one of those tender and beautiful moments in the Gospels intimate and compassionate, that reveal Jesus personal concern and love, the value that he sees in this little girl before him. 

Ched Myers, in his book "Binding the Strong Man," interprets these stories as a critique of the socio-political structures of the time. Jesus' actions subvert the existing order firstly by prioritizing compassion over ritual cleanliness. Jesus also reveals that he is not a Biblical fundamentalist. He ignores two very clear Biblical laws to act on the side of life and compassion.  Wholeness and compassion are more important that Biblical rules for Jesus. 

Secondly, He is not swayed by the social standing of the synagogue ruler.  He allows himself to be interrupted by a women of low standing and in effect makes Jairus wait.  His willingness to be interrupted by this marginalised women of low standing emphasizes that Jesus sees her as having equal dignity with Jairus. It suggests that when Gods Kingdom begins to reign in our hearts, we begin to see with new eyes and we no longer distinguish between important people and unimportant people.  All become seen through the eyes of Divine Love as having equal value, and equal dignity.  And so the story suggests that the Way of Jesus and the Spirit of Jesus begins to change the way society is ordered and structured and the value we give to different people in society.  

Lastly, the significance of the number 12 in this story shouldn’t be overlooked.  The number 12 in the Bible represents the twelve tribes of Israel (Genesis 35:22-26). By highlighting the fact that the haemorrhaging women has been suffering for 12 years and that the little girl is 12 years some commentators suggest that it is highlighting that all is not well within the nation of Israel.  It is a culture in which women bleed metaphorically and little girls experience a death in their spirits. 

Jesus is creating a new Israel where women no longer bleed and their dignity is restored and where little girls are raised up to new life and new hope. 

I end with words from two of our other lectionary passages that speak of the new life and new hope that life lived in God brings - 

Psalm 30   11 You turned my mourning into dancing;
    you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
12 that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.

Lamentations 3:22-23   “The steadfast love of G-d never ceases, G-d’s mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”

Calm in the Storms of Life - 
A Reflection on todays Lectionary Readings:
Job 38:1-11;  Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32; 2 Corinthians 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41

Friends, I thought for today, and possibly for a few weeks I might preach from the lectionary passages that are set for today which come from Job, Psalms, 2 Corinthians, and the Gospel of Mark. It is perhaps stating the obvious that we are living in troubled times. Turning on the news makes this immediately evident.  And in the midst of these troubled and tumultuous times today's scripture readings invite us to deepen our understanding of God's presence in the midst of life's tumultuous waves, urging us to trust in the unsearchable wisdom and boundless love of God, the Divine Mystery, the Creative Intelligence behind all life.

In Job 38:1-11 we read of a moment of divine revelation as the Divine Voice speaks to Job out of the whirlwind. In the preceding chapters of what is in effect an extended parable, the anonymous writer of the book of Job has been wrestling, through the character of Job, with the suffering and injustices we all see and face in the world. At this point in a very carefully crafted book, the character of Job demands answers from God. I think we all get to this place at some point in our lives:  “If someone is in charge, why is life unfolding in the way that it is.” Yet, when the Divine Voice finally responds to Job’s demand, it is not with explanations, but with questions that reveal the limits of our human understanding when faced with the mystery of life. 

 "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding.
Who determined its measurements--surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it?  On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?

In this passage, the anonymous Jewish Wisdom writer, is essentially calling his readers to a posture of humility and awe before the mystery of God, the mystery of our world and the universe and the Mystery of Life itself. It reminds us that our finite minds cannot fully grasp the Deeper Wisdom that orders all things. As we meditate on the Divine questions to Job, the writer invites us to surrender our need for control and certainty, embracing instead a posture of trust and reverence.

Turning to Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32, we hear the psalmist giving thanks to God for delivering those in distress. This passage celebrates God’s steadfast love and mighty works. Particularly powerful is the imagery of sailors witnessing God’s wonders in the deep, and crying out to the Lord in their trouble, finding peace as God stills the storm. This is imagery that resonates deeply with our Gospel passage today, where Jesus calms the storm. It is clear that the writer of Mark’s Gospel had this Psalm in mind. 

In our spiritual journey, we can relate to these sailors. The storms of life, whether external or internal, challenge our sense of peace. Yet, it is through these very storms that we experience the profound presence of God. In our deepest distress, when we cry out from the depths of our soul, there is always the opportunity to become open to the deeper reality of the Divine within us, and in awareness of that infinite unchanging Presence within to experience a profound peace that transcends understanding.

