Saturday 15 April 2017

Mary, Wife of Cleopas - Part 2

Mary, Wife of Cleopas (of Emmaus)

Part 2

Where is home
when there is no longer heart?
How shall we return
to try to live as if anything could be the same?
Our hearts are destitute with broken shards…
Sorrow upon sorrow,
Grief upon grief,
Tears upon tears…
What is left?

Where will this road take us?
Will Emmaus still be the Lord’s,
when Rome has stamped itself
upon our most sacred of stories
and our rites and rituals?
Our hearts drift
between frustration and anger…
Where is our help
when we long to strike back?
Blow after blow,
kick after kick,
Strike after strike…
Where is hope?

Who is this stranger?
He knows so little of the last days.
Then he reframed our story.
He went back – teaching,
explaining slowly,
so we could follow.
Our hearts burned
with wonder and delight
to find a rabbi whose message
was full and rich and life-giving…
Here was good news!
Insight upon insight,
Hope upon hope,
Joy upon Joy…
Give us more?

What more can you tell us?
Sup with us, please.
Gift us with your presence.
We would have more of this good news.
Our hearts sang with delight
when he accepted our hospitality.
Then we arrived in Emmaus
and I prepared the meal.
We asked him for a blessing
and then we realized
the hospitality was his…
Bread of His Body,
Cup of His Covenant,
Life from His Death…
Eternity revealed.

(Luke 24:13-35)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Friday 14 April 2017

Mary Magdalene

Approaching the Tomb

Mary of Magdala

It is quiet.
Away from the weeping
and the brokenness of home.
The Sabbath was so difficult.
How could we pray the prayers of adoration?
We did, but choking on the words
And despairing at the responses.
The candles seemed foreign.
They are defiant symbols here now.
Our life, our hope, our heritage –
All seems lost in the Roman hell,
Where even our own
Turn their backs on the Lord.
So much for John’s words of repentance!

Carrying the aromatics,
I stumble along.
I wonder if he knew I would do
this one last act for him?
I hope he drew some comfort
from our love, from knowing
we stayed to the end.

Who walks among the tombs?
It is not Joseph the Arimithean…
Only gravediggers and gardeners around here.
I feel like telling them to “go away”
and leave us in quiet,
But I fear we may need help with the stone.
It was heavy and took strength to put in place.
I keep my eye out to see if the poles are there
To help us leverage that rock.

Behold! It is rolled aside!
No – my Lord – who has desecrated your resting?
We approach and discover he is gone.
This holy hole is empty and bereft,
Much like our spirits.

I must find Peter.
He will know what the Lord would want.
Peter and the others return with me.
Their eyes see what I have seen.
They run away and leave me there.

I start to sob.
A couple of gasps at first.
Then the weeping comes.
My body shakes
with the anger and frustration
of this moment and of all the moments
of the last days.
Every fibre of my being is shaking
with the torment.
Is there any way to honour him now?

“Woman, why are you weeping?” comes the voice.
What would the gardener know of this pain?
What would he know?
What might he know
Of who has been here?
Perhaps he can help.

“They have taken away my Lord,
and I do not know where they have laid him,”
I pushed out, in between sobs.
I was prepared to plead, hoping he knew.
The voice belonged to a man who repeated,
“Woman, why are you weeping?
Whom are you looking for?”
I tried to beg him,
“Sir, if you have carried him away,
tell me where you have laid him,
and I will take him away.”
Then, he spoke again, saying my name.
“Mary!”
My breathing stopped.
My tears stilled.
The my body erupted as I cried out to him,
“Rabbouni!”
He stepped back,
not letting me touch him yet,
claiming his time was still coming.
I could not reach and I could not move.
Now… it didn't matter.
Lazarus was not the only body to rise.
Today the Lord has changed all things.
Today life is different.
Today is the beginning of the rest of time.

(Matthew 28:1, Mark 16:9, Luke 24:1-12, John 20:1-18)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Thursday 13 April 2017

Martha of Bethany - Last Dinner

Last Dinner

Martha of Bethany

“Martha served.”
All I will be remembered for is my cooking.
My recipes have been passed on
from generation to generation,
and are now in my care.
My hospitality is my service to the Lord.
It is wrong to undervalue it.
Without my service,
there would have been no setting
for the dramas you now recollect every year.

