The gospels record the teachings of Jesus about his return, and the end of the current age, through parables:  eg in Matthew 25 we find the parables of the ten bridesmaids, the parable of the talents and the parable of the sheep and the goats. The preceding chapter is a discussion about the end of the age. These chapters are found immediately before Matthew’s record of the events leading up to the the crucifixion of Jesus – with a sense that Jesus is impressing their importance on his disciples (and on later disciples who will read these words, even 2000 years later). The key thought is to make sure you are ready, and prepared!

“Come, Lord Jesus” has become the mantra of the Advent season. These words are almost the last in the entire Bible, and create a sense that this is the ultimate longing of the whole creation. When we pray these words, we show that our focus is not on what this world has to offer – in spite of all the good we might find – but on the coming Kingdom, when evil will be vanquished; when pain and death will be a thing of the past, and everyone and everything will experience the liberty that Paul refers to in Romans 8.

All creation anticipates the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay.  For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.

If our primary instruction for preparing for Christ’s second coming is simply to “be ready”, how exactly do we do that?  For those who have been Christians for a while, no doubt there has been some time in our lives where the end of the age has consumed our thinking. Perhaps we have heard someone speak about what the Bible teaches, or read books or watched movies about the subject. The subject can grip us – as, indeed, it should. Often the response it to try to locate the time when everything will happen. Despite the warnings of Jesus that the hour is unknown, and will come unexpectedly (no time is more unexpected tha right now!), we love trying to solve this mystery of its timing. I suspect that this is not what Jesus meant when he urged us to be ready.

Rather, the teaching of Jesus  is to be watchful – the sense of not being distracted by the many things happening around about us, and keeping an eternal perspective – and constantly being about the master’s business.

It will be good for that servant whose master finds him doing (what he was asked to do) when he returns. (Mt 24:46)

There is a sense in which the unexpected return of Christ might catch us out – like naughty children doing something they know their parents won’t approve of. The simple solution to this fear is to live our lives, not with the worry of being caught out, but just doing what we sense God requires of us. It will probably involve deliberately avoiding what we know to be wrong (however tempting it might seem in the moment), and simply living under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

When we pray  ”Come, Lord Jesus”, we are not just expressing a desire that things become better. We are actually adding our voice to the establishment of Christ’s kingdom. We are inviting Jesus afresh into our current situation, as well as thinking of the culmination of the ages.

Within Christianity he pointed to the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches as examples of this phenomenon. Many Catholics and Greek Orthodox (I expect the same may be true for Russians and other orthodox churches) who seem to have little deep connection with the teachings of Jesus in their thinking or lifestyle, nonetheless still consider themselves a part of their religion, and loyal to the culture built around it. (Tony went on to look at Islam, which he considers the most ritualistic religion – with its daily prayer times, the facing to Mecca, observance of Ramadan and commitment to pilgrimage (hajj) – making the point that is hard for the gospel to make a big impact into Islamic cultures.)

Most Protestant churches, however, have low levels of ritual – perhaps as a backlash against Catholicism in the early days of the Protestant movement, and/or as a return to a simpler, more Biblical Christianity without so much pomp and ceremony…… and we see less loyalty to a particular group or denomination. This insight set me to thinking about whether such loyalty, reinforced by familiar ritual, is a good thing or not.

Human beings seem to like familiarity. Just observe young children going through bedtime rituals. They love a familiar book, read in a familiar way (and will promptly tell you if something has been done the wrong way!). When we go to footy, we all love to sing along with the club song when our team wins – even though some of the songs are awful! But imagine trying to suggest that Carlton should change their song! The breaking of traditional rituals is just about taboo in most circles.

So, is Protestantism missing out on something by having less ritual? Or is the type of  loyalty generated by a lifetime of exposure to ritual not really the type of loyalty we want? It can readily lead to nominalism, and may not necessarily involve a loyalty to Jesus (which I guess is what we really want).

Jesus himself left us with just one simple ritual – one that can be done anywhere, with a minimum of preparation (though it can, and has been, ritualised into something grander) – the Lord’s Supper. We can observe the ritual whenever we have food and drink on our tables, and remember that our life is in Christ (the bread of life).