Turning to the Epistle reading, in his second letter to the Corinthians 6:1-13, the apostle Paul speaks of the hardships he has endured for the sake of the Gospel—afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labours, sleepless nights, and hunger. Yet, he urges the believers in Cornth to open wide their hearts.  In verses 11-13 he writes "We have spoken frankly to you Corinthians; our heart is wide open to you. There is no restriction in our affections, but only in yours. In return—I speak as to children—open wide your hearts also."

In these last words, Paul summarises much of the Christian Journey, which is a journey towards greater and greater openness of heart, known in the contemplative tradition as "enlarging the heart". It is a call to vulnerability, and to learn to love without reservation, even in the face of suffering. As we open our hearts to God's love, we are empowered by God’s Love to love others more deeply and more genuinely, reflecting the boundless love and compassion of Christ. This passage calls us to reflect on our own spiritual journeys with the understanding that personal and spiritual growth often comes through trials and difficulties.

Finally, turning to Mark 4:35-41 we arrive at the dramatic scene in the Gospel of Mark, where Jesus calms the storm. The disciples, terrified by the wind and waves, cry out, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" Jesus responds by rebuking the wind and commanding the sea, "Peace! Be still!" And in response to the command of Christ, the storm ceases, and there is a great calm. And Jesus asks his disciples "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" Those words are not just directed to the disciples in the story, they are directed to each of us when we find ourselves in the midst of the storms of life:  "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?"

This story is rich with inner meaning. The storm represents the tumultuous challenges we face, both in the world and within our hearts. Jesus’ command, “Peace! Be still!” speaks to the power of Divine Presence to bring peace to our deepest fears and anxieties.  Through prayer and meditation, we learn to hear the Divine Voice voice speaking within our hearts, "Peace! Be still!" calming our fears and strengthening our faith.

And so, as we reflect on these passages today, may we embrace the mystery of the Divine Presence with us and within us as we come to rest ever more deeply in God’s Wisdom and Love. Like Job, may we stand in awe before the Creator's grandeur. Like the psalmist, may we cultivate a heart of gratitude for God’s steadfast love. Like Paul, may we open wide our hearts in love and compassion. And like the disciples, let us find peace in the presence of Christ, who calms every storm. Amen. 

A Homily for Father's Day

This Sunday in our Churches in Dromore and Banbridge we are combining Fathers Day with our Children’s service. We have a puppet show planned for the services and so I thought for those who follow online I would reflect briefly on the 4 lectionary passages that are set for us in the Revised Common Lectionary and we will do so through the lense of Fathers Day as we reflect on the gifts and responsibilities of fatherhood. 

In the Old Testament reading Ezekiel 17:22-24, the prophet, speaking on behalf of God, speaks of God taking a tender shoot from the lofty cedar and planting it on a high mountain, where it will grow and flourish, providing shelter and shade. This imagery speaks to the role of fathers in nurturing their children, helping them grow strong and secure in their love and guidance.

Psalm 92:1-4, 12-15 echoes this theme, praising God for God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. The righteous, those who live in alignment with the wisdom of God the psalmist says, will flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. Fathers, in living lives of dedication and faithfulness, model this righteousness, this wholesome way of living helping their families thrive and flourish.

In 2 Corinthians 5:6-10, 14-17, Paul reminds us that we walk by faith, not by sight. Fathers and parents in general are often required to embody this walk of faith, leading their families through uncertain times with courage and trust. Paul’s words about being a new creation in Christ resonate with the transformative power of a father’s love, which, when lived out in faith shapes and molds the character and faith of their children.

In Mark 4:26-34, Jesus shares the parable of the growing seed and the mustard seed. These parables highlight the mysterious and miraculous growth of God's kingdom, which starts small but becomes great and expansive. Fathers, through their everyday actions of love, patience, and instruction, contribute to this growth. They plant the seeds of faith and values in their children, trusting God to bring about the growth in His time.

On this Father’s Day, may we honour and celebrate the fathers and father figures in our lives. They are often like the farmer in Jesus' parable, faithfully sowing seeds of love and faith without always seeing the immediate results. When fathers live in steadfastness and dedication they become instrumental in the flourishing of their families and children, much like the trees in Ezekiel  that grow strong and provide shelter.

