It is a truism that a picture is worth a thousand words. When we open a newspaper we see an image captured by a photographer; chosen to do more than 'share' that captured moment; but to evoke powerful emotions. It was the image of a dead toddler on a beach that shocked us into responding to the human impact of the refugee crisis; this morning front pages carried a celebratory shot of members of the Welsh rugby team reacting to victory, marking a sensational night of glory.
The centre page of The Guardian on a Saturday is devoted to images from across the world, capturing that week's news. Last week, this 'Eyewitness' section was devoted to 'The pope on tour'. Pope Francis riding down Fifth Avenue; nuns waving and smiling to greet his arrival at St Patrick's Cathedral; meeting Fidel Castro at his home in Havana; meeting with Barack Obama at the White House; and finally an image of dozens of Congress staff, smartphones held aloft, trying to capture a picture, trying to hold a moment, taking selfies proving that they were there. Would we capture the photo and miss the moment or miss the photo and become captivated by the moment?
Photograph: Vincenzo Pinto/AFP/Getty Images
The Guardian
Pope Francis has captivated the world's media this week in a particularly intense way: images captured his presence but it was his words that captured our attention. He set out a bold vision of social responsibility. He challenged a nation's representatives to defend and preserve the dignity of their citizens, particularly those in situations of vulnerability and risk.
He began by drawing our attention to Moses. We are called to do the same this evening as we reflect on Exodus 24. Pope Francis reminds us that Mose is the patriarch and lawgiver of the people of Israel. In his words, 'he symbolizes the need of peoples to keep alive their sense of unity by means of just legislation'. On the other hand, Moses is, as Pope Francis expresses it one who 'leads us directly to God and thus to the transcendent dignity of the human being'.
Moses is called to draw near to God. He does so alone. Yet he is surrounded by others who continue to worship. He is a leader; leading us to God. He faces the holiness of God. He glimpses the glory. Yet such glory is like fire. Fire gives energy, warmth and light; it consumes and refines. To be called upon to wait in the presence of such holiness transforms us. Holiness is the nature of God. It is other, transcendent, compelling.
Our worship is our mountain top. Here we glimpse God's character in the beauty of music and silence; in the repeated sound of glory; in the repeated words of blessing; in the repeated joy, justice, trust and light of the Magnificat and Nunc Dimitis. What we glimpse we are called to receive; what we receive we are called to share.
Moses is called to tell the people the words of the Lord. The commandments and ordinances, which we too are called to love, are God's communication to us. God calls us away from violence, deceit, envy and a desire to possess what is not ours. God calls us to love of him; to love our neighbour as ourselves. This is the way of holiness. We too are called to the pursuit of justice and mercy; compassion and generosity.
Moses gives symbolises unity under just legislation; Moses leads us to God and reveals the transcendent dignity of our shared humanity. The people of Israel are whole-hearted in their repeated assertion that they will do what he has spoken. We know that the biblical narrative reveals repeated failures on our part to do the words spoken by God; to put into practice the holiness demanded of us, or called forth from us when we encounter God.
Yet God remains faithful to us. As symbolised in the ancient ritual enacted by Moses, there is an everlasting covenant. It requires our obedience. As David Steindl-Rast writes in 'Music of Silence', obedience does not mean 'just doing what you are told, the sort of obedience a dog learns in obedience school. It means loving listening to the Word of God that comes to us moment by moment'. This sort of intensive listening demands a choice in every situation - will our response be life-giving or will we continue in lazy habits or give in to our whims?
We are led to God in worship; to the holiness of his love, light and glory. We are united in obedience to God's commands; we are committed to preserving the dignity of the other. We are called to be a holy people.
Pope Francis addressed Congress, the people of the United States and each one of us with this call. For we too are called to sustain the life of society and to generate solidarity; we too face moments of crisis and tension; we too seek to move forward with wisdom and dignity. In his speech, Pope Francis uses Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton as examples of people who help us see and interpret reality. These individual 'selves' are perhaps the antithesis of the selfie. It calls us to holiness in complexity.
They are people who, rather than focusing on themselves, have focused on others. Rather than personal posterity, they've sought the common good; they have been bold enough to seek the Kingdom of God. Markers of that Kingdom are threads that run through Pope Francis' address: seeking freedom and confronting fundamentalism; responding with hope, healing, peace and justice; a renewed spirit of fraternity and solidarity, generous cooperation for the good of all.
He speaks of responding to our neighbour - looking on their humanity with a love that it humane; a love that is both passionate and compassionate. He spoke against the death penalty and for dignity and rehabilitation. He spoke out against poverty and for harnessing enterprise, wealth and resources for a sustainable economy. He spoke about the environmental challenge and the use of technology; and the richness and beauty of family life; he calls us to prayer and to dialogue; to dream and to act.
Our lives are an outworking of that call. As we exercise that calling over the coming week we are called to witness to Jesus Christ. We do that as musicians, teachers, trustees, accountants, volunteers, civil servants, medics and add your own name to that list. We witness as who we are, in Christ. If we encounter others, drawing on our encounter with God, we become channels of his healing and reconciling love.
We hear of Jesus returning home, where he immediately encountered people of faith and need. Jesus sees both the burden they carry and the hope placed in him; he sees faith which holds another before God. There is obedience, transcendence and dignity. His response is to bring freedom. He acts as one who is ready to forgive sins and to heal the body. He restores. In an act of restoring our frailty, alienation and failure, God's Kingdom draws near.
Those who watch this unfold are filled with awe. They glorify God. But they attribute this power to transform to some sort of untapped human capacity. They miss the point. Jesus is not an exemplar of a general human possibility. Who he is cannot be abstracted from the witness of the narratives of the gospel writers: he is God with us, the Son of God, the Lord's Messiah, the Word made flesh. Jesus is able to save, restore and forgive us because he is fully like us; but also because he manifests the fullness of God's glory in his life, death and resurrection.
He renews our humanity fulfilling the covenant. We are called to be eyewitnesses to that new reality: not in captured moments, claiming human authority or clamouring to leave a trail of selfies. But as members of Christ's body on earth. We need continual refining by risking proximity to God's holiness: in worship, in scripture, in the honesty of companions along the way. How do we live prayerfully and purposefully? Dare we be changed - fixing our gaze on the love of God made manifest in Jesus Christ, and being empowered by the Holy Spirit?
© Julie Gittoes 2015