That dinner was special…
There were no photos –
and I forget what we ate!
It was, however, the scene
of my sister’s sorrowing.
Her intuition confounded me.
She tended to him and I
tended to their witnesses.
This would become a story,
easily forgotten by most
and commemorated by others.

The smell of my fresh bread
and the aromas of the spices
disappeared when the nard was opened.
It was intoxicating and shocking.
I held my breath when I realized
what she was doing.
All I could think of was –
how right she was…
my sister – the prophet.

(John 12)

(C) 2017, A Koh-Butler

Wednesday 12 April 2017

Mary of Bethany - Betrayal

Betrayal

Mary of Bethany

Critical voices surfaced after the miracle.
What did they think? -
that our brother was a zombie?
Or a ghost?

We decided to prove otherwise,
by hosting a resurrection dinner.
He would stay, of course,
Jerusalem gets so crowded at this time of year
and he had a mostly crew with him.
Yes – we would host a dinner
to prove Lazarus is really alive…
To prove resurrection of body is possible.
Only One with power over life and death
could have done this thing.

Many came to believe,
Others did not -
They said they were paying respects,
but now we know…
They went ‘to tell on us’
like children ‘dobbing’.
Why?
What did they have to gain?

When they muttered and left,
we realized where they were going.
I had a premonition
and went to collect the rest of the nard
I had purchased for my brother’s burial.
I now knew what it was for…

(John 11:46-47)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Monday 10 April 2017

Mary, wife of Cleopas of Emmaus (i)


Mary, wife of Cleopas (i)

Woman from Emmaus

What is a respectful distance?
Far enough not to hear
the struggle for breath?
Far enough not to see
the perspiration trickle down the tortured frame?
Or far enough to avoid
the kicks and beatings of the soldiers.

What is this dehumanizing
that comes with colonizing this empire?
What bile arises as we watch and grieve
for goodness hanging there? -
One day an artwork, to hang upon a wall?
This is not decorative, nor entertaining.

What is achieved?
The desire is terror…
to plant such fear within us
that his broken body
becomes our broken spirit.
How can anyone, even a prophet,
choose this?

What is my role,
but to bear witness to this darkness?
I would not let Cleo come,
for all the followers are in danger.
All of us fear to make the choice
that would draw us on so black a path.
I bade him hide
and I will bear the news to him
when it is done.

What does it mean
to be among such a crowd of women?
Our word means nothing in court of Law,
yet we are the ones to watch
and tell the eternal story of hate, and love,
of suffering and death.

(John 19:25)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Sunday 9 April 2017

Mary and Martha of Bethany

Martha and Mary of Bethany

Palm Sunday

We went together with him
to Jerusalem.
(It was the time of gathering
at the Temple.)
On the way, he sent ahead
and there was a donkey.
(It was one of those brownish ones
and seemed friendly and calm.
It needed to be…
the crowds were noisy and excited
And they all wanted a piece of him.)
They called out and cheered.
Then, someone threw down his cloak
in front of the donkey -
and then others joined in…
cloaks, scarves, wraps….
lining the pilgrim’s route…
greeting him.
Others, who wanted to join in,
Stripped the palm trees  of their branches,
Laying the fronds down in criss-crossed patterns –
A green ‘red carpet’.
Some, took the palms and waved them,
Calling out and hailing him.

He rode in with dignity
And such love in his eyes.
It was hard to watch,
For we were fearful.
(So many things to fear these days.)

He went into the Temple.
And after he had pretty much caused a riot,
He got out of there so quickly,
We all missed him.

We went home…
And there he was…
Preparing the veggies for dinner…
So we both sat at his feet
And we all had a good laugh!

(Matthew 21:1-17)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Saturday 8 April 2017

Salome (Mother of Zebedee's sons)

Salome
The Mother of Zebedee’s sons (Tending Dying)

I tried to support them.
They clung to me as we walked.
When we came to the place.
We stopped and stood.
His mother was praying,
Incomprehensible moans.
Magda simply fell to the ground,
Still clutching my robe.