Let us pray

O God, Great Wisdom of the Universe in Whom we live and move and have our being, 
And who Jesus taught us to refer to as Abba,
on this Father’s Day, we thank you for your Divine Love. 
Like a Father’s Love, Your Love is strong and deep, 
Filled with faith in us, and hopes and dreams for each of us. 
We thank you that your love endures through all obstacles
Always ready to support us. 

We thank you too that your fatherly love is tender and kind towards us
A source of strength and grace in times of difficulty
A shelter from life’s stormy winds
A warm, safe and caring place 
in which each of us can find a home 
and each of us can find our rest. 
In Jesus name. Amen. 

Can Love make a difference? How do we remain focussed on Love?

Today will probably be the last reflection I will give on Bishop Michael Curry’s book “Love is the Way” although there are a lot of other chapters to be explored with a lot of rich a personal insights in them. 

I would like to share a few other of his thoughts today under the questions: Can Love Really Make a Difference in this World? As well as the question, “How do we keep ourselves focussed on the Way of Love in a troubled and divided world”.. 

Bishop Michael Curry writes that on one occasion he was speaking about how he believed that love could change the world, and he was questioned by a journalist who asked him “Sounds nice, but isn't a world built on love a utopian dream?  This had echoed a similar question from a different journalist ‘Can this really work?’ In other words, is love really an effective tool to change the world?  For a moment Bishop Curry had to ask himself?  Could it be, that getting angry, domineering and violent is in fact more productive than doubling down on love?  

But after a moment of pause Michael Curry replied with a question of his own: “How is the way of the world working for you right now?” Who’s the Pollyanna here? 

He went on to say that the world that we’re living in right now is a world built on selfishness, indifference and even hatred and it doesn’t look good. Amongst a host of other major issues of concern, we have wars and rumours of wars and wee have an earth exploited to a point of crisis, despite that fact that, to quote a protest sign “mass extinction is bad for profit”. 

Michael Curry goes on that what all this adds up to is just that: mutually assured destruction. Which he suggests is an insanity. Suddenly a world built on love starts to look like the sane one. 

And so he believes that not only will love work, but that it’s the only thing that will work.  He goes on to say: Love builds, hate destroys. We have to stop the madness, and you don’t stop the madness with more madness.  He says that love is God’s way, the moral way, but it’s also the only thing that ultimately works. It’s the rare moment he says where idealism actually overlaps with pragmatism and suggests that people don’t often think of Jesus as a strategist. But Michael Curry describes Jesus as a leader who successfully built what was essentially a radical equal rights movement within a brutal Roman Empire, a movement that has continued on for over 2000 years. Michael Curry suggests that you don’t do that without being a mast strategist. And so when Jesus said ‘Love those who curse you’, what Michael Curry calls Jesus famous call to non-violence, he wasn’t just speaking of the kind of behaviour that he believed God preferred, he was offering a strategy, a how-to-guide on changing negative situations into positive ones. 

And Michael Curry notes that when Jesus spoke these words in the Sermon on the Mount, he was delivering them to an oppressed and occupied people, share-croppers, seething and sometimes rebelling against their Roman oppressors. 

The Apostle Paul is sometimes held in contrast to Jesus. It is suggested that Jesus invited ordinary people into a new way of life while Paul created a religion around Jesus. But Michael Curry reminds us that in Paul’s letter to the Romans, in chapter 12 he captures the very spirit of Jesus’ teaching from the sermon on the mount where Paul encourages the Christians living in Rome to follow the way of love, not as a call to give up and to give in to injustice, but as a way to help and heal, to lift up and liberate. As Michael Curry puts it,  ‘to defang and disarm an empire without hurting or harming’ in the process.  We read these words in last weeks service: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”  Thats exactly what what Jesus was teaching.  Michael Curry writes that it is what Ghandi, inspired by Jesus, would later call ‘pricking the conscience’ – disarming one’s oppressors with behaviour so loving that they can’t help feeling the wrongness of their own hate, thus opening their minds to new possibilities. 

Michael Curry believes that in the end Love is the only thing that works. And although the Jesus movement, otherwise known as the church, has not always practised it very consistently, when it has practised the way of Christ-like Love, it has been like a softening agent in society, transforming society for the better.  Jesus called it being salt and light. He also referred to it as being like yeast or leaven in society.  It only takes a little bit of yeast to affect the whole dough and to make all of it rise. 