I happen to think that rituals are best when they cause us to reflect seriously on what they are pointing to – rather than an end in themselves. The use of imagery and illustration is consistent with the teaching method of Jesus, which is designed to raise inner questions more than to provide answers – the answers tend to come when we take the questions seriously, and mull them over.

There is little sense that, having experienced life for a longer time, they might have some wisdom to contribute. This is not true in others cultures (one thinks of our indigenous culture), where the old are respected and honoured, even those who have passed on. In some cultures, ancestor worship is a part of the culture.

Richard Rohr speaks and writes often about “the two halves of life”. I highly recommend his book “Falling Upwards – A spirituality for the two halves of life”. Although there is no definitive point where the second half of life begins, and be bemoans the fact that so many remain in the first half of life for their entire life (if that is not an oxymoron), he points out that entry into the second half of life is often marked by a crisis of some kind. In the first half of life, we seek to establish an image of who we are. We need certain protective mechanisms to shield our fragile egos – this is not a bad thing; in fact it is necessary for our survival in the short term. During this time, the opinions of others about us are very important. It is time of building our dreams and aspirations, and determining what success in life will look like. It is a time to get us started.

However, at some point in our lives, we will (almost invariably) reach the point where either our dreams seem out of reach, or where we have obtained them and begin to think “is this all their is?”. This time is often referred to as a “mid-life crisis”. It is how we respond here that determines whether we finish well, and get to embrace and enjoy the second half of life.

In the first half of life, it seems we need certainty – we want to know where the boundaries are (even if we want to push them a bit), and things are black and white to us. Either we are right or wrong – there is no consideration that truth might be found in both sides of an argument…. no acceptance of paradox, or seeing things in shades of grey. Those who do are often portrayed as compromisers.

The second half of life ought to allow us to accept who we are (with our all strengths and weaknesses), accepting failure as a part of life (as Jean Vanier pointed out in the video we watched) and no longer requiring the approval of others to validate who we are. In a time when our bodies are slowing down anyway, it should allow us to become more reflective, more tolerant and less self-centred. Alas, it is not always true … no doubt we all know older people who have not aged gracefully.

But those who have truly embraced the second half of life (and some are fortunate to do this early on – we have probably all met younger people who seem to have a depth of wisdom) have something to teach us. But it will mean becoming counter-cultural, and valuing their thoughts – which ought to be easier for Christians, since following Jesus is also counter-cultural. Alas again, this is not always true. Many still want to divide us into camps, where my group is right, and everyone else is wrong. This may help us deal with life in the short term, but it severely narrows our journey – and I don’t think that this is what Jesus was alluding to when inviting us to walk the narrow road.

I was thinking about words that Christians use to describe themselves – to show that they are a particular type of Christian, apparently not content to be just Christian (and perhaps be associated with certain other types of Christian). Even the word Christian has picked up its own negative connotations along the way, and I know of some people who avoid the word, and prefer to simply call themselves followers of Jesus. The word itself was not coined by those in the early church, but by outsiders (probably derisively) – but worn with honour by those to whom it was directed.

So, what are some of the adjectives that are applied to Christians (and the church) that seek to narrow, or make more specific, the particular traits of their faith …. and can we identify with them?

Catholic: despite usually being applied to one particular expression of the church, the word means “universal”, and reflects that fact there is only one church – despite our tendencies to sub-divide it. In it broad sense, I’m happy to be labelled catholic.

Evangelical: wanting to share the good news of Jesus with others, ardent for a particular cause. These days the word is often associated with right wing (Republican) politics in the US, and a particular set of beliefs in line with that political stance. At the risk of being thought right wing, I would consider myself evangelical.

Charismatic: empathising the operation of the gifts of the spirit within believers, and the church. Also used of individuals who are able to command widespread respect and following amongst the wider populace. As one who believes that all our work should be energised by the Holy Spirit, I am happy to be identified as charismatic.

Protestant: from the reformation period – the sense of protest was about the abuse of power by the (Roman Catholic) church of the day. Now broadly applied to the churches formed during or since that time. When any church abuses it power, I will be protestant.

Orthodox: literally “right thinking” – agreeing with the accepted teaching. Of course, we all think we are orthodox in terms that our particular thinking is correct … but one man’s orthodoxy is another man’s heresy! Of course I an orthodox – it’s others that I worry about.  :-)

Fundamentalist: returning to the fundamentals. The term is these days used derisively about those with a narrow agenda, and an intolerance of different viewpoints. But there is something positive about reducing the complexities of scripture to a couple of clear fundamentals – Jesus said that the law and the prophets could be reduced to two things – love God with all you have, and love your neighbour as your self. He also instructed us to seek first the Kingdom. If we make these our fundamentals, I’m happy to be called a fundamentalist.