I came with them,
but told my sons to go into hiding.
I cannot imagine what Mary feels.
Could I bear this… this torture?
Throughout history, women
have seen their sons and husbands die.
Girlfriends have mourned
the lost potential of their dreams.

Is this the lot of women -
To tend the dying and the dead?
I can prepare myself
for the passing of my own generation,
but not my sons – Lord no!
Let this not be my lot.
Let my James and John be safe.
Protect them, O Lord.

This poor boy…
So diligent in his prayers,
So faithful in his healing,
So wise in his teaching.
How can he be so hated?
How can this violence exist?
His steps to reach here
were so tormented.
His broken skin and pained face…
His eyes were almost empty
with focus and carrying shame.

But what shame could he carry?
the shame of violence and hate?
He touched people –
with hand and voice.
He spoke of love
and showed us how.
He traveled the country
reaching out to ordinary
and the unclean.

Now – he is the unclean
And there is nothing we can do
to bring him comfort or relief.
We pray for a swift end…
For moments of calm
In this nightmare.
Let it end.
Please God.
Let him find peace.

(Matthew 27:55-56) 
NRSV 27:55 Many women were also there, looking on from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee and had provided for him. 56 Among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.

  © 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Bent-over Woman

The Bent-over Woman

That is how they know me…
“The Bent-over woman”
Never mind, I wasn't always that way.
I used to be tall and graceful and lovely,
Or so my aunties said.
Being bent involves
never looking directly at anyone,
Peering instead with a sideways twist.
Being bent involves different choices:
I can cook over a low fire,
but I cannot reach the clothes line.
I see the world at a different angle.
People speak over mr – literally.
I have to think about where I am going
And what time I am going there
As I cannot see in front of myself easily.
So, I plan ahead.

Going to the Synagogue on the Sabbath
Took a lot of planning.
No one expected me there.
No one expected me to walk out,
straight and tall, either.
They argued about the Sabbath,
But I just needed to see him…
The Healer.
I would have done or promised anything
And he asked for nothing.
I will honour him forever.

(Luke 13:10-17)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Thursday 6 April 2017

Dorcas

Dorcas 

Carer for Widows

Come to the Gazelle OpShop!
I have made new clothes for you.
Do not stay at home, mourning your men.
Come! Be gowned with cloth of love.
Come! Be blessed, for we are here for you.
Do not be distressed! Find company here.
Here the widows are welcome.
For you are the daughters of God.

I will make you a new dress…
One to wear to market and town.
I will tailor it to fit your form,
For you are beloved of God.


Dorcas means Gazelle
(Acts 9:36-42)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Sermon (Chinese New Year Feb 5, 2017) – Darkness and Light in the Year of the Rooster

Happy New Year! Gung Hey Fat Choi

It is Chinese New Year - the Year of the Rooster
Earlier this week, I attended a Retreat.
- One of the questions my work team discussed was:
Do we regard our world as deeply sinful and our only hope is in the new heaven and new creation? Or do we regard Creation as essentially good, but in need of restoration and healing?
- Our perception of what is around us changes how we behave…

It has an impact on whether we regard anything or anyone as ‘beyond redemption’… or whether we look for ‘that which is good’…
How we are brought up, and what questions we pose and spend time on, shapes our world-views. Our world-views help us to categorize ideas and behaviours. We may see something as normal or antisocial. We regard some things as counter-cultural. Sometimes we regard the counter-cultural act as the prophetic one – the behaviour that challenges people to rethink their world-view with spiritual enlightenment.
Much religious searching is about this quest for enlightenment.
We seek ‘higher truth’.
We hope for a sacred path – a holy way for our pilgrimage in life.
We yearn for ‘the way – the truth – the life’.
I have, at times, had the opportunity to try to explain what being a Christian means to me, having come from a Chinese-Buddhist background.

For Chinese, there is a habit of taking bits of many philosophies and theories to make whatever works…
According to Yin-Yang Theory, everything in the universe is composed of two opposing, but deeply interconnected forces: yin (feminine, dark, and negative) and yang (masculine, light, and positive). These two forces deeply support and nourish each other, and cannot exist without the other.

