Chapter 1 - Jesus and the Little People

Manifesto

 Many of the great reformers and revolutionaries and visionaries of the world have been associated with fine speeches, or with manifestos.  They often burst onto the scene with inspiring words, outlining what they’re about, what they’re going to do, and then they go ahead and do it.  That’s why they’re remembered.  Because, unlike so many politicians, their manifestos actually come true.  It’s not just words.  I think of Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr, Emmeline Pankhurst, William Wilberforce.  Each championed a particular cause, with many fine words, but these words came to fruition.

 One of the first things the Gospel writer Luke tells us about Jesus as an adult is what he said: his manifesto, his mission statement, if you like.  In Luke chapter 4, Jesus has started teaching in the synagogues of Galilee (verse 15).  It’s possible he came to be seen as a rabbi, and Luke has already told us (3:23) that “Jesus was about thirty years old when he began his work”.  That was the age when rabbis became rabbis, when they were deemed old enough to teach.  It would therefore be quite normal for Jesus to be teaching in the synagogues.  And so he comes to Nazareth, his home town.  And here, he is given the scroll of the prophet Isaiah to read from.  That, of course, is where Bibles were – at synagogue.  People didn’t have their own copy at home, or one to carry in their pockets.  Many, most, or even all Jewish children (the boys, anyway) may have memorised large portions of the Hebrew Bible.  But the hard copies were held at local synagogues.

 So, from the community Bible, Jesus reads a verse or so from Isaiah 61.  The thing is, though, it’s not exactly Isaiah 61 verse 1 as we know it.  It’s sort of a mash up.  This could be because the canon of the Old Testament wasn’t totally settled by this point, and maybe there were slight variations from synagogue to synagogue in the exact wording, or the arrangement, or the books that were included.  You could say it was a loose canon…

 Or, perhaps Jesus, an expert in the Hebrew Bible, made a medley, putting in a couple of bits from somewhere else to make a point.  The first bit that seems to have been added is the line about “recovery of sight for the blind.”  A similar line appears in the Greek version of Isaiah.  But this reads like Psalm 146:8a (“the LORD opens the eyes of the blind…”).  It’s as though Jesus is linking Isaiah 61 with Psalm 146, which is about God:

who executes justice for the oppressed; 

who gives food to the hungry. 

The LORD sets the prisoners free; ​

the LORD opens the eyes of the blind. 

​The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down; 

​ the LORD loves the righteous; 

​The LORD watches over the strangers; 

he upholds the orphans and the widows, 

but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin 

(Ps 146:7-9)

 According to Psalm 146, this God is the God of the poor and the oppressed and the excluded and the disadvantaged.  And He puts things to rights on their behalf.

 The other bit that Jesus has snuck into his reading is the line: “to let the oppressed go free”.  This is a direct quote from another part of Isaiah, 58:6.  There, the prophet is telling us about God’s chosen fast.  There’s no point, He tells the people, being religious and perfectly observing all the worship and ritual, if they don’t seek justice and look out for those in need and on the edges of society.  God asks, doesn’t the real religion I want look like this: “to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?”  It’s about sharing your bread with the hungry, inviting the homeless into your house, clothing the naked (v7)…

 Imagine, for a moment, how these words might translate today.  Fast from your pursuit of clothes made in sweatshops on the other side of the world.  Fast from using companies who avoid and evade tax that, if paid, might enable the welfare system to cope, so that schools don’t close, hospitals can treat people, and benefit sanctions aren’t thrust upon people at the drop of a hat…

 And so these two scriptures, Psalm 146 and Isaiah 58, Jesus appears to mesh with Isaiah 61, which is about God’s commission of his servant, in the power of the Spirit, to bring good news to the poor and oppressed, binding up the broken-hearted, proclaiming liberty for the captives, and proclaiming the year of the LORD’s favour…

Delivered

 All of this is like Jesus’ manifesto.  As he says, when he’s finished the reading, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing…” (Luke 4:21).

 Jesus is saying that it’s all come true.  First of all, the Spirit of the Lord is upon him – he’s God’s anointed (which is what the Greek ‘Christ’ and Hebrew ‘Messiah’ mean).  But there’s a specific angle to that: he’s sent to preach good news to the poor.  If we look at the life of Jesus, he didn’t spend all his time in palaces, or even in synagogues.  A lot of it was spent among the poor, the sick, those who were out of the loop.  The little people.  He brought them good news, in word and deed.  Many of the crowds who listened to Jesus were made up of these little people.  And Jesus, by spending time with them, sharing meals with them, healing them, transforming their circumstances, brought them good news.