One of Michael Curry’s early hero’s was Rev. Dr Martin Luther King jnr., although he freely admits that he was by no means a perfect person, being both saint and sinner. But one thing that Martin Luther King jnr did get right was to paint a picture of a dream of a different kind of world not based on racism and segregation, and the method’s by which he sought to achieve that dream were the ways of non-violent action that he had learned in the scriptures from Jesus. 

Michael Curry speaks of how the assassination of Martin Luther King jnr. was an enormous blow, not just to Michael Curry, but to others who had put their hope in him.  For some it raised questions of whether the way of love can really change the world?  For others, it was a reminder that following the way of Jesus in the world is not always easy and can indeed bring with it consequences.  Jesus warns of this, but it doesn’t not stop him from giving his own life for the cause of love, and in doing so he encourages his followers to not give up on the way of love either for it will not be without reward. 

Martin Luther King himself knew how difficult it is to consistently follow the way of love in the face of opposition and violence and so to encourage and help those who were part of his own movement, he laid out for them what he called the Ten Commandments of Non-Violence.  Michael Curry says that number 10 was specific to marching, but numbers 1-9 are more universal in nature. 

I personally was unaware of these 10 Commandments of Non-Violence of Martin Luther King, until I read Michael Curry’s book. I have to say I was not only surprised by them, but also deeply impressed by them.  I can’t go into detail here, but I will try to outline them briefly: 

Commandment 1 – Meditate daily on the teachings and life of Jesus
Commandment 2 – Remember always that the non-violent movement seeks justice and reconciliation – not victory. 
Commandment 3  - Walk and talk in the manner of love, for God is love – this says Michael curry is the call to be the change that you would like to see in the world. Make the dream real by enacting it. 
 Commandment 4 - Pray daily to be used by God in order that all people might be free. (This is about having a vision of love and peace that goes bigger than just one’s own group). 
Commandment 5 – Sacrifice personal wishes in order that all people might be free – Michael Curry invites us to recall that the opposite of love isn’t hate it’s selfishness. 
Commandment 6 – Observe with both friend and foe, the ordinary rules of courtesy.  
Commandment 7 - Seek to perform regular service for others and for the world.  Michael Curry writes that service is the way we can exercise the muscles of love. 
Commandment 8 – Refrain from the violence of fist, tongue or heart – I am guessing that most of us are generally able to restrain ourselves when it comes to the violence of fist.  How do we fair when it comes to the violence of tongue and heart? 
Commandment 9 Strive to be in good spiritual and bodily health – Michael Curry writes that this is the call to put your own oxygen mask on first. Unselfish living doesn’t mean ignoring the self or becoming anybody’s doormat. 

So, can love make a difference? Can love change the world? 

On one occasion, Michael Curry was preaching in at the Howard University’s Rankin Chapel in Washington DC.  Afterwards he was informed that the famous South African Jazz trumpeter Hugh Masekela wished to meet him.  Michael Curry was dumbfounded, having no idea why one of the world’s greatest jazz trumpeters would want to meet him? 

Hugh Masekela was waiting in the vestry and as Michael Curry entered, the jazz trumpeter threw out his hand and started shaking Bishop Curry’s hand vigorously, saying: “Anytime I come across an Anglican Bishop, I make sure to meet him”.  Hugh Masekela went on to explain that it was the Anglican Archbishop Trevor Huddleston who made it possible for him to become who he was.  When Hugh was a teenager he saw a movie based on a famous jazz trumpeter which captured his imagination. The next day he went to the chaplain of his school who was Trevor Huddleston, and Anglican monk and priest from Mirfield West Yorkshire who had chosen to serve the poor community of Sophiatown in Johannesburg.  Hugh Masekela told Father Huddlestone that he wanted to play the trumpet. And seeing the light in the teenagers eyes, Trevor Huddleston went to a local music shop and bought him a trumpet. Handing the trumpet over to Hugh Masekela, Trevor Huddleston had no idea of what an impact that would have on Hugh, or how Hugh would become a world renowned trumpet player. As Michael Curry writes, All he knew was that he had seen love glimmering in the eyes of Hugh and he did what he could to add heat to it’s light. Trevor Huddleston’s gift of the trumpet was a gift of love that changed a young black teenagers life growing up in Apartheid South Africa. 

