summer solstice and John the Baptist [Sel's Swift Sermon series]

It's just past Summer Solstice here in Sydney: three days to Christmas 2020.

Sydney is in the throes of a COVID resurgence with restrictions on gathering and travelling for everyone in the Greater Sydney area - right before Christmas. Jupiter and Saturn are converging in the skies of Earth, and yesterday was the Summer Solstice down here in the Southern Hemisphere. It was cloudy and rainy and really not very summery at all. And, unfortunately, my usual group of friends who celebrate the sun seasons with a garden gathering and food and friendship had to forgo our Solstice gathering because of the COVID resurgence taking place in Sydney. We'll pick it up later, during the holiday season or possibly January.

But the Summer Solstice always makes me think of John the Baptist.

In the northern hemisphere, Litha - the Summer Solstice - is traditionally the birthday feast of Saint John the Baptist. There's two reasons for this - John the Baptist, cousin to Jesus Christ through their mothers, was born six months earlier, and since the celebration of Jesus' birth - Christmas - is at the Winter Solstice, the feastday of John is at the Summer Solstice, six months earlier.

The other reason is John's purpose in life: to prepare the way for the coming of the Messiah.

There's a moment in the gospels some time after John has baptised Jesus, when his disciples are watching people gather to Jesus now - a new and greater teacher to follow - and they're anxious and worried. But when they take their concerns to John, asking him to do something about the loss of disciples and his words are simply, "As He increases, so must I decrease."

John understood his place in the scheme of things. He understood transitions. He understood that he had to give up what scraps of pride or social standing he had gained, because he wasn't the Main Event, he was just the Warm-Up Act. Not the King, but merely the herald of one greater than himself, whose sandals he was not fit to tie.

And so, at the Summer Solstice, the days are the longest, and will slowly grow shorter and shorter, until we reach the longest night - Winter Solstice - when a dark world is lit up by the star of incarnation: deity become humanity, very nature God become very nature man.

As He increases, so must I decrease.

This can be harder to comprehend this in the Southern Hemisphere when our summer solstice is mere days away from our celebration of Christmas - or maybe easier - because the summer solstice also arrives before Christmas: heralding the coming of God. And the message has not changed over 2000 years.

Give up your old ways, make a public stand, trust in a God who came in human form - not to rule over us, not merely to bestow knowledge or a kinder way of living, but to serve us in love and the sacrifice of not only his life but his living for those he loved.

As He increases, so must we decrease.

It holds true for us, as much as for John the Baptist.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, a generous and bountiful solstice, and a Happy New Year to all of us.

assorted thoughts: failings of the western church

I wonder sometimes; do other Australian Christians see the faint echoes of themselves in the extreme of American Christianity? Or am I the only one?

Do they look at the well-worn warnings of "well, you can't trust the leftist, liberal media!" and not see that echoed in their dismissal of anything the ABC reports?

Do they look at the obsession with a leader who 'will take them to righteousness' and not see the echoes of "our Scott Morrison, defender of the Christian faith in (godless) Australia"?

Do they look at the obsession with our position, our standing, ourreputation, our freedoms and not see that echoed in the outrage that businesses can open and churches cannot, that children can have LGBTQIA explained to them in schools, that we can't functionally behave like nobody else's beliefs matter?

People are often bewildered by my interest in American politics.

The Americans are disdainful that anyone should care what they do; it's their country, they can do what they like! They have rights! Responsibility of leadership? Well, yes, they're leaders, but they don't do responsibility.

Australians, I think, side-eye me, because "well, they're just crazy in America". And yes, they are. I said once: "Hong Kong foams at the mouth; China foams in the brain." It was a Pterry reference, differentiating between 'mad' and 'insane'. These days, I'm more likely to think "China foams at the mouth, while America foams in the brain".

But America is our canary in the coal mine. Socially, politically, and, yes, spiritually. The faults and flaws of American Christianity are ones that we have in Australia - less dramatic, perhaps, but still there. Our reluctance to acknowledge racial divide, our unwillingness to concede our privilege, our inability to connect with people outside the faith in a spiritually meaningful way because we demand they come to us, on our ground - both physical ground of the church, and the spiritual ground of a Christian underpinning... These are all problems in the American churches and they are also problems in the Australian church, just in different dimensions.

The 'church of God' across the nations will survive this year, our lives, our family lines, our culture, and this earth. It may not survive it with the trappings of what we recognise as 'church' today - but how much would the Christians of the first and second centuries recognise our version of 'church', either?

I love my church and my church people, but I don't know how well we know how to 'reach' people outside our area. How to love them and let our love speak. And yes, we will eventually need to use words - when necessary - but I'm starting to think that the words should be employed later and later and only at a timely point.

I saw my cousin J last week while I was up visiting him in the NT. On his 40th birthday, we went to a couple of National Park pools and waterfalls and swam while a thunderstorm crackled overhead. It was amazing and awe-inspiring. And at one point, I turned to J and said, "You guys don't do church, do you? But do you remember that verse: The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim his works?" He remembered the hymn. I said it was a verse first, then added, "That's what I'm thinking of sitting here. The glory of God. Thanks for bringing me out here."

We turned the conversation after that, but a small dose of reminder was all I thought was needed at this time. I think his younger brother is still a believer, his older brother converted to Islam for his wife. And I have a vague memory that the younger brother castigated the older for converting. So the boys aren't close and there may be religious rifts. So I didn't think this was the right time.

We're still in the reconnection stage of things anyway: friendly and appreciated, but not close. Hopefully opportunities will come in future; I hope so.