 In fact, if we look at these manifesto pledges, we see that Jesus fulfils them all.  Good news to the poor.  Release to the captives (like the demon-possessed, for example).  Recovery of sight for the blind.  The oppressed go free – for instance, look at Jesus’ controversial attitude and actions towards women, certainly an oppressed group then.  He included women in his social group.  He allowed them to resource his ministry (Luke 8:1-3).

 And that final line, about the year of the Lord’s favour, that was a reference to God doing something extraordinary, the dawn of His kingdom on earth, when heaven and earth would come together… And Jesus says that today it is fulfilled.  Because in Jesus, heaven and earth come together.  God’s kingdom arrives wherever Jesus is.

The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away

 We’ve thought a little bit about what Jesus has added to Isaiah 61:1 and 2.  But what about what he’s left out.  He cuts the reading short.  It should say: “to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favour, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn…” Jesus has left out the part about vengeance.  For some of his audience, that was probably the best bit.  For them, the coming of God’s kingdom meant vengeance.  Vengeance on their enemies. God was going to sort things out, and deal with those who were opposed to him, or who weren’t part of his people Israel, or whoever it may be.  But there was definitely going to be vengeance.  It’s only fair, right?

 Yet, Jesus leaves vengeance out.  There’s not going to be any of that, he says.  That’s not how this works.  Vengeance means enemies.  And no one is God’s enemy.  He excludes no one.  That’s what Jesus is saying here.  No one is to be cut out of this picture.  Everyone should get the chance to take their place in God’s kingdom, in what he is doing.

Salvation

 There was a movement that sprung up in the 1960s called Liberation Theology.  It started in South America, in the atmosphere of the Second Vatican Council, and perhaps figure-headed by a Catholic priest called Gustavo Gutiérrez, among others.  Gutiérrez was from Peru and he ministered there.  But he found that the Western, European theological education he received didn’t work in his context.  He was living and working among some of the poorest people in the world, and a lot of the religious ideas that make sense in a fairly comfortable, educated, healthy European world, are nonsense there.  After all, Western Europe had been the masters of history, the conquistadores.  Most South Americans were oppressed, politically, economically, and in any number of other ways.  He saw that a new way of understanding God and the church and the world was needed.  He came to see God as the God of the Exodus, who is in solidarity with the poor and oppressed.  And this is not as controversial as it is often made out to be.  Let’s bear in mind that the Exodus story, so formative in the life of the Hebrews, was the story of an oppressed people being set free by a God who revealed Himself to them – God discloses the Divine Name, YHWH, to Moses – and enters into, or renews, a deep covenant relationship with them.  They were slaves.  They were what Gutiérrez and company would call ‘non-persons’, on the underside of history.

 As an aside, to an extent, all poverty is oppression.  We live in a world where for anyone to be wealthy, someone else must be poor.  God has provided enough for all of us, but we’re not always great at sharing.  Gutiérrez recognised that God was very much concerned with the affairs of this world and this life.

 And Gutiérrez spoke of the “preferential option for the poor…” .  Now, a lot of people have a problem with that.  How can God, or the church, have a preference for the poor?  After all, haven’t we noted that Jesus has said there is no vengeance in God’s kingdom.  No enemies.  

 But that’s just it.  God has a bias to the poor.  It doesn’t mean he’s against or excludes anyone else.  The fact of the matter is, Jesus was on the side of the poor because no one else was.  As he said so often, the last shall be first.  God’s kingdom is about redressing the balance.

 It’s the same today as it was then.  Jesus is still on the side of the poor and marginalised.  Those who are not in the mainstream of society.  The disadvantaged.  The exploited. The little people.  He’s on their side because society isn’t.  For instance, even though many people in poverty receive benefits, and so forth, they’re not being looked after by society.  Rather, they’re just in another form of oppression.  People need a hand up, not just hand outs.  Jesus took immediate action to help those in need – whatever need they had.  He also challenged society to change.  Both are important.  In other words, he pursued both social action and social justice.  One without the other was ineffectual.  To just keep meeting need changes nothing in the long run.  To only campaign for social justice may have long term results, but the immediate need goes unmet.

 There’s a famous adage: “Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day.  Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.”  What is perhaps missing from the saying is that, for the man to be able to fish, we sometimes have to campaign for the ‘no fishing’ sign to be removed.