Hugh Masekela is not the only one to have been impacted in a profound way by Fr Trevor Huddleston. Archbishop Desmond Tutu told a similar story how when he was a young boy, he contracted polio at a time when there was still no vaccine. He ended up in hospital where he stayed for months.  Father Trevor Huddleston would come and visit him in hospital and bring him books to make sure that he didn’t fall behind in his school work.  It was the love and care shown by Fr Trevor Huddleston that inspired Desmond Tutu later in his life to become an Anglican Priest which later led to him become Bishop of Johannesburg and then Archbishop of Cape Town, playing an enormous role in advocating for the end of Apartheid in South Africa and giving the people of South Africa the Dream of the Rainbow Nation as a vision for a New South Africa to aspire for.  T One has to concede that dream for a New South Africa has not been fully realised yet. Indeed corruption has eaten away at that dream. But at the time it could be said that Archbishop Desmond Tutu played a key role in preventing South Africa from descending into civil war. 

Can love make a difference in this world? Trevor Huddleston’s acts of love and kindness to Hugh Masekela and Desmond made an enormous difference, and particularly in the case of Archbishop Desmond Tutu had positive consequences that go far beyond any ability to predict.  

I am reminded of the story of the starfish by Loren Eiseley. It all started when...

A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement.

She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t begin to make a difference!”

The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied,

    “Well, I made a difference for that one!” 

The old man looked at the girl inquisitively and thought about what she had done and said. Inspired, he joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the sea. 

Michael Curry asks, What kind of a world would we live in if even half the people in it were committed to living in the way of Love. What if it was even just 25% of people. What kind of difference could we make together? 

Making Do, Making New – Love is the Way

In Chapter Three of his Book, Love is the Way, Bishop Michael Curry speaks of his grandmother, and how when she was cooking or baking or prepping she told them stories.  She was African American, the daughter of share-croppers, the grand-daughter of former slaves.  She had grown up in a difficult world, where everyday was a struggle.  She went to high school and later taught children in the old country segregated schools. She worked as a domestic, cleaning homes while rearing children and a family.  She never went to college, but she did everything in her power to make sure that her children did.  She buried some of her own children, including Michael Curry’s own mother.  She buried a husband and lost loved ones fighting in the 2nd world war in segregated units.  

He writes: Times were hard and sometimes dangerous, but they always made do with what they had and what life threw at them. He says that was the phrase that she would always use: “We made do”. 

And one expression of making do, was his grandmother’s ability to cook with whatever she had in her pantry.  He says she could take the grits and make them gourmet.  With all sorts of scraps and bits and pieces, she could create a meal for her family that tastes like love feels. A meal so delicious that you could forget your troubles, at least while you were at the table. 

It had been how she had learned to cook from her parents and grandparents who had been slaves.  As slaves they weren’t given a lot. They were often given what was not wanted, scraps otherwise thrown away.  Part of the genius of cooking with scraps was that folk learned how to ‘make it stretch’. They took the proverbial two pieces of fish and five loaves of bread and fed a multitude.  He says: My ancestors took a little and made a lot.  

I get the sense that this would have been true for a lot of people living in Ireland a few generations ago.  Making do.  That was true of my grandmother, my mom’s mom.  My grandfather was a brick layer and an alcoholic. Not many of his wages actually made it home. My grandmother had to learn to make do. 

Bishop Curry writes that making do is not the same as giving up. It’s a way of figuring out how to both survive and thrive. Making do is about taking the scraps of life that might be in front of one and making something new and miraculous out of it. Taking an old reality and creating a new possibility.  

He writes that in the New Testament there is a passage in which the Apostle Paul reflects on the logic of love: Let Love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold onto what is good.  The passage concludes with the words: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” 

He says this is the methodology, the way, the logic of love. Overcome evil with good.  Take their garbage and serve it back gourmet. That is the way of love that Jesus was teaching, and living out in his own life. Making do! 

Michael Curry suggests a recipe for making do: 

The first ingredient for making do is tradition: And by tradition, Michael Curry is referring to tapping into the wisdom of the past.  The reason that his grandmother was able to make do, to continuously make the most out of difficult circumstances is that she had learn to do so from her ancestors, her parents and grandparents.  

When we need guidance on how to live a life grounded in love and guided by love, making lemon juice when life throws lemons at you, we don’t have to start from scratch. There already exists a wisdom from people of faith who have struggled and yet made do. 