So that makes me a catholic, evangelical, charismatic, orthodox, protestant fundamentalist! … but somehow, while I agree with the definitions (provided they are my definitions, and not what others would narrow them to mean), the label is quite unattractive …. and unnecessary.  Let’s just say I seek to be a follower of Jesus, which means that all other followers (despite whatever labels they want to apply to themselves and/or to me) are my brothers and sisters.

YES

The whole idea of “going to church” is an odd one. I know most people think that a church is a building, or perhaps a meeting that takes place in a building – but Christians ought not to think this way. We know that the church is the people, and that a church can just as easily meet in a home or a community building, or a cafe … whatever (but even some Christians will not regard these as “real” churches).  So, if the question is about whether it is a  necessity to go regularly to a place where some sort of  ”religious meeting” takes place, I think the answer is NO … or YES – I can be a Christian without doing this. The question is usually posed in a way that asks whether this is an obligation that I must meet – although I acknowledge that millions attend church meetings quite freely, and enjoy (and look forward to) the experience. But these are not the people asking the question. Many have had bad experiences of church – feeling judged, or expected to do things that their heart is not in, or maybe victims of church politics and in-fighting – and are asking whether they have to keep going through the motions.

NO

If the question is rephrased as “can I follow Jesus without being connected with other followers?”, I would want to answer NO. The word translated “church” in English Bibles means simply a gathering (not necessarily a religious one), so let’s ignore the idea that “going to church” (a phrase I dislike) is about engaging in some sort of ritual (and there’s nothing wrong with ritual – it can be very powerful and inspiring) to show God, or others, how sincere we are. The question becomes “should we meet together with other believers?”. Scripture is clear that those who decide to follow Jesus are added (by Jesus) to his church. You cannot be a follower, and not be a part of the church – it is the body of Christ, of which we are all made members. Given that the root word for church is “gathering” , one has to ask how can the church be the church without gathering together? The writer of Hebrews encourages us not to give up the practice of meeting together, lamenting that some are already doing this – indicating that our question was being asked, even in the early days of the church.

We need one another

The reality is that if I am to be true to my decision to follow Jesus (I did not decide to join the church – I chose to follow Jesus, and was thereby added to the church), I know that I desperately need to connect in a meaningful way with others who have made the same choice. I know that left to my own devices, I will fail to be who I ought to be. I need others who will love me, encourage me, challenge me , pray for me …. and all the other “one another” directives found the NT scriptures.

My question is more along the lines of how we can better connect – going beyond the weekly meeting (or maybe two meetings, if in a small group) and really do life together. In times past, before motorised transport and mass entertainment came into existence, little village churches were able to schedule morning and evening devotional times during the week. People lived close by, and without the need to drive somewhere else, or to find entertainment (maybe church provided this?), the community was able to gather and reflect together through scripture, songs and prayers. There seems no similar option today – not without major changes to our lifestyles. Part of me yearns that it would be possible to connect more deeply in a world where we all seem to be kilometres long (we can go wherever we like) and millimetres thick? – a bit like Facebook, where we can have hundreds of friends, but only superficialities to share.

What a great story! Matthew tells us that the religious leaders are trying to trap Jesus. First they suck up to him … “we know you are a man of integrity .. you teach God’s way of truth” …  (I wonder what Jesus made of all this – probably the same as we do), and then they ask him a question that is supposed to have only two answers – YES or NO. No doubt they are prepared with other questions (or perhaps accusations) for which ever of these answers he gives – they don’t genuinely want to know his answer. They think that whatever he says, they can use his words against him.

So how dare he not answer the question properly! If he was in an American court, I can hear them asking that the judge declare him a “hostile witness”, and force him answer all questions YES or NO with no further explanation. What a pity they didn’t have US TV shows in those days  

Probably we have all been placed in situations where a YES or NO answer will not convey what we really think. As Paul Cameron pointed out on Sunday, there is a part of human nature that likes polarisation – you either agree with me (and are therefore right) or you don’t (so must be wrong!). It is such simplistic analysis that Jesus refuses bow to, and provides an answer which leaves his questioners wondering what to do next.