 What’s also important is that for Jesus there was no distinction between the spiritual and the social.  He met people in their entirety, and they were changed.  He preached good news to the poor, at one and the same time as releasing them from captivity, and restoring their sight, and feeding them, and healing them… This is about salvation.  Restoration.  Life in all its fullness.  That’s what Jesus came to bring, to everyone, especially to the little people.  The most broken.  The last, the lost and the least.

 Some might criticise this approach, this concern for the here-and-now, everyday needs of our fellow humans, as a ‘social gospel’.  Here’s how Desmond Tutu rebuts that claim:

“I don’t preach a social gospel; I preach the Gospel, period.  The gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is concerned for the whole person.  When people were hungry, Jesus didn’t say, ‘Now is that political or social?’  He said, ‘I feed you.’  Because the goodnews to a hungry person is bread.”

 This is our heritage as The Salvation Army.  We believe in this same God of the poor, the oppressed, the excluded, themarginalised.  As William Booth said in his final public address:

“While women weep, as they do now, I’ll fight.  While little children go hungry as they do now, I’ll fight.  While men go to prison, in and out, in and out, as they do now, I’ll fight.  While there is a drunkard left, while there is a poor lost girl upon the street, while there yet remains one dark soul without the light of God, I’ll fight.  I’ll fight to the very end…”

 Today, we live in a UK with a massive rate of recidivism,men (and women?) do go to prison, in and out, in and out.

 We live in a world where little children go hungry.  Even in Britain, as the large uptake of help from Foodbanks will show.

 We live in a world where alcohol continues to cause health, economic, and social problems.

 We live in a world where prostitution and sex trafficking is still rife.  Sadly, it tends to originate in poorer countries than our own (in South Eastern Europe, Africa, Asia), but the end user is often in countries like our own.

 Women continue to weep.  And many dark souls, rich and poor, oppressed and oppressor, remain without the light of God.  So we must fight.  Fight for justice.  Fight for equality.  Fight for God’s kingdom.  Fight at the political level.  Fight with our economic choices.  Fight with our attitudes.  Fight on our knees.  These are our weapons.  We are a Salvation Army – The Salvation Army.  We fight for the salvation of all, especially the little people.

Introduction

Introduction

 This book is about people, as you will have gleaned from the title.  Which people?  First, Jesus.  Jesus is at the centre of one of the world’s great religions.  He has possibly caused more words to be spoken, read, written, crossed out, re-written, lost, found, and read all over again, than anyone else in history.  Jesus was and is a lot of things.  First century Jewish man.  A rabbi (religious teacher)?  A revolutionary?  A mystic?  A reformer?

 In my view, he’s a bit of all of these.  But more importantly, he’s both the greatest human being who has ever lived – humanity at its peak – and God.  I won’t go into how he can be both here.  But much of what many of us know or believe about Jesus comes from the four accounts of him in the gospels of the New Testament.  In this book, I will rely heavily on the first 3 of these, called Matthew, Mark, and Luke, after their traditional authors.  These three together are known as the Synoptic Gospels, because they have a similar overview.  The fourth gospel, John, has quite a different outlook in many respects.

 Jesus shapes, both forms and informs, the thinking, the life, of the Christian Church.  Therefore, Jesus is central to this book.  He is the main character, in a sense.  Yet at the same time, and in keeping with the sacrificial love and servant nature of Jesus, he also has juxtaposed himself with the other protagonists in this narrative: the Little People.

 (Just to clarify: this book is really a collection of sermons and essays, not a story.)

The Little People: Who?

 These Little People, as will become clear, are not necessarily short in stature (although some will be).  They are people often deemed of little account.  Those on “the underside of history”, the ‘least’ in society.  The excluded or outcast or marginalised or downtrodden.  The oppressed.  The “non-persons”.  The poor.  Many expressions have been variously used to capture this group, if it is legitimate to use the word ‘group’ about such a nebulous, populous and varied… group.

 In this book I have neither attempted nor achieved an exhaustive treatment of the Little People.  I simply offer some observations of Jesus’ reported interactions with the Little People in the pages of the Gospels.

The Little People: Why?

 The big question is, why?  Why write (or read) a book about Jesus and the Little People?

 Firstly, why indeed.  After all, my own reading of the Bible as a whole and the Gospels in particular, suggests that we already have a perfectly good book about Jesus and the Little People…

 Well, the present volume serves the same purpose as a sermon might: to remind and offer some interpretation of the Bible.