Religion at it’s worst tries to tell us the way something should be done, because it has always been done this way. That is religion at it’s worst. Dogmatic, authoritarian, unable to bend or change or adapt to new circumstances.  But Michael Curry suggests that religion at it’s best should be a treasure chest of wisdom gleaned from the faith journeys of people who have gone before.  Like his mother who learned to cook from scraps and bits and pieces that others would have thrown away, so religion at it’s best should provide skill’s for living and loving when life seems to present to us the scraps. Learning to make the most in the midst of difficult circumstances. Helping us to keep our eyes focussed on the light when it feels like darkness has descended. 

The Second Ingredient for Making do he suggests is Imagination. 

Imagination is crucial if you are going to take life’s scraps and turn them into something gourmet as his grandmother did, and he points us to Michelangelo.  Michelangelo, one of the great artists of the renaissance, when asked how he was able to produce such amazing sculptures would say that the sculpture already existed in the block of granite.  It was simply his job to discover it. That, says Michael Curry is imagination. 

Michael Curry goes on to quote the anonymous saying that problems are solutions in disguise.  In the language of psychology, he says it is called reframing. Seeing a situation in a new light and in doing so finding new inspiration to move forward. 

The importance of imagination can be found in many of stories of the Bible, like the story of Moses and the Burning Bush. He notes that Professor Walter Breuggemann once observed that the moment of liberation for the Hebrew slaves in Egypt did not begin when Moses told Pharoah: “Let my people go!” Likewise it did not begin when the plagues brought their Egyptian slave masters to their knees. Neither did it begin when the waters of the Red Sea were parted allowing slaves to pass through to freedom on the other side.  Michael Curry writes that the freedom movement led by Moses begins at the burning bush, when God invites Moses to imagine a world without slavery.  It begins in the imagination. That’s where any movement begins that seeks to help us humans become more humane.  And so Michael Curry writes that making do begins when someone dares to imagine another possibility, one that is greater than what appears to be the reality. 

In Matthew 18:3  Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

It was the late Urban Terry Holmes who believed that what Jesus may have been referring to was that wonderful children’s characteristic of imagination.  And like wise, Bishop Curry says, if we are to behold the reign of God, that perfect reign of God’s peace, God’s shalom, God’s salaam, what he call’s the dream of God, then we need to become like little children and use our imaginations to imagine a new future, to dream a new dream for humanity. 

The last ingredient for making do says Michael Curry, is God. 

Bishop Curry writes that he grew up in a community where God was a given.  He acknowledges in the book that not everyone grows up in that way.  But within his community, the givenness of God gave people like his grandmother the strength to believe that life could be different and the constant assurance that whatever struggles or battles they were facing there was always a possibility that their current circumstances could be disrupted by a power greater than themselves.  It gave them the ability to look at life with the eyes of hope.  That out of sadness, joy could still come. That out of despair there was always the potential for new possibilities.  I think even people who don’t have a traditional faith have discovered that when they have acted on a moment of inspiration and embarked upon something that seemed bigger than themselves it seemed like the universe had begun to conspire with them in bringing a new possibility into being, as though there were hidden forces at work aiding and assisting them.  For Michael Curry and the community he grew up in, the language that they used to describe such experiences was the language of God.  To believe in God for them, was to believe in the possibility of the impossible, that they could tap into a strength beyond their own when life was at it’s most difficult.  And so Michael Curry writes that that’s why prayer matters. Prayer matters he says because when God (or some conception of a Higher Power) is brought into the equation of life, something changes. New possibilities emerge.  Making do, requires a little bit of faith… a faith that new possibilities are possible even when it may seem impossible. 

Bishop Curry ends the chapter by referring to Howard Thurman a theologian who made a big impact on Martin Luther King Jnr.  Howard Thurman spoke of his own grandmother who had been a former slave.  She had told of how the slaves would have two church services every Sunday. The first service was arranged by the master, and the authorised preacher would preach a sermon whose essential purpose was to instruct them on how God would want them to be better slaves. 

But after the formal service, the slaves would then hold their own worship service and the slave preacher would preach another sermon, one that would always have ended with the words: “You are not slaves, you are the children of God”. It was an act of spiritual defiance and spiritual resistance. 

In those words, the old preacher ripped off the givens of reality and offered a new possibility. “You are not slaves, you are the children of God”.  

Bishop Curry writes: No matter what the world and life may say, or how it may make you feel, you are the children of God.  And that essential identity of being children of God gives us the energy to make do, to find strength in a power greater than our small selves, to take whatever it is that life throws at us and to make do, and not just to make do, but, indeed, to make new. Amen.