From the distance of time, and from our perspective as Jesus-followers, we can smugly snigger as Jesus puts one over those who wanted to trap him. However, if we then sit down to think through how to apply and respond to Jesus’ answer, we surely find ourselves in a similar dilemma. Our first impulse is ask which things belong to God, and which to Caesar? Part of us wants to make a list of where everything fits … probably producing a polarisation amongst ourselves about where some things fit.  Maybe this is not the purpose of the exercise?

The earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it; the world, and all who live in it Psalm 24:1

Surely everything belongs to God! And if that is the case, nothing belongs to Caesar. This argument is, of course, based on the assumption that everything belongs to either one or the other, but not both! Oh, the middle ground is such a hard place … so much better to be at one of the extremes (we think).

I suspect that this attitude is a reflection of our love for having laws to determine everything for us. When we were young, we had laws imposed on us, but the aim was always that when we grew up, these laws would become a part of who we are. In a sense, we no longer need them. The Biblical narrative has a similar perspective, as we move from the old covenant (the law given to Moses) to the new (the law written on our hearts). Paul (the apostle, not the Cameron) puts it this way:  So the law was our guardian until Christ came that we might be justified by faith. Now that this faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian.  (Gal 3:24-25)

Any attempt to pre-determine what is right and what is wrong, misses the whole point. We slowly learn to accept things as they are, and not as they “ought to be”. Our guide is not some pre-determined list of what is OK, but rather the Spirit of God leading us in the moment. The reality is, not many of us a really ready for this way of thinking and acting – certainly not all the time, anyway…. but that is the journey God takes us on.

What lessons are we supposed to take from the parable? No doubt the words of the owner – “Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?” – tell us something of the heart of God, and this ought to encourage us to believe we will always be treated generously, even if not as generously as others, who we might think undeserving of such extravagance.

It is the attitude of being treated unfairly – not in our actual treatment, but in our treatment compared to others – that I would like to reflect on. Those who signed on early were happy with the pay offered, until they discovered what others were paid. If they had not found out what the others got, they would still have been happy. What is it with our constant need to do better than others? Why are we so influenced by what others have, and see our contentment reduced because others seem to have done better? Why are we so competitive?

Brian pointed out that the Jewish listeners would have seen themselves as those who worked the whole day. Opening the Kingdom up to Gentiles, with the same levels of “reward” is unfair in their eyes. The attitude of the older brother in the prodigal son parable comes to the fore once again. This sense of injustice at having been loyal in the long run, only to see the ungrateful, selfish younger brother welcomed home with great feasting!

Particularly if we have been in the church for some time, we run the risk of being the older brother or the full-day workers. We can easily sense that our efforts and loyalty are unappreciated, and that those coming to faith are welcomed too extravagantly. We can easily forget that we too are recipients of grace – we did not (and still do not) get treated as we deserved. Having been “chosen” so long ago can easily cause us to think that we somehow merit this favour from God.

I wonder about an attitude that resents grace being shown to the undeserving, and resents the fact that we have done the hard yards, but others are being rewarded ahead of us. Sometimes we envy those who find faith late in life – they get “the best of both worlds”, able to enjoy the forbidden pleasures of this life, and yet graciously welcomed to the next. Maximum rewards, minimum effort! Behind this attitude lies an assumption that entering the Kingdom restricts our lives, but that in the longer term it is worth the sacrifice! Surely we need to challenge this assumption. Are not our lives enriched by meeting Christ? Is it not better the enter the Kingdom sooner, rather than later? Is not our working a joy rather than an effort?  Are we not the fortunate ones, rather than those employed at the last minute?

Is not this attitude that following Christ is “working” while others are “having fun” or “slacking off”  the real source of resentment? When we think this way (and let’s be honest, we all do at least occasionally), do we not discredit the value of being in the Kingdom in our lives, and display an unhealthy ingratitude to the God  who has been so gracious to us?

The accumulation of possessions is very much a measure of our “success” in our culture (and probably in most cultures) – which makes walking away from it all look like “failure”, and who wants that? However, there is another issue that I would like to reflect upon, and that is whether or not we trust God to provide our needs on a daily basis. If we do not, then it makes sense to accumulate money for the proverbial “rainy day”. Do we trust God to provide for us into future, or do we need to ensure that we do that ourselves?