 This interpretation is not new.  It follows a long tradition, a tradition which gave birth to my own faith tradition, The Salvation Army.  It is a reminder of the importance Jesus placed on the Little People.  And, as indicated above, this should inform the attitudes and actions of Christians, both individually and collectively.

 In effect, this book should serve as a call to conversion: conversion to the other, the neighbour, however we may define them.  It is an invitation to turn our hearts and minds toward the other – especially toward the Little People.

Contents

Introduction

Why (should we be bothered)?

1. Jesus and the little people

2. The in crowd

3. Symbols of God’s presence

4. Beautiful feet

5. He ain’t heavy…

6. To the family of Jesus all God’s children may belong

Who (could they be)?

7. The untouchables

8. Foreigners

9. Women, know your place!

10. The elephant in the closet

11. It’s everyone’s job to make sure I’m ok

12. The Word on the street

How (should we respond)?

13. Sit down

Postscript: Tradition – it’s in our blood

Jesus and the Little People

I wrote the manuscript for a book and submitted it The Salvation Army's publishing department last year. The book is called Jesus and the Little People. The feedback was fairly positive, and the project was probably going to go to print, apart from one chapter which TSA would not publish at the moment. So, I have decided to publish the book, chapter at a time, here on my blog. Please feel free to read it. I'll probably publish a chapter per week. I start with the contents and introduction...

Structures of injustice

"It's not fair!"
We've all heard that cry. Probably from our own lips at some time or another. Behind it lies a perception (sometimes correct to a degree) that an injustice has occurred, usually befalling the complainant: someone has exerted disproportionate influence on an outcome; someone has disproportionately benefitted; someone is losing out or suffering unfairly, or wrongly. Most of us have some understanding of 'injustice'.
Let's go to 14 June 2017, to North Kensington in London. 24-storey Grenfell Tower became the Towering Inferno, claiming 71 lives, injuring as many, and rendering over 200 homeless and with very few possessions. The horror of this tragedy reduced experienced firefighters to tears.
And, although the case is not yet closed, it seems clear that the fire was aided immeasurably by the appalling state of the building's exterior cladding, which was apparently highly flammable, and attached to the structure with a small gap in between. In effect, the gap formed a flue, allowing the fire to rise very quickly through this pocket of air.
I wanted to say this was substandard, but it wasn't. That's one of the most tragic parts of the story. This poor, ultimately fatal, state of the building was actually within the regulations. The problem, rather, was the "systemic failure of regulation", according to Thomas Lane for Building Design. The cladding had been added to the building around three years earlier, as part of a refurbishment. Presumably this was cosmetic, to improve the aesthetics of the council housing block that towered above the millionaire mansions of Kensington and Chelsea, (one of) the UK's wealthiest borough(s). Grenfell was home to some of the borough's poorest residents. Among them, asylum seekers and the previously homeless. For the survivors, the wait continues for a safe and more permanent refuge.
The Grenfell residents were victims of unjust structures. Not just the physical structure they called home, but the structures in which they lived. Firstly, the 'improvements' to the building which cost so many lives cut corners and costs, and was as much for the benefit of others (who spent more time seeing the building than those on the inside). And many of these were already making significant gains in a game of life that is weighted in their favour.
Add to this the review of the regulations which allowed the fire to spread - the review has been 'on the agenda' at Westminster for some time, certainly before Grenfell, but curiously never seems to happen. As circumstance would have it, a number of those who might be involved in such a review have links with landlords, or are themselves landlords. Moves to raise standards in housing may prove costly to such people, and a government hellbent on reducing spending might not be in a hurry to improve its housing stock. If I didn't know better, I might suggest that some people have a vested interest in conditions remaining as they are. And that would be unjust for those who have to live in these conditions.
Here we hit on structures of injustice. Grenfell is a harrowing example of what unjust structures can do. I would define these as any system or structure of organisation that maintains and protects privilege and power for the few against the many, that disproportionately benefits some to the detriment of others. Such systems can be oppressive and exploitative. Other terms for this include structural/institutional violence and systemic evil.
A quick way to check how just or unjust a structure may be, is to ask, 'for whom does this work? Who gains most from the status quo, and who loses or suffers?'
I would like to suggest that some structures can be 'passive oppressive'. By this I mean that they don't seem bad - in fact they exist to perform necessary and good functions - but they are not as good as they look, often toxic below the surface. I think here of, for instance, democracies and churches. Many great and good institutions are riddled with structural violence, where a small number (usually at or near the top of the particular tree) exert an unhealthy controlling influence over the rest, and in some cases their position is, or seems, unassailable. I notice that in restructures, redundancies rarely hit the boardroom. And politicians making spending cuts, never vote to cut their own salaries.
As a (left-leaning) Christian, I like to ask more questions about systems and structures too:
"Is it life-giving, or life-stealing? Does it promote life and freedom and creativity, or death and oppression and destruction?"
And, "How easily do information, resources and people move from one layer to another within the structure?"
Before I am unmasked as a Marxist, I call to the stand the witness of scripture. In Matthew 7:13-14, Jesus lays before his audience a choice, between two gates: the narrow and the wide. I think this is often interpreted (with some merit) as a (one-off) decision between following Jesus, or not, leading respectively to heaven or hell. However, the text doesn't say that, and Jesus has mentioned hell only a few verses earlier, so why not mention it again here? Instead, Jesus talks here of life versus destruction. I think he is presenting the choice between life-promoting or death-promoting. Our decisions, every day, have consequences in one or other of those directions - and not just for us, in the immediate or eternal perspective, but for others. It's like the butterfly effect.
Later in Matthew's account (20:20-28), Jesus corrects his disciples' view of greatness. They are not to promote themselves and their interests, to "lord it over" others, but rather to serve. For Jesus, it's not about exercising power over people, but power under them.
Of course a biblical consideration of justice certainly must take in the Old Testament prophets, and as an example I refer to Isaiah 5:8-10, where God's message is for the landlords, the landowners, who squeeze others out. They'll be left with nothing, in a collapsed market. Again, in verses 18-23, those who decide what is right and wrong, to their own advantage and agenda, will also get their comeuppance.
Finally, in John 10:10, we have once again the contrast between life-giving, and life-stealing. Jesus is speaking of those with (religious) power and influence, when he says, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy..." On the other hand, Jesus continues, "I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly."
When we find ourselves in structures, wherever we find ourselves within them, let's just ask, is this facilitating life in all its fullness - like Jesus? Or is it stealing it?