I can explain that Buddhist-style Meditation and emptying often has a goal of letting go of self and embracing otherness. In allowing self-focus to fade, we have the opportunity to see freshly that which is denied by our obsession with self. Enlightenment is the possibility of seeing freshly and completely – being able to truly comprehend that which is beautiful, true and sacred. I explain, then, that for me, Jesus Christ… or revelation made possible in Jesus Christ, brings Light.
In Jesus Christ is the Enlightenment of the World.

O Lord – enlighten us – that we might see Truth!

Such a plea for enlightenment often haunts us as we struggle with complex ideas. One of the more complex ones recently has been exploring the Church’s response to what is happening in society around marriage. At the last Assembly, in 2015, I co-authored a paper proposing methods for how the Church might address questions about marriage. Last year, I was asked to flesh this out a bit for the Assembly Standing Committee. What I offered them was not a position on marriage, but a way of approaching who is in the conversation.

My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a 2002 Canadian-American romantic comedy film written by and starring Nia Vardalos and directed by Joel Zwick. The film is centered on Fatoula "Toula" Portokalos, a Greek American woman who falls in love with a non-Greek upper middle class "White Anglo-Saxon Protestant" Ian Miller.

When I first joined the Uniting Church's  National Multi and Cross-cultural Reference Group (2009), we would meet for a few days and would always have at least one movie night.
On these evenings, we usually watched a film that had some cross-cultural themes.
One of the films was ‘My big fat Greek wedding’.

There is a great scene, when Toula explains to her aunt that Ian is vegetarian.

Her response illustrates her worldview…

[upon learning Ian is a vegetarian] What do you mean, you don't eat no meat? [The entire room stops, in shock. We hear plates break and there are gasps.] ...That's okay, that's okay. I make lamb.

This is not as silly as it sounds.
Take my husband, when in Spain:
He would ask for a vegetarian salad and would be served with a tuna salad.
For the Spanish, vegetarian meant no red meat, but they simply could not conceive of someone only eating vegetables… it was not part of their world-view.

One of my younger staff,who has been doing project work for us in the Justice area, just got back this week from her first ever trip overseas. Talking with her on Friday, her enthusiasm was contagious.
“There is so much to learn and discover!” She said. “I can’t wait to go again!”

Yet, this past week, at the retreat… several of us also talked about some of our concerns about world travel. In an era of Post-Truth, of manufactured vilification and racism, of hate-speech and condoning of societal violence, we should be concerned.
There are today people who, on the one hand, claim their righteousness before God, while still waving “the wicked fist”… “pointing the finger”… “speaking evil”.
The Isaiah passage this week provides the list of contrasts, confronting us with the dilemma of knowing evil masquerades as goodness and, to our shame, we sometimes do not even know when we are colluding with it.
O Lord – enlighten us – that we might see Truth!

We have a friend who runs a local café… our friend is Aussie-Indian and he married a beautiful young Indian woman.
While the couple regarded themselves as married and they were recognised under Australian law, they travelled to India, getting married in the eyes of the bride’s family.
Until this ceremony and the blessings of family had occurred, her family could not feel they were really married.

This is a common issue among many Asian families, particularly Indonesian (but also some Korean), where wedding ceremonies and legal contracts are merely precursors to the real aspect of marrying which involves the blessings and union of families.

In still other cultures, such as some traditional Chinese, the marriage is not considered to be enacted until a child has been born. While this may seem strange to us now, it is not so very different from an era where marriages could be annulled if there was no progeny.

Blended marriages have been around for a long time. In recent decades, the Uniting Church in Australia has had to reconsider how to encourage families whose building blocks have been inter-denominational , interfaith  or intercultural . Such marriages have often been criticised or denigrated in Australian society, with politicians sometimes referring to the mixed children of these couples as mongrels  or half-caste . I am one of these children. Some of us call ourselves “hyphenated”…

As I engage with others, it is helpful for me to reflect first on who I am and call this to awareness. By knowing my own story, I become less threatened. My own identity does not need to be threatened as I seek to offer hospitality to the stories of others. I can listen and become comfortable with stories sitting alongside each other, rather than needing to dominate dialogue.