Yet Jesus encouraged us to pray for our “daily bread” – not our weekly groceries, or our future retirement needs. I feel that to do this requires us to think of God’s provision in terms of abundance, whereas our usual thinking is more centred on scarcity. When I studied economics many years ago, I was told that economics was all about the distribution of scarce resources. Where something is not scarce (like breathable air), there is no market for it – though I am sure there are those who would like to market it somehow. As an aside, such people have already succeeded in selling us pre-packaged water – a proposal that would have been laughed at earlier in my own lifetime.

So does God provide? I think this is the key question is dealing with our attitudes about wealth and possessions, and freeing ourselves from being bound to them. The scriptures are rich in examples of small and insignificant resources being used to produce much. We usually refer to them as “miracles”.

In Exodus 16 God provides manna for the Israelites – they are instructed to collect enough for just one day at a time. Those who collected more discovered that on the second day it became maggot-infested. This is a graphic example of living one day at a time.

In 1 Kings 17  we find the story of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath. This widow is desperately poor – her pantry consists of a handful of flour and a small jug of olive oil. She is planning to make the final meal for herself and her son from this. Elijah asks to be a part of this meal, promising her that the flour and oil will nor run out until the drought-breaking rains come. Trusting Elijah, she uses up all she has, only to find that the flour and oil do not run out – just as Elijah promised.

This example of giving away all that a person has, in order to provide way beyond what is physically possible, is again demonstrated through the young boy who gave up his lunch in order to feed the five thousand (in John 6). Jesus commends the widow who places her entire fortune (two small coins) in the temple offering (Mark 12). Such people demonstrate a faith that God will provide for them, and show that they believe God to be a God of abundance – even when circumstances  are not very favourable.

In Acts 3 Peter heals a beggar at the temple gate, with these words:  “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.”  Perhaps on previous visits, they did have some money, and gave it to him. Maybe it is only when we have exhausted our own resources that we are able to tap into divine resources? Maybe we are too well resourced, and too reliant on our own capacities, to see God work miracles in our time and space?

The other week when we looked at Peter’s confession that Jesus ” was the Christ, the Son of the Living God”, we also noticed that Jesus said that on this “rock” (either Peter himself, or on his confession – depending on one’s theology) he would build his church. When we read this nowadays, we already have in mind what a “church” might be, and are influenced by our prior understanding. But the Greek word used here (ekklesia, from which we get “ecclesiastical” and other similar “churchy” words) was not a religious term at all. It simply means an assembly or gathering of people – not necessarily for religious purposes. In fact, the word is used of the mob in Ephesus that assembled to protest about Paul’s presence there, and the fact that many were believing his message, and threatening the business interests associated with the temple of Artemis (read Acts 19). This gathering was understandably not rendered “church” by the translators, although it is the exact same word and is translated as “church” on every other occasion in the New Testament. Incidentally, I have been in some church meetings that resembled this gathering.  :-)

Jesus said that he came to “build his church” – I guess the real question is whether Jesus had in mind what the church is today. I saw a documentary recently about the production of the King James Version of the Bible in 1611 (celebrating its 400th anniversary). One thing that interested me was the discussions of the translators on the translation of this particular word. James I wanted the Bible to be widely received, and so invited Puritan theologians (a non- mainstream grouping within the Church of England) to be a part of the translation committee. These men (I’m pretty sure no women would have got a seat!) wanted to translate the word as “congregations” rather than “church” – for two reasons (1) they felt it truer to the Greek, and (2) “church” was already associated with the structures of the existing religious hierarchies, and even then, had accumulated a lot of baggage that they felt was unhelpful. Needless to say, they lost this argument. Those in positions of power, not least James as the head of the Church of England (that goes with the King’s role), were in no mood to see the power of the church structures downgraded in such a way.

I can’t help but think that Jesus did not have in mind a monolithic structure, complete with hierarchies of popes, archbishops, bishops etc, when he said he would build his church (or his assembly). Perhaps it is easy to us non-Catholics / non-Anglicans to throw stones on this issue, but if we think about things for even a short while, we will surely question the structures that other churches – who my English friend, David, refers to as the “non-conformist”churches  (I actually find myself strangely attracted to the title) – have put in place. I guess whenever any group is created, and where some common goals are being pursued, it is almost inevitable that it will transcend (descend?) into an organisation, with levels of hierarchy (sometimes not written down, but very much there nonetheless). Then there will be those who are given positions of authority in the organisation, and whose self-esteem and worth will begin to be bound up in the organisation, and their position within it. The temptation to “lord it over others” when having such power should not be under-estimated. Perhaps that is why Jesus specifically warned us not to do so, and called for leaders to humble themselves and become servants / shepherds. We looked at this issue last Sunday. But it is easy theory, and difficult practice.

Occasionally churches have “foot-washing services” at Easter – to re-enact the example of Jesus performing a servant (slave) role for his disciples. Invariably those chosen to do the foot-washing are those of some importance in the church. In a twist of great irony those chosen to do the servant role are actually being elevated in the eyes of others. I like the practice of doing this occasionally, but it can be counter-productive to what it is attempting to show. It would be more authentic if those chosen voluntarily came early to clean the toilets before anyone else arrived (am I too cynical?)

Anyway, as I read about how Jesus dealt with the Pharisees (the church leaders of the day), I’m pretty convinced he would find equal cause for criticism within the church structures that we have built around his church in our day…. and I wonder whether Jesus is actually building his church in places we aren’t looking when we think of “church”.

So did Jesus come to start the church?   yes …. and no!

So my question is  …. Is Jesus a “Christian”? … or do we need him to be a “Christian” (ie somewhat like me – thereby reinforcing my existing belief systems). My initial question on this matter was “did Jesus come to start a new religion?” , but my new question is a little more provocative … I like it!

So is the Jesus in our minds simply the same thing as our picture of the “ideal” Christian (whatever that might be) – which we have built up from our experiences and the teachings of others? … or is he completely different? We do well to remember that Jesus had a lot of issues with the “religious people” of his day, so maybe he would have issues with us as well – especially when we think we have everything figured out, and become less open to any fresh revelation.

The word “Christian” is used only 3 times in the whole Bible (I guess its absence in the OT is not unexpected). We are informed in Acts that Jesus’ followers were first called Christians in Antioch. Paul, who spent some time there, never uses the word. One suspects that it was initially used derisively (those messiah-followers), but was later claimed as a badge of honour, as so often happens in cases where a name is coined to denigrate or belittle a certain group.

Although Jesus claimed to be the Christ (messiah), he always referred to his followers as “disciples” (those under his teaching and leadership). Regardless of the origins of the word, today “Christian” has certain connotations for people – and is certainly not the same thing for each person! So would Jesus be happy to be identified as a “Christian” – a word which has picked up a fair bit of baggage along the way? I am sure he is more than happy to identify with us as individuals and communities, as his life was one of inclusiveness (which upset the religious elites, and broke many of their taboos). But just how readily would he identify with Christianity, the religion? Did he plan for Christianity to emerge as a new, powerful religion after his ascension?

The clear thrust of Jesus’ ministry was to proclaim and demonstrate the coming of the Kingdom of God – announcing that it was “at hand” (nearby and accessible) and “within us” (not based on externals). Although the incarnation of Jesus brought a whole new dimension to the unfolding Biblical story, I can’t believe that he expected the establishment of a new religion… and all the defensiveness, exclusion and self-justification that inherently comes with this.

His criticism of the Pharisees was that they had complicated the pathway to God with a lot of unnecessary tradition, and deliberately excluded certain people from participation. I think that he we have similar issues with organised Christianity today. In particular, I think he might take issue with:

• the exclusive nature of so much of the church – effectively saying “we are right”, and you need to become “like us”. Church history shows us how this attitude has rationalised the worst of behaviour – killing those who disagree at worst, or “ex-communicating” them, and denying their right to enter the Kingdom.
• the building of our own “empires”, rather than advancing the Kingdom – a process that I think we are beginning to appreciate is much more organic, and less structured, than we thought. In so doing, we risk the same criticism that Jesus had of the Pharisees – that we put large burdens on peoples’ backs (becoming a part of our particular system) while doing little to help them enter the Kingdom (which in reality is easily accessible).
• that we still “strain out gnats, but swallow a camel” by majoring on minor issues – and separating ourselves from those who are really our brothers and sisters, over often trivial differences in understanding the message of Jesus.