Matthew, Mark, Lucy and Joan: Women in the 3rd and 4th Gospels

I'm not actually saying that Luke and John were written by women, but I have noticed in them a more pro-women stance than is evident in the other two gospel accounts, and indeed much of the bible at large.  Below are some examples I've found....
  Luke and Matthew between them furnish us with all the details of our nativity. But look at whose side they tell it from. Matthew - maybe this is a Hebrew thing - makes it all about the man, Joseph, with Mary at his mercy (remember, he plans to divorce her quietly, to spare her public disgrace, or indeed stoning!). Luke, on the other hand, majors on Mary,with barely a mention of Joseph. Mary is here cast as a heroine of faith, with her iconic Magnificat (some great women of the Old Testament also had songs, like Deborah, Hannah, Miriam), and her ready acceptance of God's will (contrast that with Zechariah, priest and, well, man).
  Strong and independent women are a feature of Luke's Gospel. Take 8:1-3, where we meet the women who support Jesus (and the disciples?) in his ministry.  Perhaps this meant providing food and shelter, opening up their homes. It also meant paying for their keep and their work. Granted, in some cases the funds were probably their husbands' (eg, Joanna).
  Perhaps the most controversial detail in Luke's treatment of women comes in chapter 10, when Jesus visits the home of sisters Martha and Mary. Again, they have opened their home, possibly offering Jesus a place to stay. Much has been said about the exchange between Martha and Jesus, and 'traditional' gender roles may be at stake here, but the most significant detail in the story is this: Mary "sat at the Lord's feet" (Luke 10:39). Let's skip ahead to Luke's second volume, Acts. In Acts 22:3, Paul tells a Jewish crowd that he was "brought up... at the feet of Gamaliel". That's a way of saying he was a student of the great rabbi Gamaliel. And the same language is used of Mary with Jesus. She is his student, his disciple. This puts her in the same category as great men like Peter, James and John.
  That brings us to the 4th Gospel which, as we might expect, takes a more "theological" angle in its treatment of women, and there are two examples I want to look at. The first is short and simple. In John 11, we read the cycle of the illness, death and raising of Lazarus. Lazarus had two sisters, Martha and Mary (yes, them). But the striking detail in this account is what Martha says in 11:27. The other 3 gospels, known as the Synoptic Gospels because they see (broadly) the same way, each have accounts of 'Peter's Confession of Christ'. They tell it with slight nuances of detail, but in all 3 Peter says that Jesus is the Christ or Messiah, adding "of God" (Luke 9:20), or "the Son of the living God" (Matthew 16:16). John, as so often, departs from this tradition. In John, it's not Peter who makes this confession. It's the equally headstrong woman, Martha: "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah [or, Christ], the Son of God, the one coming into the world."
  The final point I want to pick up is big. It's all about Easter Sunday. Rob Bell has pointed out that John is keen to tell us Easter Sunday happens in a garden, and the risen Jesus is mistaken by Mary Magdalene for the gardener. It seems that this whole episode is re-creation, it's Genesis again, in a new garden of Eden. And Jesus is the new Adam, made perfect and complete. And that makes Mary the new Eve. But this time, instead of being cast as the harbinger of sin and death (that's all pinned on Eve in Genesis 3)' the bringer of bad news - she is now the bearer of good new, the Good News, of life and salvation, as Jesus sends her out with the message. She's the first one to proclaim the resurrection in John. And so Eve, the woman, is redeemed.
  Finally, then, to summarise, from Luke and John we can suggest that women are as much a part of salvation history as men (logically that's a no-brained, if we take salvation history as involving a people or a family); that women, even married women, can not just support and resource, but actually fulfill any ministry in the church; that women can and should be disciples to the same extent as men, with the ministry and mission implications that entails; and, that longstanding efforts to silence and oppress women on the basis of Eve's sin in Genesis are not valid, not theologically sound, and have no place in the church and in God's new creation.