Questions for self-reflection could include:
1. What is my sense of identity?
2. How much of this has been shaped by my family situation?
3. What other factors shape my world-view?
4. Do I own or identify with particular values, beliefs or theological positions?
5. How do those closest to me perceive me?

Last time I was here – two weeks ago – I disclosed a fair bit of personal background information about myself. A preacher will sometimes do that to open up the possibility that you might trust me enough to hear some ideas or concepts from me that might arise from my different life experience. In Christian community, it is when we take the time and make the opportunity to share more deeply with one another that we create opportunities for corporate spiritual growth.

Coming from a hyphenated identity of blended cultural influences, I resonate with diverse people centring on Christ, rather than fitting narrow exclusive criteria. We need to discard outdated principles, where church growth was linked with members being from similar social, ethnic or cultural background . Donald McGavran’s work was shaped by reflecting on mission in village settings where missionaries had to cross cultures to proclaim the gospel. He found people preferred to become Christians without leaving their bounded sets or crossing cultural boundaries.

In a contemporary pluralistic urban setting, where gospel proclamation is situated in-between and among multiple cultures, it is more helpful to recollect the early church, where Jews and Gentiles heard the gospel together (Acts 2:5-11, 11:19-21, 13:16, 26). The church grew across culturally-bounded sets and overcame cultural barriers between people groups . People needed to learn to cross cultures at home.

The household table is often perceived to be hosted by a dominant culture group.
Often, the people who are most unaware of a dominant culture are the ones who feel completely at home with it. People of dominant culture often desire to be hospitable to guests, going out of their way to make minority people feel welcomed and cared for.

This can work very well when we visit each other’s homes and enter into each other’s lives. Knowing my own sense of place and personhood allows me the confidence to take a seat at the table of conversation. When others start to stereotype me or make assumptions about my identity, I am equipped to be able to share some of my own ‘home’ story to move beyond the stereotype into the reality that will enable us to relate. In this way, we can begin to feel ‘at home’ with each other.

Where hospitality becomes a caricature is where a dominant culture group assumes the role of Host at Christ’s table. Who is this Host, who determines normative behaviour, by their own cultural standards, when the feast of Heaven is for all? Developing identity confidence helps me to resist dominant culture put-downs and challenge oppressive assumptions. Knowing and articulating the validity of my own story allows me to place it humbly beside the other stories I will learn to respect. It is a way of respecting myself and being able to show respect for others by being prepared to share.

This is what it means for us to come to the table today. Our stories are not identical… our experiences are sometimes vastly different, but we can only embrace the depth and wonder of this community when we embrace the complexity of our difference. When we fail to provide space for gracious appreciation of difference, we fail to be the vibrant community God calls us to be.

In the words of the psalmist (112:4)
We are called together to rise in the darkness as a light for the upright; to be gracious, merciful, and righteous.
to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?


O Lord – enlighten us – that we might see Truth!

Lois

Lois of Lystra

This is more of a monologue than a poem.
It could be used as part of a reflective service.

(Timothy’s Nana reflects)
___________________________

Ah – to be a mother!
Today I luxury in grandmother hood
No less difficult than how it came to be:
All hell broke loose that day -
When headstrong Eustace begged to wed.
A Greek marry a Jewess?
What of the purity of our faith?
How can purity survive Empire?

These are changing times…
Times of a new world order…
Times when lion and lamb and Greek and Jew
Lie down together!
No Hansonism in this household!

Wed, she did.
But, by what rites of compromise –
No-one really happy at mixed marriage.
We raised the cup of thanksgiving
And greedily ate olives…
Care was taken not to offend,
But mistakes were made
And forgiven.

When young Timmy came along
His father balked at the Covenant’s cut.
What would my husband have said?
We will never know.

When the Pharisee Followers spoke
We listened.
Stories of invitation
Brought us to waters of life.
Our heads were turned…
Timmy’s too.
A new Covenant did not the old rite require
But a washing and drowning and birthing
Symbol of water
Held blessing instead.