Polls apart

Over the last 3 years, I count 6 votes that have affected me (5 in this country, in which I voted, one overseas, in the United States). I think only one of these actually went my way. In the other five, the outcome was not what I wanted, not what I anticipated, or both. In fact, in some cases, the result was a shock. I was shocked at the lurch to the Right evidenced by some of these polls. I felt the world a more divided and dangerous place after some of the results. Yes, I was shocked.

But a comedian - those great observers and commentators - on a topical panel show rightly pointed out that liberals have been shocked and disappointed by the outcomes of recent votes mainly because they are out of touch with people who vote the opposite way. The truth is, we often live in echo chambers, where we are soothed and affirmed by voices and views similar to our own. We read papers or media that mirror our beliefs. And this isolates and insulates us, increasingly, from diverse opinions and attitudes. It leaves us with, at best, grotesque caricatures of those elsewhere on the spectrum. And I get the sense that this is exactly what someone wants, as though some force or movement is trying to divide and polarise society, penning us in, apart, adrift, from one another. It's like we are being cast away onto islands, with a expanding sea in between. And that sea, it seems, represents fear, suspicion, misunderstanding.

It's perhaps not unlike the sea might have appeared to the Hebrew mind. When we look at Palestine, 'The Holy Land', on a map, we will notice it has a considerable coastline. Yet, the Hebrews don't seem to have ever been seafaring. In fact, if you read the Bible, the sea is usually presented in negative terms, as a home to fierce monsters, the scene of shipwrecks, terrible storms, raging and foaming. Lands across the sea, or islands, are portrayed as being very far off, almost unreachable. I get the sense that the sea, for the Hebrews, also represented fear, suspicion, misunderstanding.

I think the way to cross our sea, to close these fissures in our society, and in our electorate - between us - is to engage one another, in dialogue, in journey, and in action too. We want things to change, let's see what we can agree on and work toward... Only in this way can we begin to understand each other's points of view. The apparently prevalent division and lack of understanding and respect for the other, takes us further away from God's kingdom vision, not closer to it.

In Revelation 21, the penultimate chapter of the New Testament, we read of a beautiful image of the new heavens and the new earth, and in this state of affairs, "the sea was no more". With no more sea, we don't need to be cut off from one another. There will be no more islands. Less to divide us. We simply step from here to there. And in doing that, we discover common ground.

Our lowest common denominator is (stating the obvious) that we are all human beings, made in the image of God, with the potential for greatness, individually but also collectively. How, then, do we work together, with the system or against it, to ensure fairness for all, to facilitate human flourishing? That, it seems to me, must be my response in the wake of any poll, irrespective of the outcome: how do I, how do we, work for God's purposes now, in this new context? The political climate was far from favourable for the earliest Christians, yet they stood their ground, dug in, and even made strides, in their missionary endeavours.
So, with a snap general election fast approaching, in the midst of a political maelstrom, I vote that we who dare to take the name of Christ work with him as he brings heaven and earth - and all who live in it - a little bit closer together.