Eustace asked for my blessing…
What need a blessing?
I am coming with you.
We went to the waters together
Little knowing young Timmy’s call.
He grew in his prayers,
Deep and rich and full of life.
He cared for the poor and the widow.
He studied the prophets.

Then the Pharisee Follower came
And Timmy went with him.
A grandmother wonders at the world,
The future, the generations to come…
Little Timmy has been a good boy
And now he serve higher purpose.
I wonder at his life…
Visiting far away places.
I worry at his life…
Drawing attention from Rome.
I pray for this life and the next.
Amen….

(Acts 16:1 and 2 Timothy 1:5)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Monday 3 April 2017

Eve

First Lady

Eve

Mother of mothers, grandmother of all -
I will ever make the best apple sauce.
Marketers beware, this sauce sells:
A hissing whisper gave me the recipe,
So I pass it on to you,
what I have been entrusted with –
Gifting nana’s finest treasure.

Sexy matriarch, naïve seductress,
Such are the images, my portraits depict.
They do not show my talents and skills
For I was chosen to tend a garden,
And oh, how that garden grows!
Few imagine companion planting -
Weaving creation’s luscious design.
 
From those fronds I wove a garment
When we were kicked out from our home.
I copped the blame for Adam’s sin.
His action, my shame…?
What’s the matter with this picture -
Where he confesses my deceit, not his own?

Alas, for my garden, hidden in legend,
Known in my memory, fading to dim.
Alas, for its promise and its protection.
We miss the shelter of its delights.
Now we’ve been opened to wider creation.
Now we must tend to a wondrous wild.
Beyond the garden is land’s ancient dreaming.
Here the aunties and mothers come into their own.
In every cave, in every bush dwelling,
Mothers will bring forth all human life.

(Genesis 2-3)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Woman of Endor

Necromancer - Tending Death

Endor’s Witch?

Specialist in grief and loss,
My counsel sought by highest king.
I hid my shingle for his fear,
Lest Yahweh’s blessing be withheld.
What outrage that he comes here now?
Demands my persecutor’s speech!
He seeks a word beyond that grave
Which he himself may soon call home.

He longs for comfort, signs of hope,
Believing in this mother's mercy.
What mercy did he spare for me
And for my work with those who grieve?
Ministry of presence, not often understood.
Yet, wordless courage, shared, allows
Unburdening in company -
And who would not seek such release?

My followers will be condemned,
Just as I am labeled ‘witch’.
They will be stoned and set to flame,
Tho’ their calling comfort gives.

(1 Samuel 28)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Anna

Anna  

This piece is ideally read by women from different generations.

As a girl, I nursed a doll.
It was made of homespun,
stuffed with sawdust.
We wondered at the world.
You may say my world was small,
But it contained plenty of hopes.
My doll and I -
We made dreams together.

As a maid, I nursed my broom.
I pushed and I flung it
at the corners of my world.
I wondered when the corners
would be those of my own.
But the place where I dwelt
contained my story of kin.
We made our name together.

As a woman, I nursed my home.
It suckled at my breast
entreating me to define the world.
My household looked to my definition
Of how we would understand the world.
But my hearth welcomed
Promises yet to come.
We prayed our longing together.
As I’ve aged, now full of years,
I wondered what was still left for me to do.
What still calls me in this world?
What glory waits for my attention?
I have seen disintegration of social fabric.
But occupied Jerusalem begs relief,
Messiah promised for us all.
We wait with expectation.

As a prophet, here I see
salvation in a newborn child.

(Luke 2:36-38)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Sunday 2 April 2017

Mary and Lazarus (Tending Death - Part 2)

Tending Death (Mary)

I prepare the water steeped in fragrant herbs
And cannot tell - is this the water
From the place of our baptism?

I pass the towel, soaked and fresh
To wipe the signs of life and death
Away from carcass remnants.

I hold his arm as my sister cleans
And we both move in dance like caresses
Remembering better days and hours.

I weep. She mutters.
She bids me stay and tend, hurrying away...
I know not where to... or to whom...

(John 11:1-45)



(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler